PENNY LONDON:— SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER BRINGING UP A CHILD IN THE WAY HE SHOULD GO, A TALE OF BLOOD.— EXECUTION UPON CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE •—= aa—_ a, iflB » —- Vv.' iii. a « .. HI . j merit*, The truth, U; i< yid e •>• .>.••• stati Thst useful iji- M ui " tv/ ce a tig/ il, ' TllU » tlous you'll' inculcating I Ob ! roan of courage ! who can dniibf, The valour thou art here revealing? And who is there that will deny, Yi. nr noble patriotic feeling ? Police, STRAY THOUGHTS. Perils, misfortunes, want, pain, and injury, are the lot of every man that corneth into the world. Tbe peace of every man dependeth on justice, and his happiness on the enjoyment of his possessions. The poor man reiiiiieih at his own lot, because he seeth not the troubles and anxieties of riches, or the wearisonieness of leisure. It is said that old age is honour, and that grey hairs are revered. Virtue can add reverence to the bloom of youth, but without it, ate makes more wrinkles on the soul than on the forehead. The promises of hope are sweeter than roses in tbe bud, and far more flattering to the expectation ; but the threatening of fear are terrors to the heai t. The terors of death are no terrors to the good. Keep thy heart from guile, and thy soul shall have nothing to fear. W. C. DOWDELL. Mile End, July 12th, 1841. Ml J— .. . ' I- Tna DISGOVBRY.— A K^ oll^ Nan praising the personal charms Of a very plain woman before Font., w. s asked by him, " Why don't you lay cla'ji to such an accomplished beauty ?" " What right have I to her)" 1 the other. " Every right by the law of » U nation., w first ' tiacocrrer." UOW STREET. A CLEKGYMAN LIISHY— JIM ALONG JOSE V. - The Rev Mtrv—' was cl, arsed by police con, cable Whackie with being drunk, and singing . Jjm Along Josey, iu a characteristic style, which w„ s anytlvng but amusing to, the sufferers, m ronjo;, aence of" the rev. genileman's gaiety. H' was f » -. thermore charged, by one Mrs. Eupheraia Blubb, erton. with having wilfullv and inten- tionally dejno';„ l, ed a delicious toad- iu the-' hole, which she, the ]\ Irs. Euphemia Bliibbertot), was in the act ol coc- vfy„| jr lo her own domicile in Di'ury- couit, where nig chummy, hi r bett r half, and lour diminutive chummies, were most anxiously awaiting its arrival The third charge against the defendant was. that he had pulled the bottle nose of Mr. Squinks, who remon- strated with him upon ilie impropriety of his conduct, aud sought to persuade him to call a cab, and retire to bis own residence. Peeler Whackie stated, that about one o'clock P. M. that day, he was attracted to tbe spot in which the rev. defendant was going through his vocal and saltatory performance, by his rather unmusical vociferations", and, Vipon making his way to Wych- street, he found hiirn on the pavement, kicking his heels in the air in the most ludicrous manner, and singing that Byronic production, entitiled and called Jim Along Josci/, while a mob of about one hundred persons was collected around him. He hurried towards him to expostulate with him, and endeavour to persuade him to " move on," in which expostulation Mr. Squinlis took part, when the rev. gentleman made use of an expression anything but scriptural or holy, at the same time laying hoid of the prominent olfactory of Mr. Squinks, and giving it such a twist, that made the worthy proprietor of tbe said rubicund nose bawl out most lustily j find- ing, also, Mrs. Bluhberton lamenting most sorrowfully over the demolished toad- in- thehole, the defendant having " put his foot in it," he took him iuto custody. The rev. gentleman, still being in a state of all- overishness, was remanded for an hour or two to sober himself, when he was anain plactd at the bar, and, after a severe reprimand from the magistrate for his disg aceful conduct, was fined the lushington's penalty, twenty shillings for the assault upon the nose, aud or- dered to pay the value of the toad- in- the- hole ; and having " posted the jKiney," the rev. delineator of Jim Along Joscy was liberated. WORSHIP STREET. ON MY DAVEY.- Ellinor Macey. an old woman, and an old visitor to police offices, prisons, & c., was charged • with being drunk and incapable of taking care of her- self i n Ihe previous night. ELIINOB. — Drunk ! tosticated! On my davey I wam't; vy, I hadn't spent more than two shillings and thruppence on gin all th' arternoon, on my davey, I hadn't, a" d I should like to know whether that's enough to make even a hinnercent babby any the vorserer. MAGISTRATE— Of course, Mrs. Macey, you never was • drunk in your life ? ELLINOR.— Vy, to be sure, 1 have been a little merry sometimes, on my davey, I have; but it's a poor heart as never rejoices, on iny davey it is. MAGISTRATE.— You aud I, 1 think, have seen one another before. Ellinor ? ELLINOR ( with a low curtesy).— Jolly good luck to your old tin pot, often, on my davey, we have. MAGISTRATE— How mauy times have you been in prison for drunkenness ? EI. LINOR.— Oil my davey, 1 can't say, yer worship. MAGISTRATE.— Do you think a hundred times ? ELLINOR.— A hundred! Vy, if you had said a thou- sand times, yer vould ha' ben under the mark, yei worship; on my davey, yer vould. Bless yer, it's mj nateral home. MAGISTRATE.— If I discharge you this time, will yoi get drunk again ? ELUNOR.— Yes, on my davey, I vill; if I don't, I'm damned. Committed for a month. IN that year of the last century, which was fatally listinguished by the promulgation of Sir Robert Wa1- pole's scheme of excise. Wadhain D was the uaster of a pretty large manufactory in Sheffield ; il stood at the upper cud of a crofl, which formed part > f ihe well- known Castle Hill, and before it was a gentle fall, whereon the grass, notwithstanding the soot which fell upon it, retained a continual freshness. At Ihe foot of Ihis fall, and nearly at the point where ( he streams of the Steaf and Dun mingle together, Wad- ham D——- had erected a dwelling for himself, his [ laughter Gryeelle, and his son Guisnes, who composed the whole of his household. The manufactory of Wad- ham D was the object of suspicion to the whole town ; and, as it might naturally be supposed, ht himself, from some cause or other, being generally shunned and hated, that suspicion took a colour and character most fatal to the tranquillity of the whole family. It was remarked by the workmen, that the wares which they made had no names; they were, to be sure, like spades, hoes, and rakes, but they were simply called by numbers; and, as it was shrewdly observed, tbey could not be made for the culture of Christian earth, but to cast up in large quantities, any light soil of distant Pagan land". The master of the manufactory, however, pursued his course , neither he nor his children mingled in any way with Ihe ordinary sports or business of ihe town; and, it was remarked, that his only pleasure seemed to be, sitting close by the streams which bounded bis dwelling, breathing forth clouds of tobacco- smoke, and uttering, at in- tervals, strange foreign curses against the air and soil of England. Warfbam I) conveyed the produce of his worksh. p., in Ihe third week of every moon, to sorae sea- port on the west side of the island. His pack- horses usually relumed afier an absence of ten days, so that it was generally known his wares had no distant journey. On these occasions, they returned laden with small casks of sugar, black- berries, and other produce of distant lands. These casks of sugar were the be ginnings of much strife and sorrow lo Wadham D and his two children. It has already been noticed, that he was beset by a general hatred ; and, it may be added, that dislike appeared so naturally to arise in the minds of ihe young, who could not have entertained any sinister prejudice against him, lhat a child was never known to approach him of its own will, or a dog lo fawn upon liiin, though-- 1ie offered the animal ever so many messes of poitage. In person he was tall, but appeared to be weakly; his features were strictly regular, but every one declared thai his coun- tenance was hideous ; he was said to he forty- three years of age, yet his bare burned and furrowed brows, declared that he had numbered tho days of a Patri- arch. Gryselle, whose person was still more remark- able and contradictory, will he afterwards described. Oue summer's night, ( it was alter a quarrel of un- usual animosity had taken place between Wadham 1) and some of I*, is townspeople), an occurrence took place which let loose the flood- gates of popular dislike, and swept away the mast « r and the manu- factory together. Hoys and girls, and other half- educated persons, little and great, generally look upon injuries done to bad people, or to theii enemies, in particular, with a balf- satitfied conscience; so it wa' with the children and ( heir parents, who lived in little dwellings around Wadham D ' s shops. The urchins drove nails into his casks of sugar, and, if by success- ful aid of piracy, ( hey could cairy home a small lumj; or two, the ill- judging mothers seldom l'eraemberec that a commandment had been broken, or that they the maternal guardians of their offspring, had smiled or the commencement of a course of crime, whose goal was disgrace, ruin, or, perhaps, death. On the nighi in question, a crowd of instructed pilferers had made B gap in the sides ofa cask larger than any which had been seen before; they were engaged in a noisy scramble. when, suddenly, a shrill scream issued at once from their little clear throats, and the contents of every apron fell to the ground as they drew back affrighted. So unusual on occurrence, presently brought all the dames from their evening toils; and, each anxious mother, half out of breath, demanded of her little one what was the matter;—" See, 1' they exclaimed, each pointing with their tiny fingers; " see, mother, the hand of ." The women drew cautiously near, and directing their eyes to something which lay on the. ground, in the midst of the children, gave, in their turn, a loud cry of horror, and ran off, followed by the entire party. As might be supposed, the men were quickly summoned, and presently the smithies wete deserted and crnwds of men with hammers and other tools, clenched without remembrance in their brawny hands, surrounded the place. " What scene is this P" they demanded, when a hoy, more daring than the rest, pressed his way between their legs, and pointed to the hand of a man, half- hidden in yellow sugar, as it lay on theground. They took it up, and one of them held it out with averted face between his finger and thumb : " It is the hand of a fellow- creature,"' said Allen Ditchfield; ( t I know it well; see, hire, com- rades, are the cuttings of the band which has been hound round the wrist; this thumb is stack, and look ye, these two fingers have been mashed up with some tool or other;'' as he said this, the faces of his bnmier- workmen gathered a frown darker than the sweat of labour which hung upon them, and many an arm unconsciously raised to its shoulder the hammer or the axe, which, in the sudden alarm, had been carried from [ be forge. " Bless you, this is nought," continued Allen, " I have seen twenty such hands when I was in the Ingies, lyieg on a bit of grass not bigger than a quoit- race, when ( hey pull up ( he poor blacks with ilieir triangles; if the son should burn hot and long upon them, the bones crack, and they part at the shoulders and wrists, like hands strained and scorched, and down they come, dead and quiet." A thrill of horror ran through the assembled workmen; they . spoke not, hut they looked . olo each oihers faces, and : on a sudden, as if actuated by a common impulse, they whirled their hammers in the air, and giving one loud I hurrah, sat off in a body to the manufactory of. Wad- . Iiain D . Presently, the narrow sbeaf was burdened i with broken casks, and the deeper and broader Dun I carried down with its ample current, all the inerchan- i dize which the last strain of pack- horses had brought . him. It may he well to explain how it happened:— that > a body of men, themselves suffering many of the hard- , ships which tbe poor natives of Guinea undergo in the islands of the western ocean, so suddenly felt them- . selves called up, mildly, yet honestly, to shew tlieic indignation against Wadhatu D ; they concluded, of course, that if he were not the accursed owner of i slaves, it was from them and their forbidden toil that • he drew his wealth; and for aught they knew, some r of the nameless instruments which he made, might - have severed the hand, which they had found, from the . body of a wretch already tortured. j Wadhain I) disappointed the fears of his ene- mies in ihe manner by which he resented the outrage 5 on his property. He assumed the air of a man, who had • suffered the martyrdom ofa fair luxe, and who scorned s to reply to the false or captious charges of a slanderous - or ignorant world. It is not known lhat he ma- de any i judicial complaint whatever. Upon the coming of the 1 next moon, however, many days before the fulness ol , her light, invited the owners or the carrying horses and i mules to ascend the hills in the cool and quiet time ot 1 night; troops of UBknown conductors and their beasts I entered the town. On the following morning, all the i sirange- shaped instruments of agriculture and curi- I ously- wrought irons, beneath which the floors of the , workhouses groaned, were gone; the tools used in their manufacture were gone also or destroyed; the workmen came at their accustomed hour and found the doors already open to receive them ; but all the instru- ments wherewith they used to fashion things, ( of which they knew not the names), had disappeared, or layj in useless fragments on Ihe ground. The father, the daughter, and the son, departed at the same time, and having few acquaintances whom they cared to tell of their migration, and still fewer friends who would complain they had not been bade farewell, they speedily arrived at the new habitation which they had provided for themselves. In these days, the skirts of the town were composed of unfruit- ful commons, and beyond them, on the side which was chosen for their abiding- place, rugged and rocky grounds, interspersed with dry aHd useless heaths, made a wild and solitary region, which, even at the present time, astonishes the unaccustomed traveller, ere he has left behind him the smoke of the town's fires. Within a few gunshots, is a low tenement, yet bearing on its dwarf walls au imitation of the lurreted roofs which were raised by the English gentry during the unhappy time of the great civil wars. The windows, which, on either side, illumine the two principal apart- ments, are so contrived that the morning sun may enter and gild tbe feet of their indwellers. On one side are seen a few buildings, whereon to store the produce of the cold fields; and on the other, some thin and stunted sycamores, which promise, but give not shade. Before the house is a small reservoir, lined with the stone which lies cold and bare all over the surrounding grounds, and which is kept continually full by exuda- tions from the moors, which lie higher and beyond it. Behind all, was a garden, now claimed and swallowed by the kindred waste, which was entered only by a small back portal, which opened from the house itself. It is necessary to describe thus particularly, the dwelling chosen by Wadham D , as It will appear. It is also proper that Gryselle, the heroine of the story, should be described as tiuly as pen can describe that which owns no likeness in nature— no similitude amongst the multitudinous changes and visions of the wildest and most daring imaginations. Gryselle had passed the twenty- third year of her life, when her father abandoned his means of acquiring further wealth, and sought covert amongst almost in- accessible, and certainly unsought- for wilds, witbin five miles of the town^ of Sheffield. Her person was tall, and in the estimation of the million, most majestic. Her features were inexpressibly regular, and shamed the sculptor, whose anxious care and tempered chisels, never produced the imitation of a human face so match- less in form, so perfect in disposition. Her cy » s were of the colour, whereof invented words are silent. Some happy artists have fallen on a poor resemblance of them, by giving to their pictured beauties, large, deep, black orbs, upon which a bright light appears suddenly opened^ and suddenly, fiercely, and malignantly re- turned. Her bosom was that becoming a very young maiden, but'her step was fearless and matronly. An aged man, who had looked upon her most intensely far some minutes, was heard to exclaim, " Alas! fair maiden, thou art a meteor, which may hum, but cannot cherish ; all men will admire— none love thee ; wonder- ful is thy outward working— within empty ; empty- heartless." Such was Gryselle ; her brother, Guisnes, was her elder by a year; one of those men of even tempers and chastened aspirations, who, if they be not led through the travail of life, appear absolutely to stand still. Such, with one or two dull natives of the county, kept as serving men,— were the sole inhabitants of the Dore Moors. The seasons continued to chase ! cach other, and the bosom of the earth was soft and fruitful; hard and sterile, as the rosy feel of spring, or the harsh strides of winter passed over it; yet Gryselle witnessed the coming and departure of the sun without emotion. She stood erect on the dark path, and the created world about her; herself and the endless chains of beings by which she was surrounded, raised within her, nor wonder— nor prayer— nor praise. Two- years passed, and the father, the daughter, and the son, lived on, as trees of the unknown Indian forest, advancing towards the last winter, which would leave them sap- less and leafless. About this time, tha Pretender, as the Royal Prince Charles Edward was called by some people, caused much uneasiness to Georjje the Second and his court at London. They had been advised, not only of his presence in Scotland, but that many war- like lords and wild clans, half- naked men, inhabiting the borders of the two countries, were preparing to fall on the lowlands with shouts of war. Soon after- wards, the centre and northern parts of the kingdom swarmed with the king's troops, and General Wade, the favourite English officer of the time, pressed for- ward with many regiments of foreign mercenaries, with the intention of crushing at ence, at whatever cost of blood, the infant rebellion. Derby and the neighbour- ing country, lying nearly in the midst of the kingdom, were filled with troops, and it was in these districts, that recruits, for sudden and limited service, were eagerly sought. In this department of the service, then immeasurably more esteemed than it is now, one Captain Monckton had the supreme direction. The feathered cap and the bright sword became this man, and as he moved about, gaily dressed ia the trappings of his rank, the young men and women followed him with gazing admiration, which seemed as it were, drawn from thein by a being possessed of some un- known strange power of fascination. Monckton, by- design, or chance, found himself, early one morning, with a few of his followers, before the long windows of Gryselle's apartment, it is unamusing to trace the course of acquaintance— affection— passion— between two beings, from whom great events, pregnant with good er evil, pain or joy, are destined, certainly to proceed. Monckton and Gryselle met; he was struck: with the singularity of her beauty ; he gazed, and the colour forsook his cheeks; again he looked, and awk- wardly complaining that the chilling winds of the jg moors overpowered him, suddenly retired. From that^ H moment, Gryselle was a changed being ; a fire aroM^ K within her, which all the tears of world's sinners, ^ K § p the dews of Heaven could not extinguish. Hithtf^ fcfp: she had been as a stranger on the peopled eartl^^^^^ wandered in the crowd of life, as one armed^ B. iS^ » | the pains, and despising the pleasures and qp^ B& dggjgp of mankind. But, now she was changed; o^ J passion, sometimes falsely called by the hallowe^ H^ ffiio of love, quickened her pulse and maddened ber ^ fl K; and her hitherto placid face was moved with raping changing expression. Meanwhile, the beauty of tbe^^ damsel haunted Monckton by day and by night, and he bowed down to it in fear and adoration, as his imagi- nation called Hp that first gale from which he had so suddenly, and as he now thought, unconsciously retired. He remembered that he was a soldier, and that the gallant soldier's course, to see, to desire, and possess, had been his in many a bloodless tent and field , yet a strange sensation— it was not respect— he would not acknowledge was fear, came upon him, whenever he thought of tbe maiden of the Moors, and he was careless to repeat his visit for some days, with- out, however, any mental argument with himself, to venture once more to the cottage of Wadham D . Monckton, a second time, directed his eyes towards the apartment occupied by Gryselle; she was there, and had sat within it every minute, and hour, and day, which had elapsed since Monckton first entered it, wasting and sickening with desire for his return. As soon as she beheld him, she sprang out of the large windows to the lawn and welcomed him; her hands seized his, she turned her eyes hotly for a moment upon his face, but in the next, a sense of the pride of her sex returned, and retiring a pace or two, she saluted her guest with the noble and stately courtesy, commsn to the dames of those days. The manner of his reception was not without gratification to the gayand experienced Captain Monckton , his visits were re- peated, though at intervals, and Gryselle was happy, if delirious and fevered hope permit the desiring heart to taste of joy , the hinds about the cottage were also blessed in the new being of Gryselle, she had hitherto cared to speak to them only when some ser- vice required a word or two; but now, in the season of love,, she bestowed on them kind salutations, as they entered upon, or departed from, their daily toil. Once as she was pacing the little lawn, from whence she could distinguish the approach of Monckton at the greatest distance, she observed one of her labouring women, striving, amid her toil, to restrain the wild gambols of her child at her side; Gryselle drew near, and took up the infant, smiled upon it, kissed it, and pressing into its little palm a small piece of gold, commended it to the care of its mother. On this occasion, only, it is recorded, that the beautiful, the dark- eyed Gryselle betrayed an out- pouring of the " milk of human kind- ness." — The few months of a summer passed away, during which, the news imperfectly reached the Moors, THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. that Charles Edward had entered Derby, and had quietly departed, without offering insult or injury to its inhabitants; with the confirmation of this intelli- gence, came the notice that the king's troops would presently fall back to the south. Monckton, himself, • was the first to acquaint Gryselle that the government • Was anxious to relieve the loyal inhabitants of Derby from the pressure of the military billets to which they had been subject, and should speedily disband, or re- move the anif. The maiden sickened at the news; Ihe smile which had sometimes given motion and life to her delicately- formed mouth, was not seen again; lwr eyes returned » o their original expression, and her lover beheld, once more, that remarkable aspect still and cold as the stone look of the statue from which he had retired with shuddering and fearful admiration. She knew that Monckton would depart with the troops, and she knew that his departure without the hope, nay, the certain promise of return, was to her death, in its most abhorred form — death — lingering, yet certain, As the day approached on which the camp was to be liroken up, the deportment of Gryselle became more awful, and even frightened Ihe stolid retainers of the' farm: Wadham D- himself— albeit, unused to ex- tend his enquiries, or bestow his sympathies on any human ailment but those of mer « physical suffering, could not help questioning his daughter, " why she < lid not use the nights for her repose ; and why she had neither eyes nor ears for anything which was presented or said to her J" The day of departure at length arrived ; Monckton appeared early to pro- nounce farewell ; and as none of the scanty household cared to cross Gryselle, they entered the house alone, and aln- ost unnoticed j contrary, however, to the - whisper « d expectations of the servants, they remaine-' together nearly the whole of the day. B--,', t'' evening, Wadham D , hi, son Cuis « es and he whole househod, with sile-" , ' ij '.- S .. beheld Monckton V"'? ^ ™ gratification, Tviih Hrp Gryselle part from each other wnn cmDr, ces () f- quiet and gra,| fle( r affection. The JipS of the maiden again deepened with the colour of life ; her eyes once more were turned from the earth to living objects, but as it seemed, that she might still he as a mystery and a wonder to all who beheld her ; Iter tongue seemed to desert its office ; her looks be- tokened ease enjoyed, and coming pleasure antici pated ; yet but for household necessities, she spoke not a word to man or woman. The cold autumn which blesses moorland wastes, had some time departed, when Gryselle, by an express post sent from the town, re- ceived letters from Captain Monckton ; their contents, as, it appeared in her deportment, simply conveyed assurances of expectations already cherished and neither umisual joy, nor singular depression followed their perusal ; the night the post came and departed, brought one of those early falls of snow which are common in the wild uncultivated heaths of ihe north. The whole of the following day the white storm continued to fall gently on the ground; and, as is common, perhaps necessary on such occasions, the husbandmen and women regained within sitting by the lire is dull anil drowsy converse, and the doors and windows of the cottage were sealed. The second night the storm came cm, and Woodham I) and his family rose up and departed to their several chambers, as was their custom, without exchanging with each other greeting or blessing-. Early the next morning, the silence of the Moors were broken with horrid cries of " murder! murder! murder t" resounded, and the level waste, and supernatural echoes repeated the fear ful sound a thousand times, wide through the thousand acres of the surrounding heath. The nearest acknow- ledged road from the scene of these dreadful exclama- lions, was tlie beautiful path of Ihe Abbey Dale, about two miles distant towards the east; here, as il hap- pened,— where Ihe snow had fallen rn lews quantities, a straggling party of discharged soldiers were pursuing a toilsome march towards Sheffield ; the alarm of blood raised in the stillness of the early morning reached their ears, and ihe youngest and most vigorous amongst litem, turned aside lo follow ( he sound ; wilh danger- ous labour ihey pursued their course, and led upon the nearest track by the shouts, which, at intervals, were still repealed ; they rushed through the open and un- guarded doors, until they arrived at the title portal, which, at the back of llie dwelling, opened into the garden. Here wero assembled ( lie affrighted beings whose throats had trumpeted through the waste the horrid cry ot murder. In the midst of Ihem lay the coise of Wadham I) , his head reposing on the liloody knees of Gnisnes, who sat upon the ground with naked feet and half- clad body, pressing arid sooth- ing in idiotic grief, the pallid forehead of ihe dead. Before him stood his sister Gryselle, dressed and fur- nished as for a present jonrney : her eyes strained tears as from bvertlowing wells, but her bosom was motionless, and her closed lips parled not to burden llie air with one sigh. The men who so strangely had been attracted to this scene of blood, knew no- thing of the thoughts of horror which filled the minds ofthe serving men who stood around, and like fellows accustomed to witness or investigate the most horrid crimes, they busily. set about examining; the murdered man, and the extraordinary circumstances under which liis scarcely cold body had been discovered. They found that he had been killed by a single blow, which had fallen on ihe back part of his head, and had eft a large and ghastly aperture, through which the earn of life had been rapidly- exhausted. They ob- ed that the stroke of murder had not fatten upon the circle of blood in which he was found, but had received it in full and mortal force in part of the garden; droppings of gore, and naked feet led ihem to the place of violence ; single space of the precise spot on which d live body had first fallen, they found the i of a man ; that lllese marks had been made by micide, whoevet he was, the sagacity of the whole puny determined at once. Presently the feet of those present wera. scriilini/. eil- by the strangers, hut the shape of none of them corresponded with the marks impressed on Ihe snow, and as for Guisnes, who, still half- dressed, sat on ihe cold snow, and with vacant sadness, supported the bead of his lifeless father; he- was not an object of suspicion fo any one. From Ihe garden, the accidental ministers of justice spread them- selves through - the house, unimpeded by the affrighted servants. In a little while, one <> f the party lustily called out to hisi comrades,' and determined soldiers pressed into a chamber, from which it appeared a man had suddenly risen. " Behold I" said he, " the instru- ment of death, and, I doubt not pivrt of the gearing of the murderer." In the corner of the room which was nearest the door, lay a large country- shaped axe or bill- hook, and a pair of shoes fitting for s^ grown- iip man j " these," continued the discoverer, " will be im- pounded iii the king's name, and may Heaven send the innocent a speedy deliverance." They were quickly conveyed from the misty chamber into the belter light which the garden afforded, and the soldiers presently delivered, as their unanimous verdict, that the axe which was still bloody, and retained on its uneven edges, some of the dead man's grey hairs, was the in- strument of his death, and that the owner of the shoes, which exactly corresponded with the footmarks Ihey had before observed, anil which, moreover, had been dumped and stained with snow, on which, evidently, they had recently pressed, belonged to the perpetrator of ihe murderer. The name' of Guisnes D—— was now whiskered- from one to another, and ere the affrighted man himself tkeard it pronounced, the stran- gers had surrounded him,- and in the ninne of justice, declared that he was their prisoner. The uuhappy man, without uttering a word, turned his eyes implor- ingly on his sister Gryselle, who had remained standing unmoved on ihe scene of death, as if she had been an inage set up by some cunning hand, with * ready and - unfaltering voice, she replied to her brother's loo .. . " It is true, that litis bill thou hast been used to handle, and true it'is, also, that thuse are thy shoes, which were found in the chamber where thou sleepest, Hit: damp willi the fresh snow of the morning; yet, doubtless, thou art innocent of the sin of ihy father's death." The effect of this speech was to draw nearer the- people to Ihe distracted Guisnes, and just at the moment when lie was about t< » rally his terror- struck senses and assert his innocence of the deed, they closed in upon him, bound him fast with the military belts which they wore, and placing him on horseback in the midst, led the way again to the interior of the County. Gryselle stood before the now untenanted house, and beheld her brother writhe Ills body as he sat constrained in the saddle of the horse, which was driven onward in spite of his supplications; she stood still and beheld him striving in agony to attract her notice, and 6he moved not from the spot, until the distance between them had softened his slrong and piercing shrieks, and rendered them unextinguishable from the cries and chirpings of the wild birds, which floated as little specks over the limits of the horizon. Gryselle, then, with a rapid step, re- entered her dwelling, sum- moned to her ihe youngest of her male servants, and delivering to his hand a sealed packet, directed for Captain Monckton, dispatched him on his journey, after many injunctions touching his speed and faith- fulness. This business done, she quitted the habitation of her slaughtered parent by the front door, biiefly said to her domestics who stood around with vacant looks of horror, that she supposed they would shortly receive directions for his proper burial, and Upon her palfrey, followed the course her brother had been taken by his captors. In the troubled days of tins most barbarous history, judicial commissions sat in various parts of the country, emptying, by the potent aid of the gibbet) or the felon Siave- ship, the gaol which had become too full to wait the usual delivery by the circuit judges. One of these commissions consisting of three lawyers, supposed to be most learned, and known to be ', nost favoured and trusted by the court, WHS sitting in the ancient judg- ment- h^ ll 0f I) ert, y. They took cognizance of all Criminal charges, whether appertaing to ordinary men, or proceeding From Ihe privileged people of military Or clerical rank. Before such a tribunal, Guisnes D was arraigned for the minder of his father. In the meantime, Gryselle also, but in freedom, with ap- parent horror, and amid general commisseration, had entered Ihe county town. In ihis place had been erected by one Edward Large, a man, as lemarkable for his tenderness as his wisdom, noble alms- houses, as an asylum for the widows of clergymen. In this society of poor gentlewomen, Gryselle was received with the respect commanded by her now supposed fortune, and with the touching pity and silent com- misseration, which the blow that had already fallen on her family, and the other dreadful one which awaited it, irresistibly drew from hearts already touched by the bereavement of death. The silent stupor which marked her demeanour from the moment she had entered their half- sanctified domicile, troubled and annoyed them. Themselves the creatures of grief and tenderness, they invented excuse for tlie conduct of theii guest; her eyes knew no tears ; the words, " father,— brother," had never been uttered in their morning and evening services, which they carefully framed lo convey balsam to a wounded spirit, so fearfully and fatally smitten as they believed her to be, she never joined ; and as the long and careful watchers of her midnight couch tookfcd upon her calm face, and listened to the quick but regular heating of her pulse, they w ondered and trembled as they did so, that the maiden offered up to Heaven no prayer for peace or pardon. The young parricide, as he was called, was now put upon his deliverance. The trial did not greatly com- mand the attention of people ; crimes of great atrocity were, at that time, more common in England than at present, and there was nothing in the retired aud al- most unknown family of Wadham D , to render him or his of much public account. Guisnes stood at the bar of guilt, and Ihe varisus witnesses described the circumstances under which he had been arrested, entered the box, and departed without observance or question. His occupation throughout this scene was lo gaze around the hall of justice, and to turn again and again a « intense look towards its public gates ; at seemed to t m to be all npon, and in the house of the murdered Wadham D . In the morning, a band of Cottagers commenced a slow walk lo the moors ; theyj- emarked, however, with surprise, when they first set foot upon Ihe heath, that the lightning had not scathed it, and they ventured lo express a hope that its fearful fires had expired in the upper air; presently they approached the place which they hitherto had not ventured to name; the doors and windows ihey found shattered and lying in fragments on the ground ; wilhin they were assailed with the smell of sulphur and of fire, which appeared to have destroyed the stuffs and other soft furniture of the chief apartment. They passed through the little portal which led to the garden, and their course was directed by what appeared to be heaps of thin white muslin thrown carelessly on the ground; they raised them, and beneath, and partly enveloped in them was Gryselle D , long since dead, and then blackened and stained with blood which lay dark and dry on her bosom, and upon her arms; the country people tied from the scene of justice and retribution as they declared it lo be. In due time, the authorities of the district proceeded to the place, artd the neighbourhood officially informed them that Mistress Gryselle D , ihe possessor of the fortunes of her father and her brolher, had been accidentally killed by a stroke of lightning. The surgeon who presided at ihe investigation, declared Ihat she had been struck on the left side, just on the region of the heart, but that the stroke had been so delicately given, that though it touched and affected the ventricles of the seat of life, yet that she must have lived many hours after she fell ; he further said that the stroke had reached her at Ihe bottom of the garden, and that she must have crawled ill agony to the very spot, where, years ago, her father had been murdered. The tale of facts requires little commentary; Gryselle had become violently enamoured of Captain Monckton ; in the confidence of love, or in the daring of lawless passion she had acquainted him, Willi her desire lo be. wedded to him. The soldier, little prompted by his heart, perhaps, to give a warmer devotion, pleaded ihe hazard of his profession, and the poor and uncertain gains which an unstable govern- ment, afforded; further, he obliquely hinted, that when her fortune or his own equalled the costs which he at- tributed to matrimony, he would fulfil the dearest object of his wishes, from the moment of this de claration, the heroine took her course. Stealing one morning into the unguarded room where her brother slept, she put on his shoes, and arming herself with an instrument which he had been accustomed to use, silently followed her father as he took his customary walk, and with a single blow cleft his skull in twain ; she returned unheard- and unseen, replaced the axe and shoes, and dressed as for a journey ; awaited the alarm which would be made. The joy which she thought awaited her as the wife of Monckton, gave her demon's strength during the trial: enabled now to offer herielf the sole possessor of the wealth of the family; she did not dream that her expectations would break beneath her. The news of the dreadful fate of father and son, did however, reach the ears of Monckton, and instinctively he tied from arms which, for aught he knew, were stained with blood. The desertion of her servants, and Ihe tales of her strange conduct, arose from her madness and horror of mind ; when abandoned by the world, she had leisure to sum up the enormities of her crimes, and the little share of pleasure they had purchased. ERNNESTINE DE LACY! TO CORRESPONDENTS. length the forms of justice were completed, and the chief commissioner called the unhappy Goisnes to sensibility , by demanding of him, in a sonorous voice, what he had lo offer; " Ihat man should not shed his blood, even as tie had shed the blood of man." The moment of knowledge and self- possession which had visited Guisnes, was brief indeed: at the repetition of the word " blood," he fell forwards, faintly exclaim- ing, Gryselle t Gryselle !" The commissioners en- quired who it was be called upon; upon this invita- tion, a young pleader arose anil said that he had called upon his sister Gryselle, whom he would lain have in court, though it was geneially known that her testi- mony, if delivered truly, would make much against him. The judges paused a moment, and the sergeants in attendance were desired to produce the maid, if she yet lingered in their jurisdiction. The abode of Gryselle, and her misfortunes, as they were lermed, had, for some time, become the talk of the towns- people, and the commissioners demand was soon done. The daughter of Wadham O was conducted by the official attendants into the body of the court; Guisnes rose from the ground, and made a convulsive effort to reach her. The commissioners who had al- ready spoken, again addressed him, and desired he might put lo the witness such questions as he opined Would serve bis cause. The accused again rallied, and raising himself to his full and natural height, and grasping fiercely the bar of wood which separated him from - the spectators, he turned towards Gryselle:— " My dear sister," said he, " they charge me with taking Ihe life of our dear father— say, dost thon not know me innocent ?— dosl thou not know ine guiltless?'' The mind and body of Guisnes seemed to sink under this last effort, and of all people present, he atone, perhaps, was unconscious of the replication which followed his question. Gryselle stood with ber looks directed to that pttrl of the court- bouse which was directed by Ihe accident of her first position, and as her brolher spoke, her eyes, which, when she entered, seemed by mere muscular exertion kept at full gaze, closed suddenly; her lips moved once or twice as she was about to speak, wKsn suddenly a teirific shriek tilled the crowded area, and she fell into the arms of one who had watched her extremity apparently with- out life. Guisnes was forthwith convicted of the mur- der; the virtue of the sister who lefused to utter Ihe thing which was not, even ( o save a brother's life, was Ihe theme of pious admiration, aud on the following morning the body of Guisues swung in the air, and groans and execrations were the last human sounds which reached his ears. Gryselle speedily left the kind widows, who had desired to administer to her woes, returned to the farm cm the moors, discharged her servanis, engaged others, and, as the county term is, more likely ones in their places ; displaced the old substantial furniture whicli her father had originally brought to the place, and in its stead, purchased soods of richer materials and. more ad. mired shape. All now at the farm was bustle, if not gaiety ; life, if not plea- sure. The new servants with a laudable activity which they had acquired in the fine establishments from which they had lately been dischaiged, spread over the country the important secret that their lady, Gry- selle, was shoilly to be married lo a noble captain of great fortune and family ; months continued to pass and no lover, no captain of Ihe maiden's fierce desire was seen lo approach the little green before the dwell- ing ; years passed and no Monckton was seen pacing wilh ardent steps, ihe heaths of the Dure. Gryselle, in the world's calendar yet young, grew old and haggard ; her servants one by one, discharged them- selves ; the gay and the modish fashions of the hnngings and furniture were spoiled by neglect, aud al last the farm and its mistress became the feared things of the peasantry. For three years succeeding this period, the house sheltered but one living creature ; none but ihe boldest of the country borderers could be tempted to fulfil her weekly orders for strong wines and meats fetched from the adjoining towu; and it sometimes happened, that when, oil succeeding nights, loud un- earthly screams bad disturbed neighbouring collages, Gryselle was abaudoned by the whole district; oue night, in this region, wherein the Elements of ( he air so commonly contend, ihere happened a storm, which was chiefly distinguishable by frequent fifties of dark blue light, that seemed to opeu the very bosom of the skies; some children who lledfrom Ihe open wild- to gain the shelter of the vallies, " declared that the storm It appears that some consummate ass, » r impudent knave, adopting the signature of T. B. COLLINS, ASHTED, has sent la our paper a piece written by MR, J. H. R. BAYLEY, entitled " Song ofthe Spirit of Beauty;" we are requested, therefore, by the latter gentleman, to in form MB. T. B. COLLINS, " that should he ever wish to appear again In print, he has an old magazine or two by him, which he will lend , him aeit'. pleasure, wherein he will find some excellent old anonymous poetry, to which he may sign his name, without the slightest probability of being faund out. One af the precious volumes is, at least, a hundred years old, consequently the authors are, all dead j" If those would- be authors had only suffi- cient sense it see what superlative boobies they make of themselves, we. are certain they would save their time and paper, which they prabably can ill afford to squan- der. fVe are obliged to JAMES TURNER. J. MORAS!, ( Dublin.) — We have before slahd that we cannot promise insertitn to any more charades, fyc., for a month at least. This answer will apply to numerous other carrespundents, to whom we feel obliged. C. B.— We have, no recollection. B. Y. Z.— We have answered the question repeatedly. We are much obliged to " A Blue Jacket." The communication of J. W. RIOOUT is accepted. AcceptedS. SPEED. P. MULYY, " England, the Home of the. Brave and the Free," and ANNE K. Declined : — Charades by B. Ft ELD, and " On Seeing Two Deserters," and M. M. J: H. We are extrimelo happy to hear fram Mr. Di lan again, and are obliged to him for hi- friendly hints and sug- gestions. As respects the small type, Mr. D. has formed a correct idea of our motives for using it. MR. MACLAURIN'S tale shall appear in our next if pos- sible. « • The Marginal Note " shall appear ncsxt week. Several other correspondents will be answered in our next number. *** AJ1 communications to be addressed ( post paid) to the Editor of THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, 231, High street, Shoreditch. OR, THE ROBBER'S FOUNDLING. BY TH* AUTltOR OF " * HE DEATH GRASP," BTC. ( Continued from our last.) But, if Lord Raymond's anguish and chagrin at the result of the attempt to capture the robber- chief and his daring gang, and itie perilous situation of his sister were great, his anguish was exceeded, if anything, by that of Lady Marguerite, whose feelings,- on beholding her bro- ther, we have already described $ when she was home from the battlements by the orders of Osmond, and was con- veyed to her own apartment, unable longer to support the terrors of her mind, she became insensible. Having seen Lord Raymond and his followers vanish in the distant mazes of the deep- entangled wood, and It- It the battlements and every Other part of defence pro- perly guarded, Osmond and the remainder of the gang retired to the cavern in wliich they usually congregated, where, havi-. ig collected the robbers around him, he thus addressed them:— " My bold comrades,— victory hath again attended yow irresistible, your unconquerable bravery; the inso- lent foe; who would oust us from our stronghold, and annihilate us altogether, hate, by ye, been defeated, and but for my clemency, not one would have survived to tell their shame to the world '.— For this your captain thanks ye, certain as he is, that rather than be con quered, or see him fall into the hands » f his enemies, ye would all of ye lay down your lives!" Loud shouts, which made the vaulted cavern re- echo again, and cries of " Long life to Osmond, the Avenger I — Death to those who would betray him !" followed this address, and when the clamour " bad, in some degree ceased, Osmond continued in the following strain: — I again thank ye, my brave fellows, for this enthu siastic demonstration, and will take care to reward it as it deserves! But it behoves us to u « e redoubled precau- tion, and now that the enemy lias suffered this defeat for, doubtless, they will muster in ten- fold strength to attack us, and we must also too, strengthen our forces, so that we may be able to meet and successfully resist anv future attack that may be made upon us!— Our enemies little suspect the extent of our resources in the moment of danger!— And we will, therefore, be prepared to shew them that we do not boast without having full rea- son so to do !— It is my intention to summon to our aid, our faithful partisans, the Bandit Monks of St. Ethel- bert, who, beneath the guise of sanctity, commit their depredations without suspicion; also the stalwart Arch ers of the bonny greenwood of iMercey, whose urowess and deeds of daring, have bid defiance to the law, and all ihe force sent again them ! With the aid of these, what can all the power of our enemies effect ?" Nothing I" shouted a hundred voices;—" success to the Bandit Monks of St. Ethelbert, and to the Archers of the bonny greenwood of Mercey !" " Pardon me, brave captain," remarked his lieutenant, " but methinks whilst thou retaiust so fair an hostage as the Lady Marguerite St. Aswolph, there is but little cause to apprehend anv danger!" " From Lord Raymond St. Aswolph, h;' r brother, I own there is not," answered Osmond, " but we have otlier and more powerful enemies, whom it is necessary we should guard against! But enough of this; I have told ye mv plans, and i caution ye all to be wary and watch- ful ! ' To- morrow, I intend to set apart for rejeicing at our victory, when, at the festive board, I will introduce to ye, my intended bride, the beauteous Lady Marguerite St. Aswolph !" Loud acclamations followed this announcement, and then the robbers taking their places at the board, com- menced their rude revelry with the following song of triumph, usually sung by them on occasions like the present:— Drink ! drink !—' tis ours to laugh At gloomy care, at pale- faced woe ; Drink ! drink '.— cheerily quaff, We robbers only pleasure know!— Round, round again with glee, Let's be gay, let's be gay, Shout! shout'. for victory, Victory is ours huzza ! Tiratja! tirat la 1 Victory is ours— huzza! and the fate with which she was threatened, but which be sincerely trusted, ihat something would occur to prevent it., ' We need not say bow heartily Blanche responded to the sentiments of her husband, and how gladly would she have encouraged him to assist the unfortunate Lady Marguerite in escaping from St. Alwyn Castle, could it have been done without the terrible consequences that; would accrue to them both, and had not the oath they h'. icl taken hound them in fidelity to Osmond and his gang; fearful, therefore, that Ulric might, inadvertantly betray his real sentiments to the robbers, and excite their suspicions, she cautioned him seriously, which he, bow- ever, informed her was quite unnecessary, as he should take good care never to be off his guard. They then sepa- rated, anil Blanche hastened to the apartments of Lady Marguerite, to whom she imparted what had taken! place between her and her husband. Lady Marguerite heard her with a feeling of the deepest melancholy anil despair, but, at the same time, liegged that Blanche would express her gratitude to her husband for his sym- pathy, and assure him of her regret that fate had plactd him in so degrading and painful a situation, and of her sincere wish that something would, ere long, take place to release him from it, and restore him to that station ill society, from which oppression and cruelty had driven hiui. It was some hours after the battle, aud the circum- stances that had taken place, ere Lady Marguerite coutiT* s in the slightest degree, compoie ber feelings, or listen with patience to the gentle soothings of the attentive and affectionate Blanche. " Alas!" she ejaculated, " where is all that forbear- ance and deference to our sex, which thou didst lately give Osmond credit for possessing?— Did he not threaten me with death, had not my poor brother yielded to his commands ?" " True," returned Blanche, " but still I do not believe he would put such a threat into execution, and that it was merely uttered to alarm Lord Raymond. I really think that Ue is forcibly struck with thy charms, Lady Marguerite, and so far from consigning thee to death, would " " Compel me to become his bride, thou wouldst say," added Marguerite ; " alas! death would, indeed, be pre preferable to that." Blanche used all the arguments she could think of to soothe the unfortunate lady, but they failed in having the desired effect. She then took her lute, and played one of the most impressive airs she knew, but the sounds fell listlessly upon Marguerite's ear, and she at last THE PENNY PEOPLE'S AND POLICE GAZETTE. Our numerous ' subscribers will perceive that, with last week's ( Taper, we presented to them, gratuitously, Nos. 3 and 4, completing the first part of the new, ori- ginal, and immensely- successful domestic romance of SUSAN HOPLYS OR, THE TRIALS AND VICISSITUDES OF A SERVANT GIRL, which, we need not add, we have only been enabled to do at an enormous outlay. However, as the encouragement we have received, and the rapid tale at which our unprecedented circulation increases every week, fully shows that the public duly appreciate our exertions, we shall never suffer expense or trouble lo be any barrier in tile way of amply tes- tifying our gratitude to that public It is our delight and constant endeavour to please. We are certain it will afford our readers every gra- tification to learn that this journal is not only now in the most extensive circulation ever known lo be pos- sessed by any other publication which has issued from the press for the last . ifly years, but that its sale is rising thouiands evety week, and slill maintains ils proud preeminence over all its competitors— a distinguished mark of success we do not arrogate entirely lo our- selves, but lo the joint labours of those talented cor- lespondents. w ho have so ably and generously assisted us with their head and heart:— assistance we shall always feel happy to acknowledge, aud proud to enjoy. Notwithstanding the triumphant career of the ihree igiual romauces continued every week in Ibis journal, • 1 I . t . , . urt^ lrtrjiilTIl"!! ( i t* tif I" 1 11. we~ have several novelties, of an extraordinary descrip- tion, ( particularly one, whieh will form ail entirely new feature,) in an active state of preparation, which, to prevent piracy, it would not be prudent to advertise at present, but of which due notice will be given. We have, also, several extensive improvements in contem- plation, which, we have no doubt, will add to the high character TUB PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLES' POLICE GAEETTB has already obtained. Who would crush the robber's might ? Who his hafdy soul would scare ? Who can daunt him in Hie fight ? Drink to them, despair! despair! Round, round, asain with glee, Let's be gav,— let's be gay ; Shout'. shout '. for victory ! Victory is ours— liiuza! Tiral la ! tiral la! Victory is ours— huzza ! The chorus being ended, Osmond and his lieutenant put on the disguise of minstrels, and so completely me- tamorphosed were they, that it would have been utterly impossihe for any person to have recognized them, or to have had any suspicion of their re il characters ; then the former having ascertained ihat Marguerite hatl recovered, and was attended by Blanche, they set forward to learn the effeefc the late engagement had had on their enemies, and also to summon the Bandit Mouks of St. Ethelbert, and the Archers of Mercey- woml. There was only one among the gang who felt any re- pugiiance at the conduct and designs of Osmond, and that one was Ulric, the husband of Blanche; and his discontent was yet but a spark, which it. was uncertain whether it would ever expand into a blaze. Notwith- standing the little cause the outlawed nobleman had to like the world, there were moments when his heart shrunk with a feeling of disgust and shame at the life lie was leading, and the wretches with whom he was asso- ciated; naturally virtuous and noble, his heart revolted with a sentiment of sickening horror at the sanguinary scenes he was often compelled to witness and mingle in, and he sighed to think that the cruelty of his father had driven him to such a course of life. Often had his merci- ful interposition saved the life of an unfortunate being, whom the robbers would otherwise have sacrificed ; aud, although many of tfiein laughed at him for what they termed his foolish humanity, notwithstanding Osmond strictly enjoined them never to use violence but when tiiey found it absolutely necessary for their own safety ; Ulric's persuasions always had due weight with them, and he was a great favourite amongst them. But the chief cause of Chic's regret and agony was, to see his wife, his still lovely and gentle Blanche, her who had been bom to such different, such happy prospects, placed in this degrading situation, and frequently did he upbraid himself for having brought her into it. He, however, never mentioned his thoughts to Blanche, and always, when in her presence, disguised his real senti- ments under a semblance of content be was tar from feeling. The account which Blanche had given him of Lady Marguerite and her perilous situation, with which he was so well acquainted, had excited his deepest interest and companion, and the conduct of Osmond in the late battle, and the terrible threats he had held out » o Lord Raymond, had created his utmost disgust. Fain would lie litve done all in his power to have assisted Marguerite, and aided ber iu escaping from the place of her confine- ment, but bis oath boii+ d him'to fidelity to his captain and the gang, and he was fully aware that his own life would inevitably be sacrificed to their vengeance should be do so, and he was, therefore, compelled, much against his inclination, to abandon such a humane idea, and left to regret, more poignantly than ever, the hard late and untoward circumstances that had placed hiiu iu a situa- tion which . precluded him from exercising the natural dictates of his heart. But what more particularly excited Ulric's disgust, was the determination Osmond had expressed, to compel Lady Marguerite to become his bride ; the bride ot a robber, whose hands had been so often imbrued in the bloedofhis fellow- creatures, and who bad no other pro- spect than a life of crime, and ultimately, an ignominious death. His intention, t » o, of h iving the lady present at tiie following day's revelry ;— exhibited to the rudegaz. e of the gang, and constrained to listen to their ribald jokes, and witness their riotous debauchery,. filled his bosom with a sentiment of the utmost indignation, which he could sealcely forbear ihe expression of in the pre- sence of Osmond and the others; but, bv a powerful effort, he stilieai his emotions, well knowing what the consequence would be if they were observed, and that, if it did not bring down upon hitu the vengeance of the « ang, would, no doubt, effectually prevent him from affording' Marguerite any little assistance towards alle- viating iier misery, which he might have it in bis power, and was resolved to do. To Blanche, however, he con- fided bis real thoughts upon tiie subject, and begged her to assure the fair prisoner how deeply he sympathized in her misfortunes, and regretted that tie bad not power to rescue her from the thraldom in which she was placed, desisted, and worn out with thought aud anxiety, the fair prisoner retired to her couch, apd shortly sunk to sleep, Blanche continuing to watch by i^ er bed- side for some time. ( To be continued in our next.) THE COINERS. BY j. s. c. ^ It happened in the year 1761. that I had to pass through Wales, to receive some money ol my uncle to a considerable amount, and it being a place appropriated to my turn of mind, I resolved on my return, to stop a month or two. I fixed my residence In a small village named W d. My principal amusement wan sketching, and I passed many pleasant hours in that delightful spot. I was taking ene of my aolltaiy rambles along the declivity of a moun- tain, thinking of my friends in England, when, suddenly, I was aroused from the reverie into which 1 had fallen, by the sound Of footsteps behind me; I turned round, and saw close to my heels, an old woman almost breathless. " The Holy Virgin protect you," she exclaimed; " I thought I should not reach you in tiiae.*' -- What rio you mean, woman?'' I said. " Five minutes more, and you would safely have gone to the devil." " You confound me, woman ; I don't understand you." / " II you'll come to my cottage, I'll tell you all about it." I scarcely knew what to do, or what she me* nt( whether she wanted to ensnare me Into the hands of banditti or what. I could not comprehend. However, alter a little consideration, I agreed to accompany her to the cottage, and In a few minutes, I found myself seated in the hut of the o'd woman. I cannot say but what I felt rather afraid, b: st summoning ciurege. and feeling my pistols were quit, safe, I told the old woman to proceed :— " The Holy Virgin protect us bath," and she caa.' her eyes round the room, Ihun began as fellows :— " You must know, sir, that you was walking at tie fOo.' of. the Devil's Mountain when I first saw you from my cottage, aod Jar- ful for your safety, I hastened as fast as my legs would let me, to slop yoil from going turther. About twenty paces from where I overtook you, I missed my husband one night, he having been to a friend's about six miles off; and, as he was lather late, I sup- pose, he thought lie would come the nearest way home, which was by the Devil's Mountain. Wei, sir, I was sitting at that v. ry door spinning, when, presently, I looked up, and saw my ould man coming along ; he had just reached the place I told you of, sure enough he vanished. There was a loud noise followed, aod the dust bleiv up j and, from that day to this, I have never seen nor heard of him, and what is most strange, I find money every week In my closet, aud yet I » m at a loss to discover how is comes there." The old woman lett off, and I sat considering some time, with the intention of go'ng away. At that moment, a low ereakluj was heard from the closet at the end of the room, and then the chinking of money, The old Woman seemed petrified, and I may say, was almost so myself. From my coat I took my pistols, and proceeded slowly towards the closet. My footsteps created ail alarm within, as I heard a noise like unto a person running down steps The old womau besought me not to open the door. I complied with her wishes, and re- placing my pistols, bade the old woman good night. I proceeded, at a rapid pace, till I reached my dwelling, ' i he old woman's story I did not believe. My sus- picions were, that, after getting me In the cottage, she wanted to betray me . in ihe hands of the robbers. The noise til the closet confirmed my ideas, and still further, her wish for me Hot to opea the closet- door. After supper, ( which the narrow escape I had had, hav'iig not at all effected my " ppetit » ), I retired to rest, and slept till tiie sun shining through Ihe window full in my face, warned me it was time to quit my bed. I arose, dressed myself, and repaired to breakfa- t, which I found o eanly set out ; after partaking of a hearty meal, I quitted my lodgings, and took quite a contrary road to which I had before taken. To amuse myself, I took Shakspwe's Plays with me. I had wandered naarly an hour, not knowing wlllther I was going, for I was so busied In reading the beautiful psges of the « Tempest,' when, on a sadden, the ground nave way, the book fell, nnd I was precipitated I know not where j ( it was the Devil's Mountain.) When I recovered, I fuund my- self surrounded by a set of ferocious- looking men; directly they saw I lived, the cry was " Kill him ! kill him I" At that moment a dozen daggers were raised to stall ine, and were descending, when a commanding voice cried " Hold I do you know what yon do; he's some gentleman, let's see what reward he'll give us?'' I raised myself, and asked what sum wouW set me at liberty. " Five hundred pounds," said the captain. " Tl s not enough," cried twenty voices. " A thousand pounds,"' I said i will that do?" " It shall eto,' said the captains " bring forth the cup and dagger.' I trembled from lle. id to foot; the things were brought forwards each man tucked his sleeve up to his elbow, and slood in a llnei my fear increased, and I almost fatat- d. The first who broke silence was the captain, who commanded a person to take the cap to each man, and from his arm draw six drops of blood ; when the whole of them had done the required order, the cup was handed to me. I stood motionless for same time. " Drink!" cried the captain, " and swear that it we set you at liberty, you'll never betray us." I took the required oath and drank the blood. My heart heaved a glass of refreshing wine was tllrn handed to me, which I drank with great avidity. I was then blindfolded, and led through passages till I reached a room where I was left In the care of four men; two others, in porters' habits, fetched my port- manteau. When they returned, I was led to the place where I had fallen through, which was a trap- door, so well constructed, that no human eye could discover it, unless aivare of the secret-, it was made so that tha weight of a person would torce it down sideways, and let you slide off; on reaihing th. bottom, it wouhl bound up again, making the noise and dust the old woman saw. Att. r the money was counted out, I h « d left twenty. three pounds, and I thought the best plan was to proceed home, , nd the neit day found me travelling fast towards L . ndon, I had determined not to betray them ; and, therefore, kept, the secret to myself. Ten years having passed since that eventful dey, I had almost forgot it, when, one morning, as I was sitting alone, a rat- tat came at the deor, and the. servant nunounced two gentlemen - they were shown In, and who should I recognise, but the captain anJ anotker man I met with In the Devil's Mountain. The captain proved to be the old woman's husband, who was, as before related, letdown the Devil's Mountain ; and, at length, became ihe chief of a gang ot coiaers, who, for a century past, had inhabited tbe mountain, fearleg, lest his wife should want. By means of a secret passage, money was conveyed Into the old woman's closet, and it, appea- red, that she sitting up rather later than usual, to tell me the story, and it being the night for the money to be put in the closet. Th. captain thlnklng. she had retired, was placing tbe money on the shelf, whi. li . caused the chinking, when I walked across tiie room, which unusual lootsteps alarmed tho captain, and iu Ms hurry, dropped the trap, and ran down the stairs, thinking he was cnuglit, which c, insert the noise In the closet, whilst at tlie otd woman's house. He had come to my house with the inten- tion of paying ine my ^ 10011, for, having made his fortune, he had retired, and the secrecy I hail kept so pleased him, that the J^ IOM was paid ivith'the greatest pleasure. f f ABOU HANIPA.— Abou Hanifa was the founder ® f one of the prin- cipal aeeta of the Sunnites. Such w. is his reputation. for extensive knowi « dKe purity ot morals, that he was appointed cadi l. y th.; Caliph A'maazor. Abou, however, rtfused 10 qui'- his retrear. and the Otliphj irritated hy hi* obstinacy, ordered h'rri to be thrown into prison. wh* re promises and threats were vainly employed to vfttiq, ui? h his repugnance. ' M had rather,'' said he, " b^ punished by man thin by God!" Wh » n ha w* s asked the rrason o! his dislike to public functions, " It is." answered he, " because, if I am just enough to listen only t > the truth, nobody will wish to have » e for a judge and if I am bnse enough to palliate or betray it, 1 shall render myself unworthy of presiding over the concerns of my fellow- citizens." PUNNING EPITAPH.— Cecil Clay, the counsellor of Chesterfield, caused this vvlilmsical allusion or pun upon his name, to be put on bis grava- s- tone— a cypher of two C's, and uuderneath, " sum uuod fui, y ( I am what I was. - TlIE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. THE DEATtt GRASP; OR, A FATHER'S CURSE 1 BY THE AETSEA • P " ELA, THE OUTCAST," ETC. ( Cnitinucd frtm our last.) THE house of Caleb SWINTON was snon reduced to a heap of smoking ruins, and ( lie property saved was • very Utile. A neighbour gladly received liira and his family, no person in the vicinity could be more re- spected than he was; for in deeds of philamhropy he had ever been foremost, and, in many instances had afforded that relief, which saved many a deserving ob- ject from a state of destitution. Caleb Swinton at first imagined that the awful calamity had occurred through accident; but it was not long before his sus- picions were aroused against the villain, De Floriville, wha had been seen in Ihe locality by several persons, only a short time prior to the fire taking place ; and if he had entertained any doubt upon Ihe subject, he was quickly convinced of the correctness of it, hy re- ceiving a note in the handwriting of De Floriville, in which he not only admitted the perpetration of the deed, hut expressed his exultation at the same, ; ind vowed to be still further avenged, unless Caleb agraed^ y0 acknowledge whither his unfortunate wife had gone. It was a terrible loss to poor Caleb, but he quickly became resigned to it, and felt an innate gratification in knowing that he had acted as his conscience dictated, and had not betrayed the confidence reposed in him l> y Madame De Floriville, whom he so highly esteemed, am! whom he had, on so many occasions, run such risks to = erve. The threats of Adolplie, however, were the cause of much pain and alarm to him, for ha had too much reasou to know his implacable disposition, and that he would not fail to seize the first opportunity to put his promises into execution, and, consequently, that it would be necessary for him to retire from the neighbourhood, which would be a most important loss to him, as he would have to re- establish himself iti bu- siness, independent of the property he had already lost by the conflagration. However, he had no other alternative, without he coald form tha resolution to bring Ihe incendiary to justice, which, knowing the anguish it would cause Madams De Floriville, he couid not for a moment think of doing. With a heavy heart, therefore, was Caleb Swinton compelled to quit that neighbourhood in which he had been for so many years established, and to seek out another place to settle in. He fin tunately met with a promising spot, and in a pari of the country where he thought it was improbable De Floriville would discover him; and having made Madame De Floriville acquainted wilh the whole cir- cumstances, he received from her a full indemnifica- tion for the los » he had sustained, and a fervent ac- knowledgment of the sincerity he had evinced in her cause, which plainly showed the strength ol his friend- ship towards her, and strengthened the esteem she had always entertained towards him, an esteem, which had been engendered in the first instance by the natural humanity and urbanity of his character; simple and humble, as he originally was, lo use his own expres- sions, he possessed those " natural feelings" which would have been an ornament to many persons in a dif- ferent sphere of life, and of much greater pretension". Madame De Floriville felt greatly shocked and dis- gusted at the brutal conduct of her husband, and such was the revolting nature of his character, m callous had lie become to all those feelings whi^ li entitled him to any esteem in the world, that she could not think of him without abhorrence, and sincerely wished that something would occur to remove him from that world upon which he was such a blot, without his being brought to that ignominious end which his crimes de- served; and which, from the course of lite he led, ap- peared to be inevitable. To contribute any further to his improvidence, she considered would he unjust to herself and her son, and she resolved hy all pos- aihlA I. nvoiil it n fS<. + „ rm < n t i... I.: .. i. ? , especially as it would be indispensably necessary that Henri should go into society ; and, consequently, that she herself should not live quite in that state of seclu- sion thai she had hitherto done. It was not long ere they had cultivated the friendship of a select few, by ivhom their society was liiuth courted, and who were likely to adyaufte ( ho interests of Henri. Henri being of a temperament, warm, ardent, and en- thusiastic, it will no! be a matter of astonishment that the dark- eyed maidens of I taly should excite his admi- raiion; and in return, his handsome features, noble figure, and gallant address, ntade him an universal favourite among them- Love, however, was a stranger to his heart, susceptible as it was, until a circumstance took place, which we are now about to relate. Riding was an exercise in which Henri frequently indulged, and when disengaged from his studies, he would enjoy tbe delightful scenery with which this charming country abounds. It happened one afternoon, he had proceeded rather farther than was his visual cus- tom, tempted by the fineness of the vvealher and the beauty of the prospect before liita, when suddenly re- collecting the lime, he was in the acl of returning home w hen the piercing screams of a female smote his ears, and seemed to proceed from no great distance from where he at that time was. Ever ready to lend his aid tn those who needed it, especially a female; bold and determined, and reckless of danger, Henri turned his horse's head, and hastened in the direction to which he was guided . by ihe cries for help, when his eyes en- countered the form of a female struggling in the grasp of a man who bore the garb and appearance of a gen- tleman. This was enough for the spirited young man, and lie galloped up to the rescue. The man seeing him approach, became more desperate, and raising the screaming female in his arms, was about to carry her forcibly off, whett the latter called loudly on him to hold, anil th « next momerit he Was along side of them, aud found that the lady was of the most exquisite beailiy, while the man bore the countenance of a de- termined libertine and debauchee, " Oh, help I help I save me, stranger, 1 implore you, from this unmanly ruffian," cried the beauteous maiden, in accents sufficient to penetrate and excite the compas- sion of tile most insensible bosom. " Villain I" exclaimed Henri," immediately, dis- mounting from his horse and rushing upon the than;— " what means this outrage f Release tlie damsel, or I will cleave thee to the earth I" " Insolent boy I" cried the other furiously, and draw- ing his sWord as lie spoke ; " forbear to interfere with lhat which concerns thee not:— stand off! or thou shalt quickly have good reason lo repent thy daring I" The maiden by a powerful effort disengaged herself from the ruffian's hold, and flew to the protection of Henri, w ho had unsheathed his sword, and prepared to defend her wilh his life. The man rushed impetuously upon him, but Henri met him with that cool intrepidity which plainly shewed lhat the combat would quickly be decided in his favour; and, in a very few minutes, he severely wounded his antagonist in the shoulder, who dropped his weapon, and ut( eri » g the most Violent imprecations against his conqueror, tied precipitately frotn the spol. Overcome by new tettOfSj. and the excitement she had undergone, the maiden had fainted, and Henri hastily bore her lo the margin of a lake which was close by, where he bathed her temples, and used every means in his power to restere her to sensibility. While perform- ing this task, he gazed with the most unbounded asto- nishment and admiration upon the uncommon beauty of the damsel he had been so fortunate as to rescue. Never had he seen any being half so lovely. Ske was evi- dently very young, probably not more than fifteen years of age, hut her person was tall and majestic, aitd » jm. metry and grace itself. Her eyes were black, and en- chantingly biilliant; her features regular, and redolent of gentleness, End intelligence; her lips were tempt- ingly red alld pouting ; and her teeth were, to make no THE ROYAL FAVOURITE. AM ORIGINAL ROMANCE. ( Continutd from our last.) " My lord Stair," said the queen, " see^ you that Gil- bert, accompanied by a party of guards, proceed to the castle of Fothri » gay, and conduct hither the Earls of Essex and Southampton as prisoners, antL lodge them in the Beauchamp Tower until our pleasure is known." " Your majesty's orders shall be obeyed," said Lord Stair, bowing, and preparing to retire. Before he could reach the door, however, it flew open, and Essex him- self, equipped in a travelling suit, advanced boldly to- wards the throne. The Countess of Rutland uttered a faint shriek, and succeeded in veiling her face before the earl had time to notice her. " My lord," he exclaimed, haughtily, " he is here to save you that trouble, aud to answer for himself." " How now, trait ® r ?" said Elizabeth, rising in ang. r from her seat. " What brintis thee so boldly into our presence ?" " Your majesty is soon answered," he replied, with a forced calmness. " I have but just arrived at the Toner, and. in crossing the door of this chamber, overheard your majesty's orders for the arrest of myself and the Earl of Southampton, and I hastened to learn the cause." Internally Essex trembled at the aspect of affairs, but, not knowing of the presence of his wife, whom he firmly believed to be dead, he determined to brave the storm, and deny every accusation, hy which me& ns he yet hoped to allay the anger of Elizabeth, as he had done before; and, if that failed, he had still left the signet- ring, which the queen had given him. " Consummate hypocrite," muttered Elizabeth, from between her teeth. " Kn iwest not thou this fair lady ?" pointing to liffie. " 1 do : she is the same wiih whom Your majesty for- bid mv marriage some mouths back."" " 1 know it. And did thou nut swear solemnly that thou had nought to do with her second disappearance, and of the destruction of her home. Didst thou nut swear that thou hadst forgotten her 111 still vviil swear all this,'' i her. said Essex, interrupting her some innocent recreation strive to forget ^ for awhile the horrible events ofthe morning." gible means t » avoid it, a determination which received exaggerated use of a common simile, as white as the the warmest commendation ofthe amiable Mr. Wake- field and his sister. She was pleased that Caleb Swin- ton had removed from the neighbourhood in which he had resided until the time of tile fire, and from the cir- cumstance of his having assumed another name, she was in hopes that Adolplie would not be enabled lo discover him, and thus prevent any annoyance to the former, and destroy every clue to the place of her re- treat. ' rile remembrance of the last event gradually he- came banished from Madame De Floriville's mind; and, as riiotlh afler month elapsed, and she heard no- thing more of him, ihe became, in the society of Mrs. St, Albyn and her brother, more tranquil than she had been for many years before. Henri, too, daily im- proved in intrinsic qualities and personal appearance, and was a source of the greatest consolation and hap- piness to his mother under the numerous troubles it had fallen to her lot to endure. One circumstance, however, caused her Considerable uneasiness, which was lhat it would become necessary for him to travel for the completion of his education, and acquiring that knowledge from personal observation, which he could n t obtain without. The bare idea of a separation from her son, and Mr. Wakefield ( who would, of Course, accompany him), was sufficient to occasion her exceeding grief; nor could Henri even contemplate it with any degree of patience. He was willing to make any sacrifice of his own interest rather than have to adopt such a course, and it was at last settled to ihe sa- tisfaction of all parties; Madame De Floriville having latterly so fur improved in point of health, as to enable her to undertake to accompany him oii his continental tour. This, however, was attended by many causes of regret, and some apprehension; the first of which was exciled by the necessity w hich compelled her to quit that place where she had become settled, and lo which she was attached, and the latter by tbe chance, if her husband was still li ving, that he might encounter her in the course of her travels, and become the same source of annoyance and terror to her that he had formerly been, and from which she was protected while in the country where the principal portion of his heavy crimes had been perpetrated. To these necessities, not- withstanding, Madame De Floriville at length became reconciled, and set about making the requisite arrange- ments for Ihe journey, Italy being the first place fixed upon for their temporary residence. Nearly another year had now elapsed since the in- cendiarism committed opo « Caleb Swinton by De Flori- ville, and nothing whatevei had been heard of bir. i, so, that Madame Laurelte, and her friends again became more composed, and their apprehensions were consi derably quieted, thinking it not at all improbable that his career of guilt had been abruptly terminaled by the effects of dissipation, or that, having failed to diecover any clue to the place of her retreat, he bad given tip his researches after her in despair. To Caleb Swintou Madame De Floriville confided her plans, und requested him, as before, to communicate to her, as early as pes sible, any intelligence he might be enabled to obtain of bim. Everything being soon arranged for ihe ( our, our travellers commenced their journey, and it was not without the deepest regret and sorrow that they quilled that place which had becoiuo so much endeared lo them. We will pass hastily over tho journey, which was unaccompanied by any incident of sufficient im porlance to be particularly noticed, aud bring them at once to Italy, where they settled themselves in a de- lijhlful villa, situated on the margin of a lake, and sltriounded by flie most romantic atid picturesque scenery, affording every enjoyment to Ihe admirers ofthe beauties of nature. Italy! beautiful Ilalyl land of sunny skies— nnd perpetual summer, insensible indeed must he the heart which could not rebound be- lieuth Ihe genial influence of thy clime. It soon had a visible effect upon ihe spirits and health of them ull; Madame De Floriville scarcely ever mentioned Ihe name ofher husband, and it seemed as if she had almost succeeded in driving him from her thoughts, while Henri, in leeing the alteration and improvement iu his mo- ther, found the principal portion of his own happi- ness, and became almost a stranger to c » re. ^ Madame De Kloriville had here, as well as in France, bought it prudent to go under an assumed name, more purest pearl It would be impossible to do adequate justice in de- scription, to the feelings that took possession of the soul of Henri, as he held lhiAeauteous object in his arms, mid endeavoured to relmre. her to animatioa, suprise and admiration held predominant sway in his bosom. It was some minutes ere the lovely girl gave any signs of returning sensibility; but at length the exer- tions of Henri were amply rewarded : she heaved a gentle sigh, and opening her eyes, fixed them upon his countenance, wilh an expression which made his heart beat tumultously in his bosom, and caused a sensation of the inoBt powerful and exquisite descrip- tion to rush through his veins. Gently disengaging her- self from his hold, while deep blushes mantled in her cheeks, she appeared astonished and bewildered as she gave utterance to the word?, " Where hm I ? Where is that base man who would have torn me from my friends ?" Beauteous lady," replied Henri, " he not alarmed, I beg of you ; I have been fortunale enough ( o rescue you from ihe power of Ihe ruffian of whom you speak, and am ready to conduct you to your friends imme- diately. Under my protection you have not the least occasion for fear; but 1 think it would be advisable to quit this spot as speedily as possible, lest the villain slivuid return with assistance, which X may not be able to withstand." " Oh! Signor," returned the damsel in tones of sweetness enough to thrill trie soul with rapture, " bow can [ sufficiently express to you my thanks for the ser- vice yon have rendered me ? L had been taking a walk a short disiance from lite villa of my mother, Signora Venoni, when I was inot hy the Duke Monterino, who haR several times annoyed mF wilh his hateful passion, and but for your timely uid, I should doubtless ere long have been a prisoner in his Casino, the bare idea of which fills my bosom wilh the most indescribable horror; again, Signor, must I express my gratitude fo you; a sentiment in which 1 know, the Signora, my molher, will most Cordially join." While the maiden spoke, Henri became completely enchanted. He dwelt upon every syllable she gave utterance to, with the most unbounded admiration, and when she ceased, he begged that she would not think herself under any obligation to him; that lie felt t » o happy in having so luckily been made the instrument of saving lier from the attempts of BO powerful and fear- ful an enemy, aiid llien once more urged the propriety of no longer remaining where they were, and requested lo be made acquainted where Signora Venom's villa was Situated. The maiden was about to reply to his ques- tions, when they suddenly beheld saveral persons liur- risdly approaching, tha sight of whom at first excited tome apprehension in the bosom of He » ri, he thinking it probable that they were the creatures of the Duke Monterino, but his. fears we. re quickly banished wken ( lie damsel informed him ( ha( they were the domestics of her mother, who had doubtless been sent in search of her. Henri having briefly informed them of what had laken place, gave his horse t* one of the men, and ( aking the arm of the blushing and trembling girl, wilh her assent, escorted her lowards home. ( T » bt ctnlinued in our next.) " What, ho!" exclaimed Elizabeth, stampin foot furiously. An attendant entered, aud Elizabeth continued,— '' Setid hither Gilbert, and let a guard be in readiness to conduct the earl to his lodgings, for he leaves not the Tower tbisjniuht." The attendant bowed, and disappeared. The Earl glanced inquisitively at the veiled lady, aud his coun- tenance betokened considerable coafusiou at these words; but his confidence soot returned, and lie pati- ently awaited the result. In a few minutes Gilbert ap- peared. He seemed greatly surprised at the presence of Kssex, and mutual gUtices of deadly animosity passed between them. He approached the throne, and bowed respectfully. " Gilbert," she said, " know' you that man ?" point- ing to Essex. " Know him !" exclaimed Gilbert, scarcely repressing hisfuty. " I have truly cause to know him? Is he not, most grafcious qiieeti, the priihe cause of all niy own and Lady - Jane's troubles ?— was he not the murderer of my poor father ? Oh '. that 1 could meet him iu some lonely place, where none could come between us, my father's blood, that uow cries aloud for vengeance, should be appeased I" " Hear you this, ihy lord ?" asked Elizabeth, with a scofnful sttlile. " Do you still persist iu asserting your innocence ?" " 1 do; and if your majesty give me but a patient hearing " " We will hear no more," said the queen. " Thy guilt is too clear. Another well- known face yet remains fo greet thee. Rumours have gone about of violence used to the Countess of Rutland, thy late wife, whose sudden disappearance created great surprise at court. What say you to this, my lord ? " That, all is false 1— by Heaven I swear it!" ex- claimed the earl, thinking that he was now treading on sure ground. " I have witnesses to prove the circum- stances of her death, and of her fair and honourable burial." " Liar!" murmured Elizabeth. " Here is one who can prove thy falsehood " In the next moment Herbert Villiers stood face to face with Essex. A sudden tremor, should Iiis frame, and bis band unconsciously grasped the hilt of his sword, but Gilbert'/ hand arrested him, and he, with some dif- ficulty, controlled himself. " My lord," said Herbert, " it is useless longer to de « yit. 1 have repented of my former life, and have, for once, deceived thee. Here are the written orders which you gave me concerning the imprisonment of your wife, and here is the golden reward that tempted hie to the deed." As Herbert spoke, he placed upon the table some papers and a bag of g' Id. " And can your majesty believe me guilty on the evi dence of such a poltroon as this— one who has already enoseH in him hv his lord the point of his CROSS READINGS. For sale, a beautiful nvare— will be found particularly useful In tiie nursery— being exceedingly fond of children, knows how to get up line linen, and is very clever at the needle. Mr. Kean, after playing the part of Richard tlte Third to a brilliant anil crowded house —. vas sentenced to be transported for fourteen years. f.- xf yesterday afternoon, in— a paper pa- col, containing— Three waterfalls— and a hamper of greens.— Any person having found the same, on applying to— will be punished with the utmost rigour of the law. Wanted a person pfofrerly qualified to take the whole manage- ment of the— weather in and about Glasgvw.— A reference as to character and abilities will be required. Au i. quest was hel'i on Monday last, on the body of— a large Newfoundland dog, which was found floating in the river Clyde.— After an investigation which lasted upwards of sey. n lioors, the jiiry returned a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown. A meeting of Mr. James Forrest's creditor, will be held In the .— Bay of K scay— on Monday next, at 12 noon,— Parties interested are requested to atteiid. T'i.- i. ^ savings bank for the County of— is finished, and will be opeheri t'of the public on the first of aext month.— No money to be returned. broken the trust reposed in him by his lord " If he were the only evidence, perhaps not," coolly replied Elizabeth. " " But there is yet another witness who will prove still more unwelcome. Let the Countess of Rutland shew herself!" Words cannot paint the surprise and contusion into which Essex was thrown, when his wife, advancing to the foot of the throne, drew aside her veil, and disclosed her features— her line eyes dimmed with many a tear. He looked around him for some moments in almost stupefaction, and then, all his long- collected rage bursting forth, he rushed upon Herbert, exclaiming,— " ' I raitorous wretch I receive the reward of thy per tidy !" His sword leapt with the rapidity of lightning into Iiis body, and Herbert, the blood spouting from his gaping wound, fell lifeless on the rush- covered floor. " Tn-. u blood- thirsty villain!" exclaimed Gilbert, ( who had been unable, from the rapidity of his move- ment, to arrest his intention,) grappling him furiously by the throat, " thou leavest not this chamber alive !" Essex, by his superior strength, contrived to extricate hinwelf from his grasp, and, in his turn, became the assailant. They aaaiu grappled, and fell together to the ground, the earl being uppermost. " Knave !" he shouted, as, quickly rising, he planted Iiis foot on Gilbert's breast, aud held th sword to his throat, " ask thy life I" " Never." " Oh, in mercy's sake spare him!" shrieked Lady Jane, throwing herself at the feet ol the earl, " spare him !" " To revel iu thy love," replied Essex, with a grim smile. " What would hare been my fate, think you, if fortune had deojared iu bis favour? No; the die is cast. 1 know my doom, but I will not be baffled in my revenge." And he prepare ! to plunge his sword in the breast of his strugglingevict'in. " Oh ! kill me first," exclaimed Lady Jane, throwing herself across Gilbert; " but let me not see the death of the only trieutl thy villauy hatlr left me." Hardly had she uttered these words when Essex was torn violently from Gilbert— his sword snatched from his hand, and he found himself surrounded by a uum ber of the yeomen of the guard, who, alarmed by the shrieks ofthe affrighted queen and her attendants, had immediately hastened thither, aud bad arrived just in time to prevent the perpetration of a second tragedy. Gilbert rose from the ground, and Lady Jane, from excess of emotion, fell fainting iu his arms. " Guards," exclaimed the enraged queen, " convey that traitor to the Bo « vyer's Tower, and see that he be strictly guarded." Th y obeyed in silence, and left the room, carrying with them the body of Herbert. " My Lady Murray," said Elizabeth, turning to that lady, who, with the assistance of the Countess of Rut- land, were aiding Gilbert iu the restoration of Lady Jane, " this Tower is no longer a fitting place for you. I despatched a messenger yest- erday to Gordon House, anil Lord Murray arrives at the Tower to- day. But, remember, 1 must have no feuds. The Earl of South- ampton shall receive bis punishment at our hands only, and we will see that justice is done coequal with the crime." Lady Murray bowed her thanks, aud Elizabeth con tinued ;— " Vou, ladies," addressing the Countesses of Shrews- bury and Rutland, " will remain at our court for the preseut, until this sad affair has been fully investigated. And, 1 presume, where the Lady Jane is, there also will be Gilbeu." Gill ert bent before the queen to kiss the extended hand, and his heart was full of gratitude. " Nt. w At us leave this chamber of blood, and in CHAPTER XIV. LEAVING Lady Jane and Gilbert, we must now follow Essex to the Bowyer's Tower, in a topmost chamber of which he was confined, with strict orders to the sentry, who kept watch at his door, that no one should hold " any intercourse with him. It was a small room looking upon the moat that washed the northern walls ofthe Tower, and had but one window, slrongly barred, and which presented not the least hope of escape to its inmate. After the events of the morning he felt that lie had lost all favour with the queen, and he enter- tained not the least hope of pardon:— he felt that he had tempted her favour too far, and he looked upon the block as a, certain reward for his long black list of crimes. When left to himself, the first thing he did was to examine all the hars which secured his window. But all were fast, and he retired from the window in disappointment. The evening gun had long announced the approach of night, and the whole ofthe inhabitants of the Tower had retired to rest, when a dark figure was observed to leave the lieutenant's quarters, and hastened towards the Bowyer's Tower. As lie passed tlie different sentries on the walls, they saluted him in silence, and allowed him to pass unquestione'd,' and he reached his destina- tion without interruption- The sentry at the door of the earl's prison retired at his approach, and the stranger drawing some keys from beneath his dress, unlocked the massy door, and drawing back the bolts, stood before Essex, who had not yet retired to rest. " Who have we here?" said he, rising from his seat in surprise at this late visit. " One who is willing to release you, my lord, on one slight condition," replied tbe stranger, cautiously clos- ing the door, and locking it in the inside, so as to secure them from interruption. " And to whom am 1 indebted for this visit ?" asked Essex. " To none, save myself." " What is the condition you spoke of ?" " You muit give me your word, my lord, that, in ca- e of refusal, you will not divulge one word of what 1 am about to communicate.' " But I must first know to whom it is I pledge my word. How know I that this may not be some scheme of my enemies to entrap me for my destruction ?" " ton have nought to fear on that score, my lord. But you ask but what is lair, and I have no hesitation in giving my name.— I am Babington, under- lieutenant of the Tower. Let my confidence in you induce your lordship to confide in me." " Well, then," said Essex, after a short deliberation, " I pledge you my word not to reveal anything that may pass between us." " Be seated, my lord," said Babiugton. The earl obeyed, and Babiugton proceeded. " Though obliged to conform in outward appearance to tbe rules of the Reformed Church, I am still a Roman Catholic at heart, and my conscience often pricks me for my deceptive conduct. 1 am now eager to make amends for this ; and iu conjunction with many others, some of them nobles of great note are determined on attempting to place the injured Mary Stuart on the throne of England. Now, to come to the point at once, my condition of your escape is, your joining with us in this plot, both band aud fortune." " What!" exclaimed Essex, in the utmost surprise, " join in a base conspiracy to pluck Elizabeth from the throne ? Never. I have given my word as to your safety, so I Will hear no more. Leave the room in- stantly." " Nay, not so, my lord," replied Babington, coolly. " Are you not under her majesty's displeasure ? Does uot your very life hang on her slightest breath ? And trust me, my lord, that a jealous woman's anger is not so easily appeased, especially, too, since the countess has returned alive." Essex arose from his seat, and paced his narrow room impatiently. It was apparent that the last words of Babington bad sunk deeply into his mind. Suddenly p » using in the middle of the room, he asked, " Aud who are associated with you in this plot?" It would not be politic in me, my lerd, to reveal names; but this I am permitted to assure you, that your friend, the Earl of Southampton, is one of the principals." "" lis strange," replied Essex, doubtingly, " that I should not bave heard of this before." " Not so, my lord ; for the station you have till now held at court deterred us from allowing him to mention it to you. But uow circumstances are altered, aud we cau confer a favour iustead of seeking one." " Southampton is by this time in their power," mmsed Essex, " and I cannot try this man's honesty." " I am aware that orders have been given for his apprehension, my lord; but, trust me, his friends do not sleep. But think, In case of our succeeding, what will be the reward of such a man as your lordibip— the favours, the honours, the riches, which Mary Stuart will heap upon your head. On the other hsnd, what will be your fate if you remain in your present position — a long wearisome imprisonment, with the block as a dreary prospective; with this consolation, too, that our plot will be carried into effect whether you aid us or no. Now, my lord, what is your answer ?" " I acce| ft your offer," said Essex, rising, and ex- tending his hand across the table, which was eagerly clasped by Babington, " aud the sooner you enable me to leave tliis place the better." " I rejoice in your determination," replied Babing- ton," and I shall seize the first opportunity that occurs. In the meantime, do not attempt an escape without my knowledge, as it will I e fraught with the utmost danger. To morrow I will return, bringing with me undeniable proofs of my honesty to yourself." " 1 am satisfied," said Essex ; " but hark I what noise is that without the door ?" " By the Holy Virgin !" whispered Babington, grasp- ing his sword, " the guara hath been listening, and we, in the warmth of our dispute, have spoken rather loudly. I must Mop his prattling tongue, however, or we shall soon have Walsin § ham with his ravenous wolves about us." He rushed to the door, and, unlocking it, threw it wide open. The dark shadow of a retreating figure appeared at tbe end of the passage, and then was lost to their sight " Farewell!" he cried to the earl, " till to- morrow ;" and then, fastening the door, darted after the flying guard. He was well acquainted with the ground, and, by the time he r- ached the court below, be caught a glimpse of the fugitive's figure as he hastily passed under the porch of St. John's Chapel, through which there is a passage leading to the northern ramparts." As Babiugton crossed the court in which the chapel stood, several yeomen of the guard approached, and, presenting their halberds, demanded w ho he was. " Put up your weapons, knaves," he exclaimed, im- patiently, and follow me. 1 have uarrowly escaped from a- sassination by that villain Roderic, who has just pa- sed through the chapel. A hundred crowns to him whose halberd first tastes. bis blood." Tnis speech had tlie desired effect, for the inen recog- nized tl. e voice of the under lieutenant, and, eager to earn the promised reward, followed Babington, shouting " death to the assasssiu !" Passing rapidly through tiie chapel, they reached the rampaits, at the further end of which they perceived the unfortunate Roderic in the act ol scaling a wall which separated him from tlie Outer Bulwark Tower, They raised- a tiiumpl ant shout, and, like so many ravenous bull- dogs, rushed along the ramparts towards the spot where he disappeared. Babin^ tou was the first to ciimb tbe wall, but when lie reached the opposite side, Roderic had disappeared. He was soon joined by the yeomen, and a most rigorous search took place: every buttress, every embrasure, nay, every cannon was examined, but without success, aud they looked at each other in sileut wondi. r. The court yard they were now in was guarded at two corners by the Bulwark Towers, the gates of both which were firmly closed; aud these, together wilh a small postern in the wall over which they had just climbed, and which was also fasteued, were the only meanstof entrance or egress. The remaining siue of the court- yard was guarded by the moat, into which he could not have descended without noise, as, although it was flood tide, there was a space of at least six feet between tbe water and the top of the wall. " He must be concealed somewhere close at hand," exclaimed Babiugtou, in a tone of disappointment; " and, by heaven ! I will not quit this spot until I find him. Quick, some of you, and procure lights." Two of the yeomen re- climbed the wall, and hastened to obey him, while Babington himself, keeping strict watch around him, rested himself by reclining against the wall. His back, however, had scareely touched ttie stones of which it was composed, than he started fr.' rai it, and exclaiming, " By heaven! I have bim now I peered anxiously at the top of the tower against wluch he had been leaning. But the darkness was too intense for him to perceive anytliiug at such a distance, and he impatiently awaited the arrival of the yeomen with the lights. . The glare of the torches soon announced their ap- proach, aud in a few minutes they again reached the court yard. " Bring the lights," exclaimed Babmgton. See, here are his foot- marks, and he is uow on the summit ot this tower, from whence there is no escape." As be spoke he pointed to the projecting stones with which the corners of the towers were faced on that side only, and up which it was evident that the fugitive must have climbed, not only from the dislodged pieces ot moss which were scattered about, but from the fact that there was no other mode of egress. The opposite sides of the towers were free from these stones, and, there- fore, not possible to descend. It was apparent, from all these circumstances, that the unfortunate man had sought this place of refuge as his last and only chauce ° fTheamen directed their lights as they were ordered, their eyes caught the ruddy flash of steel on the top of the tower. Bebingtnn saw it also, and, grasping his sword firmly, cautiously climbed the projecting stones. He had nearly gained the top, when a voice, m desperate tones, exclaimed— Advance but one Step further, and I will hurt IShee headlong into the court. 1 am worked to desperation, and my hand will stay at nought-' . „ ., " Thy threats are of' no avail, fhtfu fahe traitor said Babmgton, in a low tone, intended « uly tor Kotleric s ear—" thou diest!" And still he proceeded- . Roderic made a despetate blow at him wis. 1 his sword ; but Baoington with difficulty parried it, and, stepping on the summit, stood face to face with the spy. Ihe face of Roderic underwent a deadly change : he well knew the skill of Babingion in tiie use of tlie sword, and he could hear the encouraging shouts of the yeomen in the court- yard, as their comrades climbed the tower to assist his enemy. T « e under- lieatenant pressed closely on him, and he gradually retreated to the battlements. Babingtou saw his situation, and goaded him backwards by repeated pricks with his swotd, until he vvas obliged to mount one of them, and he was now within a foot of utter destruction. In front of him gleamed the sword of his enemy, and behind him frowned the dark and dreary moat. A deadly sickness came over hiin— Ba- bington perceived this advantage. He rai.- ed his sword to strike, wheu Roder'ic, witli a loud shriek, jumped Irom the battlement into the uioat, receiving and carry- ing with hiin his enemy's sword, and disappeared iu the darkling waters, to rise no more. The guards reached the summit in time to see him jutnp from the battlement; and their feelings of triumph were changed to those of horror at his dreadful fate. They descended again in silence, ann Babiugtou divided the reward among them in equal quantities. They then sought their quarters, there to talk over the tragical event, and Babington to rejoice that he was once more safe from suspicion. ( To be continued. j BARNARD FAIRWEATHER, A TALE FOR THE SUPERSTITIOUS. " Ne let house- fires, nor lightning's helpless harms, Ne let the Pouke, nor other evil sprlght, Ne let mischievous witches with their charms, Ne let hobgoblins, names whose sense we see not. Fray us with things that be not." SPENSER. Superstition Is a desponding fear of dlviHitles; it to ® often fixes' itself upon the weakness of our nature, leading its victims into egregious errors, in the exercises of their devotional, as well as domestic pursuits. ' Tis strange; ' tis passing strange, that, in an age so enlightened, there should exist so many stannch believers In the marvellous j so many who put faith In the miraculous tales of ghosts and gob- lins— the spring- heeled Jacks of their own fevered imaginations; putting faith in t ie existence of omens, good and evil j dreams lucky and unlucky. Barnard Fairiveather, of Dalston, is a gentleman, whose every action of life is regulated by a strict observance of all absurd supertitious notions that exist. " Stars teach as well as shine.'' is a quotation often used by Barnard; but stars are not, In hie opinion, the only prophetic messengers of Heaven. The moon, sun, the elands, all come in for a share of Barnard's daily consul- tation.— his favourite black cat Is watched, fed, and caressed, with as much affection as it is possible to bestow upon a child. Numer- ous as various are his omens of death: the death- pinch, death- watch, death- ring, the winding- sheet, the huwling- cur, and the coal coffin, foi- m but a few signs from his vocabulary of imaginary prognostics. I have dined with bin; several times, but never without being annoyed by some unlueky occurrence. " My dear fellow," he would exclaim, " how many times I have cautioned you about placing the salt on. the right- h'ind side of your plate!" I, oa one occasion, informed Mm 1 did so, la order that there might not b'. i any left. The reply, however, obtained a frown of displeasure, for Barnard cannot bear with a joke that appears to be aimed in derision of his faith. Sometimes the knives would be crossed, or, what was more prophetic still, the loaf part In twain, a sure and certain sign of separation. The last time I visited Barnard was on a Friday. He received me very coolly ; I could not, at first, defina the cause of his mysterious behaviour, but, afterwards, learned It was an unlucky day. " Who would ever have thought of your coming all this way on a Friday, the moat unfortunate occurr. nce that could possibly have taken place I hut 1 felt convinced I should have something to vex me, for my nose haB been itching all the morning. Dear, dear,'' he excialme:!, " when I think of it, this must be the foreruner of some fearful mishap, for Mrs. Fair- weather not only cut her nails before breakfast last Monday morn- ing. but was thoughtless enough to help herself twice to salt yes- terday at dinner time. I, however, in a mea- nre, soothed him, by stating that I had called upon him to accompany me as far as the astrologer's in Mile End. as I intended making some enquiries relative to having my nativity cast. Barnard appeared to rejoice in my conversation to his faith. I'il accompany you with pleasure,'' . aid he, and immediately CO menced rummaging his pocket- book for the prophet's address have It," said be, " at last," at the same time producing dirty pink card, on which was printed the following :—" Parker, Stationer, Lecturer ou Astrology. Nativities cal No. 9, Cambridge- road, ( late the Dog- row), Mile- end.— N. sonal attendance not essentially requisite." Would a _ availed ourselves of the Information which the nota bena! tained, for that afternoon, was indeed, to use my friend's e si. hi, an unlucky one 1 We had scarcely started on our trip, we were accosted by a female, who requested we would direct her to Hackney. Judge my surprise, when I found myself forcibly nulled away from the astonished female, before I had time to give her a reply. " Come away,'' exclaimed Barnard, as he grasped my arm; " would you bting more troubles upon us ?" " What harm," enquired I, " can possibly arise from speaking to that female ?" " What harm ?" replied he, " what harm ?— why, Ill- luck, to be sure j didn't you observe how intolerably she squinted ?" Whilst meditating on the means « , f avertiug the foreboded trou- bles, that awaited us, we found ourselves nearly under a ladder placed in front of the pavement, during some repairs. Barnard" was not content with retreating, but again lorced me along with hi. n: unfortunately it was " out of the frying- pan into the fire;" lor, in stepping off tbe curb, in order to pass ou the lucky side of the ladder, I received a kick on the side of my head from the heel of a thick bob- nailed shoe, which encased the broad foot of a stout, six- foot Hibernian, who was in the act of descending for a fresh supply of mortar. " I thought something would happen," exclaimed Barnard- " this all comes through our meeting that unlucky woman. My head ached greatly from the effacts of the blow, and I expressed a wish to discontinue the walk, particularly as a shower of rain had commenced, and neither of us had au umbrella with us. " Go back ! iudeed I" cried Barnard, " worse and worse;— go back I uot I ; why, mao, we should not hav « any luck for a month to come 5 Come along,'' asid he, " I know a near cut across the fields." We hastened onward, consoling eacll other on the prospect before us - the rain, by this time falling, as the old song says :— ' " In deluge showers." At length we found ourselves in the middle of a field, and nearly up to our knees iu mud. " Pray," said I, ( beseechingly),- pray let us go back," tor I dreaded the worst was yet to come. Barnard however, vvas inflexible! " never,'' said he, " will I turn back* unless, indeed, lbs water reaches my chin." Finding that it was Impossible to persuade my friend against his will, 1 yielded to necessity ; and, at length, after receiving a thorough drenchW — the forerunner of a violent cold,— and losing a shoe in the cliv we arrived at the house of the oracle In time te learn that he had' just started for t ) wn, to give his professional advice to an elderlv maiden lady, who had, that day, honoured him with a communi- cation by jSoat. We returned home in a cab; Barnard assuring me all the wav that our troubles were occasioned by my imprudence ; although he felt convinced, by tiie itching of his foot in the morning, that he should tread on strange ground before the day was over VOYAGE TO INDIA.— Among a party, who were taking their wine atter dinner, the subject of conversation happened to be the voyage to India^ upon which a few glasses of Cape wlue were ha. ded round. All the guests spoke in high praise of its ex. ui. ite fi. vour, and wi. he. l much for a second taste of It. Finding this to be out of the qu. stlon, a wit observed, '• W^ ll, since we ean't double the Cape, we may as well go bank to Madeira." Friends are like shadows, according to the point tbe » « » ls at • o turn they. THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLES' POLICE © A55ETTE. dFrastn^ nta for t& e ( Curious RISMA'N'K* " v fins BIBLE.—- The Bible contains 3,566,489 \ r\-- . .- oiU, 6y7 words— 31, J7. i verses— 1,189 chapters— 66 books. The word " and" oecurs 46,227 times— 44 Lord," 1815—" reve- 1 Tend" only once, and that in the 111th Psalm. The 27th verse I of the 7th chapter of Ezra, contains the alphabet— the 19th chap- ter of the Second Book of Kings, and the 37th chapter of laalah are alike. The first man recorded as buried in a coffin was Joseph, | 50th chapter of Genesis and 26th verse. No where but in the lst chapter, 2nd Timothy, Is the name " grandmother" mentioned. There is no name or word of more than six syllables in the Holy Bible. CHINBSE NOTION ® F ENGLAND.— A Chinese treatise on geo- graphy contains the following description of England?—" The kingdom of the Vingkeihle ( English) is a dependent or tributary state of holan ( Holland). Their garments, and manners in eat- ing and drinking, are the same. The males use much cloth, aud like to drink wine. The females, before marriage, bind the waist, being desirous to look slender. Their hair hangs in curls over their necks; they use a short garment and petticoats, but dress in a larger cloth when they go out. They take snuff out of boxes made of gold and threads." This is a fit parallel to the account giv^ n of our country by the Greek monk, Malalus, in the Paschal CArom'c/ e— 44 Britain is a city built by Claudius Cse . ar on the bor- ders of the ocean P* STANZAS. I fear not when rude tempests roar, A*. d mighty billows lash the shore j The comet in its headlong chase, Hath a viven path to trace ; The lightning's glare, deep thunders roll, Yet one great spirit guides the whole. I weep not when a kindred dear, Lies pale within the coffin drear; The sun fades slowly down the west, Yet comes at noon in splendour drest, And death is but a gloomy night, • That leads to God and morning bright. I sigh not for a f uture day, The while t » ;. e present flies away ;— Oh! no, J watch time's dwindling glass, And drain the moments as they pass ; I K1iow that life is on the stream, Itnd have no time to sigh and dream. J. ORTON. An Irishman telling a long story about his voyage to England, said : " Sure the first bit of mate I ate when 1 came to England, was a roast taty, boiled in the Dutch oven. Another being in conversation on the subject of ill- ess, asserted, that he knew what illness was well enough, for his wife vvas once so ill that she laid upon the broad of her back for six weeks in the month of " May, speechless, and could say nothing but " water ! water! water J" Another passing an eulogium on " his own dear country," exclaimed with the greatest emphasis, ** the flower of England is Ireland Another talking of the time that he went to school, was asked to repeat something that he there Jearr. t, when he said with his usual conceit: " Twenty- four grains one pennyweight ; twenty penny weights one ounce, Apothecary's measure ALL ALONE. WRITTEN BY A. KYNB* What tragic tears bedew the eye ! What deaths we suffe;- « re we die! Our broken friendship's we deplore, And loves of youth t hat are no- more.'* Coree, aing my lute, thy minstrelsy, May cheer my heart, now dead to joy, May sooth it with soft sympathy; But never all its grltif. destroy; " For death has severed ( Tielast link, Of frienship's soul connecting zone, And left mr; now to pine and think, I'm in the world left lorn and lone. All alone. Love is the herald of desire, And for. her interest sohly glows ; But friendship's is a nobler ( ire. Since, for another's weal it flows. Without its vi. rorating heat, The mind sits torpid on her throne j And dead to feeling s social beat, She dwells ' midst cluoa dark and lone. All alone. Ah; few can paint, though deep they feel u hit.' lis to lose a taHlitul friend; Mh » > i ill the tear, and sigh reveal, What painful throes the bosom rend. Tis thus in anguish pines my soul, Thi>,' t mourn, her dearest treasure gone j Tims sad she bears i ffliotionN scowl, Now I am friendless and alone. All alone. Oh! It vvas siveet, amidst, my care, To meet with friends, whose soothing Voice, Far from the breast, could chine despair. And bid its inmost ore rejoice. But now to fate's despite a prey, And pity breathes no soothing tone; I listless linger through the day, And midst the world seem lost and lone. All alone. Then give m. e fancy's dreamy hour, When fiftys long fl nvn resume their guiae, And friends revive with pristine pavv'r, Who gave to life its energies. Then shall I lose all sad regret. Nor think all j y far ever fl > wn ; And in the gulling hour forget, That I am friendless and alone. Ail alone. An Irishman giving an account of a quarrel he had with another, said, il By Jaaus, an' 1 had nothing in my hand but my fist, an' the first blow I hit him I missed him." A party of m » n regaling themselves, and not using the best of language, an Irishman hearing them, bawled out, " Remember that God Almighty see* all that you are saying" An Irishwoman talking of her child, said : " Sure an' it is full two years old, ah' if it was not for the ill- ness he had he would have been older." When the Irish union was effected, Sir Jol. n Par* health was frequently drank in genteel com- es. Being one day at a convivial party, he ob, B jocularly, that by the union he had lost his bread 1, er. > k Ah, my dear sir,'' observed a gentleman, ) mind, for it's amply made up to you in toasts arson preaching on the depravity of the age," hat little children who could " neither speak nor / were to be seen running about the streets cursing \ swearing * « GOME, LOVE, AND ROAM." A BALLAD— BY R. T. GRANNELL. Come, love, and roam among the lillls, And through the meadows gay ; And sit anear the murm'ring rills, While Sol illumes the day. Come, love, & c. Tis sweet to view the featlier'd race Descend amid the rye ; How pleasing, too, their flight to trace, Toward the mild blue sky. Come, love, '& c. Then, dearest, haste with me away, . To yon lov'd mossy dell; Within my breast thou hast the sway, Which this heart e'er shall tell. Come, love, & c. UTILITY OF TOADS IN GARDENS.— Practical men have been long aware that toads live chiefly on insects, particularly beetles. Some persons have even made It a point to place them on their hot beds, for the purpose of destroying Wood- lice, earwigs, & o. Mr. Clayton, of Hull, au ingenious horticulturist, Who has long employed toads as guardians of his melon altd cucumber frames, fully corroborates all that has been said respecting their usefulness In such situations, and is so attentive to them, that, when they have cleared his beds of Insects, and he finds them uneasy In their confinement, he actually feeds them, in order to keep them there, by giving them the different insects which are considered noxlout in gardens, all of which they devour, even slugs are eaten by them. Thus we see that tlds despised reptile is a beneficial as- sistant to the gardener, A GREAT CALF. " Harry, I cannot think,'' says Dick, " What makes my ancles look so thick," 41 You do not recollect," said Harry, 44 What a great calf they have to carry." THE JEWS.— Oliver Cromwell was favourable to the stay of the Jews in England, In his time. It is a fact, not generally known, that the Jews presented a petition to 44 The Lord Protector of the Commonwealth,'* praying his Highness to grant them St. Paul's Cathedral for a Synagogue. A LIVINO MAP.— The Prince of Rohilchund, once demanded of the Rajah of Sirinagur, an account of his revenues, and a chart of the country, as his collections had fallen very short. The Rajah being then at court, repaired to the presence the following day, and la obediencn to the commands hi received, presented a true statement of his finances; and, for the chart of the country, he humourously introduced a lean camel,. saying 5— u Th s is a faith- ful picture of the territory I posses ; up and down, and very poor." The prince smiled at tha ingenuity of the thought, and told him, that from the revenue of tha con . try, realized wilh so much labour, and in amount so small, he had little to demand, and immediately remitted half of tha annual collection. fflramatit t& alt*.— No. 14. WOMAN'S LOVE, OR, KATE WYNSLEY, THE COTTAGE GIRL. { Founded on ihe Drama of that name, as performed at the Moydt i Victor, a Theatre*) IN one of the loveliest parts of Gloucestershire stood, a f* w years since, the comfortable farm- house of Hugh Wynsley, a yeoman of some respectability, and withal a man that was looked up to by the whole neighbourhood, bolh on acGohrit tif the fair proportion of wealth he was said to be possessed tif, ahd the strict honour which had marked every part cf h'U life. Hugh Wynsley had lived a bachelor all his days, but that circum- stance appeared to have Very little effect upon his cheerinlness or good - nature, for tie was resolved to be happy under all chances and changes ; aud in order to secure for himself a companion to brighten his solitary hours, he took beneath his roof th* orphan daughter of his brother, and who he Intended to bring Up In the expectation of inheriting his property, whenever the pfcribd should arrive for his departure from this world to anotheir. Kate Wes- ley, the young female of whom w< e speak, was indeed all that the good yeoman cd'ald IVCfig bf desire: her ifilnd and disposition were excellent; and, for beauty, there were few maidens in that happy district Who could be said to rival her. Up to her seventeenth year her life was pased in uninterrupted peace and serenity; but, at that period, an incident occurred that appeared to be of some moment in that quiet aud secluded neigh- bourhood : this was the arrival of a yjur. g gentleman named Wil- fred Clitheroe, who took a lodging at the house of Hugh Wynsley, and naturally enough falling desperately in loVe with Kate, Was overjoyed at speedily making the discovery that his hopes were not without a fair chance of being realized. It is not, however, oar purpose to enter into anjr lengthened description of th « dr wooing, and having merely alluded to it, we shall now suffer two years to elapse, at the end of which period Wilford Clitheroe Wis still an inmate of the old man's cotfge, and bad become the envy of a soore of dying swains, who had hoped one dsy or other to call the cottage girl their own In fact, tiny were secretly married a few mouths after the yoilng man took up his abode there, but family reasons compelled him to keep the citcdmstance quiet for the pre- sent, and thus Kate found herself an ol ject of Cehuire among them, who, at one time, had regarded her as a paragon of virtue. Still, however, she kept the secret In spite of the ill- natured mur- murs that began to get afloat in consequence of their being seen m frequently together; and some went even so far as to whisper » hat Kate had given birth to a child, which had been conveyed away nobody knew wl^ re. This was, indeed, true enough,— and bitter y did the young mother deplore the necessity which compelled her to part from her infant immediately after its birth. Yet her ancle was the last to suspect what had taken place ; for, in consequence of his extreme partiality for Kate, nobody ventured to hint at a rumour that would be sure to bring dowa his fiercest Wrath upon those w 10 uttered a word Against the ho our of his favourite. At length, Baldwin of ihe Burn, Who had long nought the hand of Kate, began to think how he might best revenge himself tor the rejection of his suit; and taking the first opportunity that, offered, he mentioned a lew of the reports that had b* eu spread about, and even hinted that Wilford Clitheroe ought no longer t < remain in a hou- e Where his presence had given ris* to so many unfavourable rumours. Hugh Wynslcy heard him With tollable patience, but. his a -. ger kindled as Baldwin came to an end, and with m. ire wrath than usual, said— 44 It, appears to me, sir, that all this idle nonsense } ou have been telling me has been the result of sheer eavy and malice. You have been rejected by Kate, and overflowing with malignity, you thus endeavour to ruiu her in the estimation of the only friend she has in the World." 44 You are determined, then,'* exclaimed Baldwin, " nott- Jbe- lieve what is manifest to eveiyboriy else ? ' *• I care not for what any one says," replied the old man, reso- lutely; *' the fcirl is virtuous— and I, at least, am not to be set against her by anything that a parcel of i. l- natured people way choose to say.'' — 44But you must allow," returned Baldwin, 44 that they are in each other's company a great deal more frequently than they oujiht to be." 41 And what harm is there in that?'' demanded the uncle ; 44 the young folks love each other I dare nay— and what has anybody to do with that?" 44 Oh! i othing certainly " replied the other; " but no one seems to know anything about this Wi. ford Protheroe , and'hir- anything y. m can ted, h>? may bj some won hi ess adventurer that is seeking the ruin ol the girl he professes lo iuve." ". This is sheer jealousy on your p'irt, Baldwin ;" exclaimed t! » • old man. 44 ' f he person pu haVe been speaking of was a si ran ; e to be sure when he first came to live with u « , but two years' have served to make us tolerably well acquainted ; and I can ihor* fore answer for jr., that lie Is not the sort of person you represent." 41 But, perhaps he may hrve been acting the > yt. oudte all this while, to deceive you." 44 Upon my word, Baldwin,, y u g: ve me much credit for « ag « - ci'y," exclaimed the old man, sharp y. 41 Yet, for all that, I can assure you, that I watched him narrowly at first; and When I found' him to be honourable in his every action. It was high fine, I thi'tk, to shake off . ill lurther susp'clon: at any r. » e, I am satis- fied \ v th him. and It will be no easy matter, i tail tell you, to in- jur « h'un in n y estimation.* 41 Well,*' said lialdwin, " if ai- jfthlng coiiies of this, of course y > a will have no one biVt ^. nirAelf to blame for It." 44 S'life!" " xclaimed the old man, " how the fellow talks ! But-, ru- tell yjtt;' w- iatijK !•• » ,- Sir^ y . u have been reacted Kate, and now, our of pitiful revenge, you would set me agaiust both h « r and the- young man." 41A d perhaps it vVbuldti'l take me Vety long to do that,'' replied Bahw. ti, 44 it I was to tell y. m of a report that has just been spread through the neighbourhoDii.'' •' What, another of their ill- natured reports, eh?" cried Hugh Wytislcy: ' 4 but, never mind; outwuh it, man, and let me know the worst of what people have taken it into their heads to si. y '' 44 The stoiy wants confirming before I tell it you," replied Bald- win. 44 Ho- vever, I am now going to Gloucester to make inquiries; and should it prove that matters have gong as fvf as I suspect, it will be my.- ditty to Inform y m of it, ssVen though it may be the means of forever depriving her of your love. So, good lye to you, Master Wy isley,— and when I return again in a few hours, it may be with new* that will rather surprise you.'* With all the old.' man's partiality for Kate, he could uot help feeling uneasy at the words of the person who had just left- him. Not t'- iat he was w! ak enodgh to field the lean Credence to the spiteful reports that had been raised, but. he Was vexed that she, whom lie loved, had become the subject of calumny, and he there- fore determined to question her upon the * ttair, and thus learn from her own lips whether Clitheroe had spoken to her upon the subject < f love. At any rate, he lelt certain that she would not deceive him, arid thus he hbp.- d to silence the malevolence that had been raised up against lrer. Whilst he was occupied in these reflections* Kite and her hus- band were occupied in a conversation, in the course of Which, she took an opportunity to urge the necessity for a speedy declaration of their marriage. This, however, she did contiuuuus y, and in such a w > y, an to leave him at liberty to keep the secret a little longer, if | rudence should absolutely require it. 441 would not for worlds,' shw said, 4> persuade you, dear Wil- ford, to no that which w. juld bring upon you the consequences you dread : for two years I have ktpt the secret; and fthoulu it be four wish, I will never again advert to this subject till you can, without danger lo yddr « elf> openly acknowledge me as your wife." " Yet a little longer, K- Ue^" returned her husband; 41 and I hope all impediments will be removed My uncle, the Earl of Castle- date— whose heir I am— would utterly cast me otf were he to know that I am married to one, who he would consider far beneath me. By the last accounts from India, however, it was reported that he had been seized with a mortal sickness, and it- is likely the next communication I receiVe w 11 anuoUuce liis death. Then I may proudly acknowledge fnix for my wife in the face of the wiiole world, and thus y<> u Will be re ivved from the anxieties you have endured with so much fortitude." 411 could endure all without complaining," she replied; 44 but people ROW begin to report evil things against me, and by their cold looks when they pass me, I can but too plainly see that I am regarded as one who has fallen into the lowest diptof Shahifeand degradation. This, I ovVtt, as hlortlfied me; and happy shall I be when ihis odium ean be safely removed." " And removed it shall be ere long,'' answered Clitheroe ; 44 per- haps a few days will raise me to rank and'affluence, and then will we utterly confound those whose envy has Inflicted this wrong upon you In the meantime., you are htill in the lull possession ot your uncle's regard ; and that alone will maintain you agalmjt the envenomed shaft of paltry malies.'* ^ 4 My unci" i* IhdeCd filoSt kind to me," replied Kate; 44 but these reports may reach his ears, and should he give credit to them, even he would turn from ine with loathing and disgust." 44 Your uncle would not condemn wiihout first of all satisfying himself upon the subject," answered Cdtheroe; 44 besides, ilje secret will not require to be kept much longer, and then I i « ay openly acknowledge you before the whole world.'' 44 Oh!" replied Kate ; 44 how anxiously do I look forward to that moment when these idle rumours wilt be dissipated. Then may I hope to see my child, whose existence we have been obliged to conceal, lest We should be- forced Jilto making a discovery of our secret union.'' 44 VotirJ6 lias, indeed, been a heavy trial," answered the husband; 44 but your meekness and submission have won my admiration, and never shall I forget the kindness that has prompted you to make so great a sacrifice. So, cheer tlive, my good Kate, and forget your present troubles in the reflections that a brighter destiny is about to dawn upoij us." Btfore our heroins could repl*, they # ere Intmdpted bf the arrival of a messenger f; cm an adjacent inn, with news that a gentleman llad just arrived there who desired to see Mr. Wilford Ctitheroe, on business of the utmost importance. This intelli gence vvas as startling as it had been expected; but after a little consideration, Wilford determined to keep the appointment; and having entreated Kate to keep up her spirits, he followed the messenger to ascertain the business which had brought him iuto the neighbourhood- It was not easy for him, however, to regard with apathy an affair that vvas involved in such mystery, for her a arm had been excited, and, in the agony of her terrors, she believed that some fearful peril was about to befat him, and that he would become the victim of an artful device that had been laid to entrap him. It happened too, that he was absent much longer than had been mticipated ; after waiting two or three hours lor his return, she vvas about to leave the house in search of him when her uncle made his appear- ance before her. 4* Why, how now, Kate!'' he exclaimed; 44 why do I so often find you in tears of late, a » if something or other had happened to make you unhappy." 441 am uot unhappy," she replied; 44but my spirits have cer- tainly been depressed fur some time past, though I can scarcely give any reason for it." 44 And yet there must be a cause for it. my love," answered Mr. Wynsley, kindly; 44 nay, I have for some time wished to speak to you upon this subjept, tor the neighbours are Ill- natured enough to whisper stories concerning you that ought to b « immediately eontrad cted, lest they should appear to be confirmed by your ? lleuce." 44 And what say they of me, dear uncle (" asked Kate, with anx- iety, that she ceuld not suppress. „ • 4 That you have lately been seen a great deal with otar lodger, Mr. Clltheroe,*' answered the old gentleman. " But, do they discover anything wrong In thatf* " Why, thoy say It is hardly prudent, considering the difference between your stations in life,'' replied her uncle. 44 Mr. Clitheroe is said to belong to a very high station; and, eonsequently, it Is itardly likely ke intends t, o make you his Wife." 44 THey wrong liim most foully," cried Kate, 14 who uttered a word to the dishonour of the person | eu have named.'' 441 can readity belifve they d » ,'' replied Wynsley; 44 Jet, for all that I am anxious to hear from j^ urself whether lie has spoken on the subject of marriage i'* This wag a perplexing question, which Kate knew not h « w to an » Wer j she blusned deeply, and was about to stammer out a con fused reply, when a number of the villagers, headed by Baldwin of the Burn, were seen advancing towards the house. The unusual occurrence of so many persons meeting together created some sur- prise in the mind of Hugh Wynsley; but all doubt was imme- diate!^ removed by Baldwin* who exclaimed, with great exulta- tlonj— , 44 So, this mystery lias been cleared up at last,— and th* virtuous, discreet Kate, Is, after all, no better tSan Ker neighbours 1" " I'll tell you what it is, Baldwin,'' retorted the old than, aln- grily; 41 you have come, I suppose, with 6ome more of your tittle- tattle against the honour and goo 1 name of my niece. But. be- ware what you say, sirrah; for IF one word is uttered withoat proof, I'll so maul you wilh this cudgel, that you shall never again dare to take away the character of a virtuous srirl.'* 44 Well," exclnime 1 the rejected lover, ,4 thire's no occasion for me to get Into a quarrel, but the truth is certain, things were said about Kate and Mr. Clitheroe, and so to bring the matter te an end, I have been over to Gloucester, where the rurnoar has been con- firmed.'* • 4 What rtimoiir do fou *, pcak of?'' demanded Hugh Wynsle^. 44That Kate has had a child— and ( Hat tin WilfoM Clitheroe is the father of It." 44 Villain!' exclaimed the uncle: " this Is som^ great lie in fe- venge for your rejection:" and then addressing himself to Kate, who had sunk overpoweredwl h shame and confucion, into a » hair, he said, entreatlng'y:— 44 Come, my niece— you have heard the full report that has been raised to four prejudice; they would cast Jiu down with dishonour to the very earth, yet you have only to speak one ivord and your character is rescued from ' heir vile suspicions. Deny it, Kate ; and remove from ' y h^ art this h? avy. weary load." 4> Alas!" groaned the unhappy girl, 441 can d* ny nothing.'* 14 What! are you then. Indeed, guilty and havi I staid to hear you confess your ewi shameful downfall !'* 44 Let me implore you not to judge me too harshly." cried Kate, wildly; 41 there Is a t ecret that I dnre not dlvnlge at present; but the time m>< y not be far distant wh » n my chiracter shall be cleared from the odium that has fallen on it." 44 Girl l" exclaimed the old man. 44 you have acknowledged that Baldwin hat not, id this instailce, r& ised a false feport against you ; there is a living evidence of your shame, a d y* t you refuse to give an explanation that you « ay would release fou fr& m re proach." 44 The truth is," Interposed Baldwin. " That tht cannot dety It; for I hive seen the infant, and learnt ' he Whole story from the per- son that has got charge of it.'' '' ftate!* exclaimed the old man 44 much as I hav* loved you, this news has completely tamed my heart -, and, from this moment, I cast you otf for ever I Degraded and fallen you must quit mj house never to return to it again " 44 Alasi" cried the weeping girl, 44 this torture is worse- far worse than death! I am condemned bf all, arid ih- re is not one to support me Under the trying afflictions that boWs my spirit to the very earth.'' 44 Yes, dear Kate, ' e- claimed Clitheroe, Who at that nv- ment rushed forward to take her to his arms—" there is one who wi 1 not abandon f- ii in such a moment as ' fels. You look amazed," he continued, glancing round upon the a « « euib'y ; 44 but, perhaps, you will feel more charitably disposed towards this female, when you learn that sh « is my wife." 44 Your wife!' said Hugh Wynsl# y, with joyful surprise. 44 Aye!" he replied; 41 more than twelve month* since W* were secretly united, because family circumstances prevented n. y then acknowledging her as my bride I have, however, just heard from a messenger that my uncle is dead> and that I have succeeded to his title and estates, » o that there Is no longer any occasion for se- cresy, and thus so I proclaim in - he preser- ce of all here assembled, that- the woman who you h- « ve vilified Is my wife.'' 44 Pardon me, dear Kate.' exclaimed her uncle, " for having list- ened to tn* Idle reprirU of those who envied vour fair fame. But now all h is been explained, and with joy 1 cah once more take you to mj heart and call < » n liraven to Ideas j'vat union With tliu lt. tp- p ness which rewards only ths good." 14 Yet then.- fs one drawback that I ; Imost fear to n « urn\ M cTled Wiliord Clitheroe. 44 It is necessary, it appears, that I* kmld go immediate'y to India, for the purpose « f taking po » session of < « ome large estates, wh eh lie In that distant part of our empire. '' h is * temporn'y sepa'stio'a AV. I1 be necessaiy, though I h ipe It wi- 1. not be for any long time.'' 44 And cannot I go wilh you, Wilford!" asked his wife, with trembling anxiety. I fear it will be in possible," replied Clitheroe ; 4< for It Is in- dispensable that, we keep ortf marriage secret a Utile vvh'le looger from certain parties, who- Wish £< J see U> E united lo >. la- Y f rank rtud Fortune. On mj rettirn, however, ih> re Will nO Longer be a j hairier in the Way, and wHtortt fear et the consequences, I can boidiy introduce you as my Wife.'' 44 Wiifard,','. said our heroine; 44 the thought of a separation Is w. » rse to me than death. I feel th. it it is impossible to and ore it.; and. therefore, let - me. entreat; < srpie# loi » to follow In another ship, so lit it wa may meet shortly alter fdur arrival in Iudta." 4" It ' hall be so/' exclaimed Clitheroe; 44 S » now as a carriage Is Waiting for me at the Inn, I will take my leave without Unnecessa- rily prolonging this painful adieu. F rt- well. drar Kate » and may ev* ty happiness attend you during the ptifiod tint intervene* bt- tW'Xi. tills time and our next meeting," Wilferd now tore Idmself away from the embrace ofhis sorrowing wife; and bidding a hasty farewell to Hugh Wy is t y, he took his ep irfnre fro « i the olnce with as little delay as possible . Wi'hin a hw days aft « r th s, Kale embarked OH board a vessel ih it was bound for India i but scarcely lud a week elapsed flrem that, period, When nevVs arrived that the ship vvas lost in a dreadful storm off the coast ot France, and til a' every'soul on board had perished. * * * We must now pass over an interval of six years ; in ihe course of wh ch time, Wiiford Clith eroe. or rather the Evrl of C* stleton, as We must now call him, had returned to fflgland, and settled himself in the noble country seat of his ancestors. The melant lioly tate ot his W fe had made a deep and lasting impression upon h'm, and so severely did he feel the blow which htd thus destroyed his hippjnes. v that a drendtul Illness succeeded, during a part ol W- ikh it was exoected th it he could not survive. Attended, how- ever, by the young female to whom it hid been proposed he should be married previously to his meeting with Kate Wynslt- y, he at b- ngih began slowly ' o recover from the dangerous malady with Wiiich he had been afflicted. Stilt all his thoughts continued to be listed upon her Whose sad fate he so deeply regretted, and for some K- t e he remained inconsolable; but, ttt length, the gratitude he felt towards the female who had quitted all the enj finents of life to attend upon him in the hiur of his sickn- ss, b gau to ripen into a more tender feeling; and in ill ™ end, he offered to share wl'h her his rank and ortuise. ' f* Iie proposition was nut rejected; and, after a somewhat long courtship ihjy were married But tiie Edrl of Oantlrtou Could not forget poor Kate, iu spite of the more aristocratic wile to whom he Was noW united; nor could the countess fail to ob erve that he still cherished the memory of his first Wife. This was a sore subject to li r, aud » ispecl « 4 « y as tht* little Jessie was now brought home, and became th* chief " bjectoi his father's love. In fact, the counters jsrew peevish at the slight she imagined was put upon her; and iu the vexation of her heart, • he would olteu tell the child thit * he was the offspring of a cot- tage jjt'ri, hoping by this liieana to spoil her temper, and thus de- prive ker of Bditie portion of father's ioVe. Soon after this a governess WAS engaged to superintend tie education ot little Jesse, and through her means the couuteas hoped to complete the plan . he had formed. 1 his governess, h jwever, was no other than Kate; who, having escaped from fh'! pwreck, had been thrown Into a French prison, and detained there till the termination of the wxr On her return to England, hoWever, she could hear nothhig of Wilford Clitheroe, in consequence of His having Some to Ills title, and ail those who she had left in her native village, were either dead or dlsperaed j aud, consequent y, she eould obtain no Intelligence either of her husband or ih; d. Finding herself thiis po « r and triendlesn, she was compelled to resort to some means for a subsistence, and ap- p y'ng for a situation as a governess, she happened to engage her- aell in the family of ihe Earl of Custieton; where, unconsciously, she'Was to become ths instructress ol her own daughter. On lier arrival at ihe mansion, the ? arl happened to be out shooting, and the coUdttfss "$ as also just about to leave th? place for the purpose of joining some friends on a Water excursion to some neighbouring ruins. She, h iwever, remained sufficiently long to give a few general directions concerning Jessie, and to In- troduce th. » governess to her future pupil. When they were ieft alone, Kate— or Mrs. Grtrham, as she for ihe present called herself— began to question the child upou va- j rious subjects, and grrat washer surprise, at discovering lhat, in- i stead of a froWard, petlhh temper, little J « « sle possessed a mind of mote than ordinary capacity, and that her anger was roused when she heard disparaging Words spoken cf her mother, who was usually mentioned in th- earl's absence as rhe cottage $ lrl, who he had foolishly married in the thoughtless days of ttis youth. Poor Kate longed to press the child to her bosom, for the name re. minded her ot her own Infant, from whom she had been separated so many years. Little did she at that moment think that, in her interesting pupil, she thould behold her own daughter I he was about leavia* the gallery for that ptifpose when footsteps where heard approaehing near the only door that gave admittance to the apartment, apd thus all hope of Immediate eseape were utterly destroyed. Under these circumstances she covered her head With a Ml, and proceeding to' the further part of the gallery, Imped to elude ebsartatlort. But in this she Was mistaken, for the earl had come expressly to deft her; and as he approached the place to which she had retreated, h « , after an apology for his ap- parent rudeness, entreated to be Informed ffom whom she had re- ceived the ring which he had just taken from the fiager of his daughter Jessie. The well- remembered tones cofiViflic^ d Kate that • he wai not mistaken In the identity of the earl with her husband ; 2nd It wai some little time ere she could venture to reply. At length, however, disguising her voice as much as possible, sfte In- formed him that she had been wrecked In the same vessel that contained the possessor of the ring he spoke of; that they were the only persons who had escaped; and, that having lauded on the coast, they had been made prisoners, and had shared together the same dungeon. In answer to his further Inquiries, she said that her companion had died in prison, and as a last bequest, had be- stowed upon her the rl. ig *' s a memorial of their friendship and fellow autlerings. It was a hard trial for Kate to relate this ficti- tious narrative; but she knew the earl's happiness depended upon his being kept in Ignorance of his second marriage having taken place during the lifetime of his first wife. But a rrielancholy elreumstan. ee occurred, which rendered all fur- ther secreijr unnecessary; for tKe boat in which the countess had gone to visit the ruins had beitfl dpfl^ t, a$ d the unfortunate lady met a premature death In the midst ot tk4 gaiety she had so joy- fully anticipated. On perceiving the body as It was brought Into the gallerf, Kate uttered a scream that attracted the Immediate attention of the earl ; and at that moment of mourning and sor- row, hs recognised the wife of his fimt love, aad who he had long since considered as dead. LLOYD'S LIST OF POPULAR WOHKS SIXTY- FIVE HUMOUROUS KNGRAVIN6S BY AN EMINENT AFTIST, AND TEN NEW COMIC SONGS ( BY f REST) FOH ONE PENNY!.! ! " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES GALLELY OF COMICALITIES," CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING OMGttlAL COMIC S0 » G3# WRITTEN EXPRESSLY J OR THS WORE:— The Contented Man. A Private Still. Happy Land— a Sad Lot. Poor Jack— Please Re- Mem- ber Jaek. John Deif-* ln fils Cups. Hard- Up ; of, thockiflg Ex- tremities. My Sarah and Me. Domestic Esesmny. Brandy and Salt. Population; or, It's allowteff to the Family Olntatesrtw ® !) « atm. HAVMARKEt.— The ile* petite comedy called Foreign dffnrs, has been played with success since our- last Mficreaily has also, in conjunction rtitb Mr. Wallack, drawn excellen' houses. Great preparations are making for Sheridan Knowles' new phiy, in which Mr. C. Kean, Miss Ellen Tree, aud the whole strength of the com- pany will appear. STRAPIB.— VVe havfe nothing new to notice sincf our last. The attraction of the different excellent pieces continues unabated, and tllg h'n's* is well attended every eveniug. OLYMPIC.— We are sorry to say that the ptifille has not responded to the appeal made to them in I ehalf of the dramatic portion ot the late Amphitheatre, in the generous m& Mier we at first amicip'tateil it would have done, a circumstance whicli very much - urprises us, considering tbe eacelleuc. of the entertainments pro vided, which have heeil able to compete with most of tbe minor theatres. Mr. J. Sloan has excited muoh laughter by his delineation of the Irishman, in the new fares of Htsmerism. Mr. C. Oiiloti, although a very clever actor in many character.", dkl not I> 1 ase as Bar- tiaby Rudge at this theatre. It is a part not at all suited to him ; and alter Mrs. Keeley, Mrs Homier, & c., it was, to say the lea- t of it, a bold and impolitic attempt nil the part o' Mr. Dillon, SIM. F. R's WELLS.— WFC have not space this week to give a deiall of the plot of the veteran Moncrieff's new grand aquatic ilrantd, with real water, called Gisellei or, the Night Dancers, which has been prodtired with extraordinary splendour at this theatfe. it has made a tremeudoti. hit, and promises to ilia ntain a long and triumphant career. PAVILION.— Susan Hoi let) at this theatre is a very suc- cessful production, excellently got up. aud well played throughout. Miss Adelaide Cooke, HS the heroine, did ample justice to the part, and in some passages reached a degiee of pathos and dramatic skill, which entitle her to the highest credit. Tie othi- r performers all do ample justice lo ti e parts allotted to them. The Dark I ." ill) of Ihe H ill, Country Gi'ls in London, wilh the Dell Rmgers, continue as atti active as ever. VICTORIA. — An entire change of performance has taken place since our lust at this most successful esta- hlijhmeat, and the wh » le of ihe pieces are of the first- rate quality. The I), eels and Daings of the Dark ffunse ; or. Simple Sue of Billingsgate, is one of those impressive dramas fur which this theatre has been so celebrated during the able management . f Mr. Osbaldiston aud nightly has elicited most rapturous applause. S'rrrt 1' iilly uf fftrse ydowi,; » r, Poor Joe the Marine, it one of the most interesting nautical pieces we have seen for some lime. The theatre l- as he n erovvded every even- ing. Various novelties are, we understand, iu active preparation. PURHEV. — This house, with Ducrow's equestrian c- mpany, is uncomfortably crowded every evening, a circumstance at which we feel much gratified, ilnteppa has continued to be tbe principal favourite. GRAtnsr. NI> THEATRE.— Mr. Neale has had HO reason to complain of a want of patronage since he has under- taken the management of this theatre; and from the varied nature of the performance, and the excellence of the company, we do not wonder at it. From the nature of the novelties that are iu preparation, we augur an increase of support, and shall uot fail to give due notiee of them. AND ALSO TUB ROTIOWINO GRAPHIC SKRTCHKS: — The Maid of the Milt.— A Gemr » l Ktilng.— Phy. ical Force.— Bringing Hllo too ( Two).— A Bi » ck Fast.— Ladies of the Court.— HI. Nlnd l « on tie Sack.— Settles « [ c] Count; Double Entry.— Friar Bacon.— Giving Hinrtelf ( H) ltlri.— Contracting an Acquaint, ance.— A Heavy* well,— A Good Bite.— Hodge's Best.— S.- dan - t. ry Occupation.— Currant Jam ; a friendly Sqjleexe,— A Neat Turn- out.— A Votary of the Nine.— TaliHig the Pltdge.- Warlike Guise ( Gnyi).— Food for Reflection.— Ceiling Whiclrf; a Bel- frey. — A Promising ChHd.— A Boy In a Fit.— Civing up the Gbott — Cabriolet Soel. ty.— Plea. ures of " Fancy."— Bt, t London Porter. — A Back Settler.— Going by the Post j General lJillrery.— Cone of Age.— Cutting Him to the Quick.— Breaking Cover.'— Sauce- ( Source), of the Nlggef ( Niger).— A Dey' » Pismire.- - A Sad Pliglte. — A Belfy Full of Grapes.— The Chantelet, One.— A Private Box. - Taken in A[ r] reit. — The Lively Smack; Looking Out tor Squall..— Hebrew Melodies.— A Funny Pair.— A Good Calling — A Shocking Stick.—' The Pot. b .7.— Summnt Short.— Detachmen of Cavalry.— I> eprlved ol the Use ot their Organ..— Neat as Im- ported.— A Free- Booter. Fancy Fair.— At a fitand- Sttlt. - An Un- happy Attachment— Coming It slap. « - « THE EMBELLISHMENTS HAVE BEEN ENGRAVED AT THE ENORMOUS EXPENSE OF 1,000 GUINEASUI In Weekly Numbers at Id. and Monthly Parti at 4d., the Neif and Highly In- erestinn Romance of KATHLEEN! OR, THE SECRET MARRIAGE. The First Number, containing Eight closely- printed ' . itr,. Two * pt. udid Engraiing. on neparatr paper, and a most Magnifi- cent Wrapper, presented GRATH with No. 54 of " TBI PENN » SUNDAT Tunis, AND PKOPLH'S PoLlCK HAZKTT « ." Now Publishing In Weekly Numbers at Id., Parts at 4d.( and Monthly EMILY FITZORMONDI OR, THE DESERTED ONE. With No. 1, 1* presented GRATIS, Two Magnificent Plate, and a Wrapper. Now Publishing, in Number, at One Fenny, aad Four- penny Monthly Part., ERNNESTINE DE LACY I OR, THE ROBBER'S FOUNDLING. With No. I, la presented GrtATii, Two Splendid Fngravtnga on separate pa « r. and a Wrapper. i" rlce Is. 61 . Elegantly Bound, containing 92 p- fps nf closely printed letter- pr- ss. illustrated with 12 * une Mr Engravings, MASTER HUMPHRIES' CLOCK. • B > » .'• Si A K K It. A MISCKLLANT OF SJSISINO INTKRSST. Price 3s., Neatly Bo. nd In cloth and lettered in gold, containing 3 » splrtted Engravings, and 20' 2 clo. ely printed p" g « s, HAINSFORTH'S CKLF. HRATFD ROMANCE ENTITLED A LEGEND OF THE TOWER OF LONDON. Price . Is. Hi., Nestty Bound In clolh and lettered, containing 252 pngea of closely printed matter. Illustrated with 32 Engravings, VALENTINE VAUX I OR TIIE TRICKS OF A VENTRILOQUIST. Price 3s., Neatly Bound in cloth and lettered, • orrlalnin* 188 pages of closely printed letter- press, illastrated with 25 Elegant Engraving*, the Nnutleal Romance of POOR LITTLE JACK. BT E. F. MARRIOTT. " There's a sweet lftHe cherub that sits un aloft, To keep watch for tne life ef Poor Jack." Complete in 18 Numbess at One Penny eaeh, or Neatly Bonid, priee Two Shillings. GALLANT TOM I OR, THE PERILS OF A SAILOR ASHORE AN9 AFLOAT. INTERSPERSED WITH ANECDOTES, TSUOH YARNS, ® TC. ON Wednesday, 28th July, 1841, ivas commenced. In WKKKLV NUMBERS at One Penny, and in' W » NTHI. Y PARTS at Sixpence euch, neatly printed In a novel size, ea^ h number con- sisting of Twelve Pages, and Splendidly Illustrated, ENIGMAS. 1.— Four fifths of a tree, three- fourths of a useful plant, a conso- nant, and a part ofa swine. 2.— A colour, and a receptacle for mud and water. 3.— A passage over water, and on « of the points of the compass. 4.— A river and a road over it. 5.— A place on the sea coast, a consonoat, and what we all do when we endeavour to do anything. Birmingham. J. WARREN. VI. I never moved, altho' I've run, This is indeed quite clear; I've been scar'ri by the sound of a gun, Vet so deaf that I could not hear. I've been in the deep, tho' often I've flown, Yet never had I any wings ; I was oHce in tbe ground wherein I've grown, And am used by queens aud kings. Altho' I've walked and often flown, I'm carried in the sheet; And tho' I've eyes was never yet known To take soft slumber sweet. H. M. VII. A letup Jl<* ned conversation then ensued between them upon va^ rioua subjects, which was, however, broken off by Jessie, whore attention was attracted by a ring w> rn by her neW governess ; the beauty of which called forth all her admiration, and which she begged as a gitt with childish earnestness. But the trinket was regarded by Kate at far beyond Its real price, as having been the gift of Wiifefd Cllthwoe, just previous to the last sad separation. Yet, atthe entieatiesCf the child, she permitted her tA wear It for the day, and in return was promised a sight of a portrait of her mamma, which was hanging in the picture gillefy. Lfpo i this the little girl ran joyfully from the room; but, in her Way, was met by tha earl, who had just returned from his shootiug excur sion, and whose eyes were rivetted with wonder'on the ring, wldch he so well remembered having bestowed upon his first wife. In answer to his eager inquiries, Jessie told him from whom she had received It; and then, resolviug to see the govemens, that he might learn how she became possessed of the trinket, he hurried away in search of her. t 4 In ihi meantime Kate had wandered to the picture gallery where, to her infinite surprise, she discovered that the portrait de- scribed by the child as that of her mamma, was one whieh had been taken of herself shortly after her marriage with Clitheroe, At this sight her brain whirled with rapture, for she was now con- vinced that, in the Pari of Castletou, ahe should find the husband who she had long mourned as dead ; bi| t her joyful anticipations were as suddeuly changed to grief at the recollection that he \ yas agaiu married, aud that her return would fill him with self- re- proache « far having contracted another union whilst his former wife was still In existence. As ih- i only resource that remained, Kate ( then determined to quit the house ere a discovery took place, nod CRIMINAL ANNALS; CALENDAR, NEW Oft. NEWGATE CONTAININFL THK I^' ves, Exploits, and Adventures of the most Notorious High- waymen, Pick- pockets. Shnrpers, Burglars, Murderers, Coiners, Forgers, Prls n- breakers, Mutineers, Pirates, Iraitors, Incen- diaries, and Criminals of every description. BY JAMES ROBERTSON, ESQ. READ THE DEMON DWARF; OR, THE MAGIC TALISMAN AND THE BOND OF BLOOD ! Now Publishing I » Penny Numbers. A Romance of the most powerful and thrlli.' ng interest, with numerous Illustrations. London: W. BlUTTAIN, 11, Paternoster- Row, and all Book- sellers. To one of the digits be sure to prefix Just five times an hundred without any tricks } Add fifty more fifties, arrange them quite near, Transpose a denial, my whole will appear. VIII. One half ofa talkative bird, Which often to stealing Inclines} One half of a part ot a church, With ease with the former unites. One ha f of what Cooks often use, One half of what none wish to lose? My whole will bring clear to your view, A thi » g dear to me and to you. IX. My first is a domestic fowl, Also a word of fondness; My second's half wha' olt I found To sting almost to madness. Tho* in eharade I have display'd My wit, with seesmug gladness j My whole deelare without delay, Or yon wM eause me sadness. X. My half is what the fair sex do, Alvlio* we t!; em caress t My whole I would not give for you, Should you love them the less. Chelsea. O'L , Jnn. COMPOSERS OF MUSIC, j I,— Three- fourths of what is msediu brewing, a vowel, and four- sixths of a kind of spirit. 12.— A part of the human frame, and thr& e- fourths of a place of torment. 13.— Three- fourths of a public walk In London, and two- fourths ef a woman's name. 14.— Thr « e- fifiks of what every one strives to procure, and two- fourths of a flower. CITIES JW SCOT6AND. ^ 15.— Three- fourths of the he » d of a nation, and four- fifths of what thieves used to suffer on in ancient tfcnes. 16.— A colour, and three- fourths of that which keeps your door fast. ]?.— Three- fifths of what is used ly doctors, and three- fourths of bird. 18.— That there is a difference between a letter and an epistle my history will clearly show. In the days of Quesn Bess I was the friend of Raleigh, for by my aid, though doomed to suffer, he could not change. I have served the protector, and through his wicked life it was I who first endeavoured to make liim end well. After the revolution I was chief physician to the king, and when I was absent he always complained of sickness. Had I lived in ancient time ® . e° friendly am I to erowned heads that Cleopatra would have escaped with a sling, and her Gold arm would have felt a re- viving heat. I am rather a friend to sprightliness than industry, for I have often converted a mere neuter into a man of talent, the delight of society, while I have often amused myself with redueing the provident ant to indigenee. I never yet met a hack horse without giving him a blow, and yet to some animals I am a friend, and many a puppy has yelped for aid when I have deserted him. I am a patron to architecture, and can turn everything into brick and mortar, while I am so honest withal that whenever I find a palp of stockings I always enquire for their owner. I have taught my hat to ask questions of facts, and my poultry questions of chronology. With my trees I have the labours of the laundress when she scours my llneo » when she finds a rent it is I who make It whole. short, hoiveyer good and wiss you may be* you can never b « tjbove half ss good a » < jTwis< i a » I am. PUBLIC ACKNOWLEDGMENT. ITHE undersigned JOHN CUBLEY, late of iJerby, but now of the town of Nottingham, heretofere a. schoolmaster, but now out of employment, do hereby acknowledge, lhat 1 have lately got compounded some Pills, which I have eoid to different persons as-' OLD PARRS LIFE PILLS, ' by repre- senting that 1 had purchased the R « clpe tor that celebrated Medi- cine; such representation was, however, entirely false, and the Proprietors of the OENeiNK 44 Old Parr's Life Pills" have com- menced legal proceedings against me for the above fraud. But I having expresred sorrow and contrition, and given up to the* » the names and addresses ot each person to whom I have sold any of such Pills, as well as of the Druggists who compounded the same; and agreed to make this public apology, and a » y all the expenses^ including this advertisement, the Proprietors hnve kindly con- sented to forego such legal proceedings. I do, therefore, deciaru my shame and sorrow for having committed such an Imposition on. the public, and such a fraud on the Proprietors of Old Pnrr'a Life Pills," and furthar express my acknowledgments for their lenity. JOHN CUBLEY, Dated this 28th rfsy of January, 1841. Witness— II. B. CAMPUULI., Solicitor, Nottingham. In order, therefore, to protect tlie public from such imitations,, the Hon. Commissioners of Stamps have ordered " PARR'S LIFE PILLS '* to be engraved on the Government Stamp attached t © each box, without which lisue are geuuine. LET i ICR From Mr. J. DRURY, of Lincoln, shewing the high estimation these invaluable Medicines are held in that City " To the Proprietors of Parr's Life Pills. * GEKTI. KMBN,— " When you first appointed me agent to sell Old Parr's Life Pills, which was August 14th, lft40, I was doubtful of making much sale, there being so many different pills for the publlo to please themselves wi4h. There mutt, however, be more length of LIVE in Paw's Pills than in sthers, for I fiad on enquiry, that much benefit Is obtained from them, and that they RKALLY no GOOD to hundreds and thousands of people : I aiay say thousands, for if all your agents sell at bhe same rate I do, and I have solft a few, up to the present time, viz:— 642 boxes! large and small sites. I am now wanting a fresh supply, which please to send Instanter, or eiso you will have much to answer for by not making haste to OIVK NEW1 LKNOTH OP LIPE to them wanting It; and you may d- pend upon it for truth, that many OLD people whs were going down fast in life, are now invigorated with NEW LIFE, NEW FEELIPCOS,— SPRIGHTLY, and FULL OF ACTIVITY, and who say THEY ARE FAR BETTER IN HEALTH since th* y have taken OLD PARRS LIFE PILLS, than they we> e some twenty years back ! 8ureiy there is magic In the pills to do so much goad to the human frame, not only to ihe aged, but to the young aa well, and particularly young females. I am, your obedient Servant. JAMBS DRUhV. 224, Stone Bow, Lincoln. Feb. 8th, 1841. Price Is. lid., 2s. 9d., and family boxes I Is. each; the hoxea at 2a. 9,1. contain equal to three small, and those at II a. equal to five at 2s. 9d. Full directions are given with each box. Thia Medicine is sold wholesale, by appointment, by KBWARD'S. St. Paul's Church Yard, London. London:— Printed and Published by E. LLOi D, 231, High Street, iHwrcditeh; and at ii, Hob, w » H- street. Strand. «