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The Penny Sunday Times and People's Police Gazette

26/09/1841

Printer / Publisher: E. Lloyd 
Volume Number: 2    Issue Number: 78
No Pages: 4
 
 
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The Penny Sunday Times and People's Police Gazette

Date of Article: 26/09/1841
Printer / Publisher: E. Lloyd 
Address: 231, High street, Shoreditch, and at 8 Holywell Street, Strand
Volume Number: 2    Issue Number: 78
No Pages: 4
Sourced from Dealer? No
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THE ttlttal AND PEOPLE'S PENNY imt POLICE GAZETTE. 3SNo. 16. LONDON:— SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1841. Vol. 2. ftolfce. MANSION HFCUSFC. CUTTING SIRORT HIS TALE * A red- faced, bow- frototed, eld'eriy geMIWiKtVi', foisted ih- totlie Court in a state of ih'e greatest kftfcsibte excite- ment, and aiMntSsihirhims'elf 10 itoe lAiril Mayor, said ;— ". ™ ie's a state I'm ih, yobf- lordship!— Only look at Wei— I'm hot, fit to be sfeen !" With these wards U16 gentleman tuinedhimselfround, and exhibited his coat, which living been curtailed of its lair propsifens, was mer^ orphosed into a spencer. 1 he I .' or,! Mayor Squired of what the gentleman had to notuplain. 0 COMI\ a! NANT_ What have 1 got to complain of!— " Vt you see how they've served me ?— Deprived rue of my tai I ? LOUD MAYOR.— Pray be a little more explicit, and in- form Hie of what it is, and against whom you have to complain. COMPLAINANT.— I am a wholesale stationer, jour lord- ship ;— would to Heaven 1 was, at ihe present time, a re- tail one. 1 was standi lie at the door of a shop in Cheap- side not long since, reading a bill, when I thought I felt rather cool hehnd, and putting my hand to w here my coat pockets ought to have been, I found that the tails of my coat were gone, at the same moment I discovered two fellows retreating Irom the spot, one ot ihem holding my identical tails in his hand. 1 immediately raised a cry of " stop thief, atid several persons to lowed in pursuit of them, hut 1 beinurather ton stout for running was soon winded, So 1 thought it was best to come here anil give an account of the robbery, and a description of the thieves, so that the officers might take proper steps to apprehend them. LJOSD MAYOR.— What property did your pockets T- on- ifain ? APPLICANT.— Unfortunately I was imprudent tenonghto put ruy purse containing eleven sovereigns and some odd silver in one of my pockets, the other only contained a pocket handkerchief. The gentleman was about to make some further obser- vations when the offenders who had been apprehended ihy two policemen were brought into the office, with the docked coat tails, and the other property described by the gentleman in their possession. LORD MAYOR.—( to the prisoners). Oh, oh, it's you is it?— I am very happy t » see you ; we have wanted you a long while. ONE OF THE PRISONERS.— Lor' bless yer lordship, yer must bo mistaken ;— veare honest, ' spectable men, 1 can assure you. LORD MAYOR.— Indeed I— well such mistakes will oc- cur sometimes ; hut pray what are you? PRISONER,— Please yer lordship, ve aie general conwey- dncers. LORD MAYOR.— I have no doubt of it! But how do you account lor this gentleman's coat tails being lound in your possession ? PRISONER.— Vy, vy,— I say Bill, how did ve get hold o' this here gemnian'sexchequer? BILL.— Oh, cut it; that's a choker!— The general conweyancers were fully committed to trial, and the gentleman being bound over to prosecute, walked out of the office, and immediately jumped into a cab, having ambition to appear in a spencer. THE NOTE BOOK. " I will make a prlef of It in my Note- book." M. W., ov WINDSOR. F GIPSY SUPERSTITIONS.— Almost all persons know that gipsies in every country claim acquaintance Wilh the gift of fortune- telling; but, as is often ihe case, they are liable to the superstitions of which they avail themselves in others. A correspondent of Blackwood gives us some information on the subject of their cre- dulity. " I have ever understood," he says, speaking of the Jetholm gipsies, " that they are extremely supersti- tious,— carefully noticing the formation of the clouds, the flight of particular birds, and ihe soughing of Ihe winds, before attempting any enterprise. They have been known for several successive days to turn back with their loaded carts, asses, and children, on meeting with persons whom they considered of unlucky aspect; nor do ihey ever proceed on their summer peregrina- tions without some propitious omen of their fortunate return. They also burn the clothes of their dead, not so much from any apprehension of infection being com- municated by them, as the conviction that the very cir- cumstance of wearing them would shorten the days of their living. They likewise carefully watch the coipse by night and day, till Ihe lime of interment, and con- ceive that' the devil tinkles at the lyke wake ' of those who felt in their dead- thraw the agonies and terrors of remorse." These notions are peculiar to the gipsies; but having been once generally eruertained among the Scottish common people, aie now only found among those who are the most rude in their habits, and most devoid of instruction. The popular idea that the protracted strug- tle between lite and death is painfully prolonged by eeping the rloorof the apartment shut, was received as certain by the superstitious eld of Scotland. But nei- ther was it to be thrown wide open. To leave the door ajar was the plan adopted by the older crones who un- derstood the mysteries of death- beds and lyke- wakes. In that case, there was room for the imprisoned spirit to escape; and yet an obstacle, we have been assured, was ottered to the entrance of any frightful form which might otherwise intrude itself. The threshold of a habitation was « seme sort a sacred limit, and the subject of much superstition. A bride, even to this day, is always lifted over it, a rule apparently derived from the Romans. Dampte. tn hl. voy, ge, teli, u. that . eamen thrown upon the unknown coast of America, never venlure to taste ihe fruit of any ! lm'.? k. 7fKv', h1" u"' le, » "> « y ob » " ve that it Umarked by the pecking of birds, but fall on without fear or ap. prehension where the birds have beeu before them.- OW Manu. THE MUPM OF SIE WILLIAM GAiK? 70RD! ABOVE PA( R)! Look at my son— my « n, y » on « And tell me now, in ' cuth. If he's not above all other lad'* In short a rising youth ? No longer can he be the butt Of satire at him hurl'd; And ' spite of all that folks may say, He stands high in the world ! Such lofty notions, too, has he— Indeed he is a star j And reasonable persons own That he is above Pa( r) t THE MURDER OF THE WILLOW CLEN. ( BY THE AUTHOR OP " THE ROYAL FAVOURITE." WRITTEN EXPRESF. LY FOR THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES.) " Would to God, mother!" exclaimed a young woman, opening the caselhent of a sthail hut neat cottage, and looking forth upon the bleak and dismal fens of Lancashire that extended for miles around. " Would to God that Richard had returned !— The snow is driving wilh fearful violence, and the cold is so in- tense, that everything seems turning lo ice. It's along way from the town, and he may have soiiite difficulty, if not danger, in finding his way hotebi" Darkness was fast wrapping everything in obscurity, and thick heavy clouds, loaded with moisture, were pouring from all quarters. The winter's sun had set in the west in sickly streaks of yellow, and everything be- tokened the approach ofa storm, from which, both man and beast shrunk in apparent awe. The wind moaned among the chimneys, nnd the trees ablost bowed to the earth with its fury, driving tbe large flakes of snow with a violence seldom witnessed even in this northern country. The girl closed the casement with a shudder, and drawing a thick blind before thejwindow, returned to the tire, at which was seated the female w hosi she had addressed as molhei. She was a neat old Wortiiln; of nearly seventy years of age-, but whbse faculties were apparently unimpaired', for the ftheel at which she sat whirled round with afcheerful noise, and formed a merry accompaniment to the chirp of the cricket in the capa- cious fireplace. A large fire of logs crackled and blazed on the earth, over which hung an iron pot, from the mouth of which issued a savoury smell, that told well for the goodness of its contents. All around bore an air of comfort seldom seen in cottages of this class in England, and many little luxuries peeped out here and there, betokening that ils owners were it least re- moved from want. There was no ceiling, but the thick substantial rafters were hung with ropei of onions, sides of bacon, and other necessaries. Over theniantel- piece were suspended two guns, with their accompany- ing shot and powder bells, both of which seemed to have lately seen some service, as the pans were black- ened with powder. All the rest of the furniture was of the humblest description, and the dressof Ihe inmates accorded well with the appearance of the cottage.-"— the old dame in her mob cap, anil her gown of flowered ca- lico lucked neatly up behind, Her daughter, whose countenance was rather striking than handsome, and whose eyes was anxiously turned towards Ihe door, wore a look of anxiety, that betokened a troubled heart, and who longed, yet almost feared to see the object whose coming she seemed awaiting. " Iliope lie will not meet with any of the gang to- night," she observed, " for being Christmas eve, ihey may have drank too freely, and heaven alone knows what may be the consequence if they should meet any one from Ihe hall." Why, Susan," exclaimed the old dame, pausing from her work, and gaz: ng upon her daughter with astonish- ment, " what has come over you this evening ? You never used to be thus fearful", and heaven knows yon have watched through many dreary nights for his re- torn." " I have, indeed, mother! and you Utile know the hours of agony I have endured while he was away on bis perilous task." " But he has always returned in safety," replied the old dame, in a 6(> oihing tone, " and i trust lie will now." " I trust he will, mother," said Susan ; " but since he has leagued himself with those desperadoes, tiis nature seems wholly changed, and he is no longer the Richard of my first love.' 1 " Ah ! that was indeed a sad thing," said dame Jervis, " and I am afraid he will yet repent it." " The keepers, too, keep a stricter look out, since such quantities of game have disappeared; and Sir William Gainsford, who was enraged at my indignant refusal of his infamous proposals, has sworn to lie Re- venged. He suspects Richard, mother, and will not leave a stone unturned to remove him from the country." " Sir WillL- im cannot be so base, Susan." " Yon knoVv him not., mother. I cannot forget the fiend- like look tiiat liig'ilted across his countenance, on my spurning him with contempt, nor the dreadful oath he swore to be revenged. Under a smiling deceiving face, he wears a heart of the blackest dye. t have not since looked upon that man without shuddering." " Heaven send Richard cross not his path, then," said the old woman; " of there may be blood spilt between them." '• ' Tis ( hat, mother, that fills me with ferfof, and dire forebodings of evil crowd upon my brain. If Richard does not come soon, 1 will go in search of him ; 1 cannot endure this torturing suspense much longer;" " Way, Susan, are yon mad ? WcSuld yoli veiiture abroad oil such a night as this S Hark how the wind howls round the house, and ihe hail beats against the glass. It chills my old heart to hear It." " But Susan did not appear to hear her. She sat before ihe fire, her head sunk upon her breast, and her arms folded upon her bosom. Her eyes were fixed on vacancy, and her mind appeared lo be struggling with a feeling almost too dfeen for utterance. Her mother ob- sel- vecl this, ahd, resuming her spinning, relapsed into silence. " Mother," at length exclaimed Susan, raising her head, and fixing her dark eyes earnestly on the wrinkled countenance of ihe good old dame, " do you place any faith in dreams }" " Why do you ask, my child?" said the old woman, in surprise, " Because I have had a dream of fearful import; one in which every circumstance was so distinctly ponr- truyed, lhat it is impressed oh my startled memory with dreadful accuracy. The very remembrance of it makes me tremble with horror." " It must indeed have been fearful to have had s'Jch an effect upon von," said dame Jervis;•" and to what do you allude P'' " I will tell you, mother, and then you can judge for yourself of my feelings. A few nights ago I had as usual beMn silting up late for Richard, when sleep stole over me, and t fancied myself iti the copse at the foot of the hill. What brought me there, or for what pur- pose I was in that lonely spot, I cannot recollect, A newly- made grave yawned beneaih an aged sycamore, and a pickaxe lay by the side. Suddenly a rustling in the bushes was heard, and a man in the dress of a pea- sant appeared, dragging belli ml him Ihe body ofa game* keeper, the blood streaming from a gaping wound in his forehead. 1 could not distinguish Itae features of Ihe murderer, as his hat was drawn closely over his eyes, and his face was turned from the light of the moon, which, shining brightly on the ghastly counte- nance of Ihe murdered man, disclosed to me thi; well- known fealuresof James Norton, SirWilliara Gainsford's head gamekeeper. A sickly faintness came over me, and 1 clung with trembling hands to the trunk of a tree. I almost feared to look up, and meet the gaze of the murderer, who, however, to my great surprise, did not appear to be aware of my presence. The body of the gamekeeper was huriiedly thrown into the grave, and the earth quickly replaced. As the murderer slooped to raise the pickaxe, his hat fell from his head, and with a shriek of agony I recognised Oh I mother, I cannot speak it, it is too dreadful for utter- ance." And she clasped her hands befoie her face, and sighed bitterly. " It was but a dream, my dear Susan," said her mother, hardly restraining her tears at her daughter's distress. " Your imagination, affrighted and distem- pered by your anxious watching, conjured up this fear- ful dream— you give way too much to these gloomy forebodings. But say— whom did the murderer re- semble ?" '• Richard— my husband, mother," exclaimed Susan, with some effort. *' I recollect nothing afterwards; but when I awoke he vt- as lying by my side, and heartfelt were my thanks to heaven that it was but a dream." And as such," added Dame Jertfs,- " ought to be dismissed from your mind." " And so it would have been, mother," replied Susan, " but last night I had the same dream again, with a fear- ful addition. There was the same copse— the same grave at the sycamore tree— the same ghastly appari- tions. After them came a wild heath, with a black gibbet, the creaking of whose chains was heard loud above the roaring of the wind across that desolate place. Then rolled the thunder, and tbe lightning, flashing on the fatal tree, revealed the countenance of Richard, his features distorted with agony, and his eyes protruding from his head, glaring wildly upon me. The thunder rolled on— the lightning flashed in one conti- nued sheet, and then all was again enveloped in the most intense darkness." " It is a terrible dream, my dear child," said her mother, " and— btft hark I what noise was that?" Susan instantly sfai'ted up,- and, flying to the case- ment, threw it wide open. If there had been any change in the appearance of the weather,- it had been for the worse, for hail, rain, and snow now fell together in one confused mass, and prevented anything from be- ing seen beyond a few yards of the house. She listened anxiously for a repetition of the sound that had reached her mother, but if it was repeated, it was drowned by the soli rid of the falling rain. Closing the easement in disappointment, she returned to the fire- place, exclaim- " You must have been mistaken, mother; all is quiet without." " Your tale has made me anxious, Susan;" said tbe old dame, looking timidly round her. " I hope he will return soon, or I shall begin to think that aomething has really happened to him." " It is beyond his usual hour," added Susan, glanc- ing at the clock, which was just on the stroke of one, and again she walked to the ca « ement and looked forth. As she opened the window, the sot'rnd of men's voice,, as if in lirud dispute, came faintly up from the distance, and then all was silent again. She listened intently for some minutes, and was about to retire from the window in disappointment, when the flash of a gun, followed by a faint report, was seen, accompanied by a scream of agony that echoed far around. Steps, as if in hasty re- treat, resounded across the fen, and the figure of a man, bounding along with rapid steps, appeared al a small distance from the cottage. " Thank heaven, he comes," exclaimed Susan, almost dead wilh terror ; and then, lOttering to the door, drew back the bolt, and fell breathless in a chair. " I shall now know the worst; anything will be better than this torturing suspense." She had hardly uttered these words when the door ( lew open, and a young man, in whose countenance was depicted the utmost horror, darted in. In his hand he carried the remains ofa gun, which had been broken at the stock, apparently with a violent blow, and he was bleeding from a slight wound on the cheek. His dress was soaked with rain, and torn in several places, as if he had been engaged in some dreadful struggle; and the marks of mud about his person showed that he had not escaped without a fearful resistance. " Bring me the bar, Susan," he exclaimed, hastily; " I am pursued, but they shall uot take me alive Wretch that I am, I will not perish on a gibbet." " Gracious God, Richard," exclaimed Susan, cling- ing to him with desperate eagerness, " what have you done ?" " Do not ask me ; I cannot bear to think of it. The very thought sears my brain, and nearly drives me to madness. But hark I they come, and the door is yet unfastened." He shook his wife roughly from him, and, snatching up a bar that stood in one corner of the room, placed it across the door- way. The windows were then firmly secured, and he became more collected. " Richard," exclaimed dame Jervis, solemnly, " what is this you have done I" " I have done that," he replied, his eyes almost start- ing from his head, " for which they will tear me from mry home— my wife— from all, and drag me to the gal- lows* I am a murderer !" " A mnrderer, Richard 1" shrieked Susan, wildly- " Aye, 8 « » an, a murderer— and that, too, of the deepest dye ; for him whose blood I shed was the- play- fellow of my youth, though now in the service of one who is my bitterest enemy." " You cannot mean James Norton, Sir Willi. ws's gamekeeper !'' " It is too true, Susan.'' " My dream is, indeed, fearfully verified, mother," she added, and almost unconsciously shrinking from her husband. " Ay, shrink from me, Susan— leave me to my fate. I am no longer worthy of your love." " Oh, Richard,'' she exclaimed, bursting into leare, " da not say that. You could not have been guilty of intentional murder— you that would not harm a worm. I cannot believe it. But 1 will not desert you in mis- fortune. I will share all your misery— and feel most happy while I am doing so." " No, Susan," he replied, in a qniet calm tone, that alarmed her, " I cannot face the gaping multitude at the foot of the fatal tree. There is no escaping from their clutches, but I will sell my life as dearly as 1 can." " And spill more innocent blood, still. No, dearest Richard, this must not be. They must be now close at hand. Conceal yourself in the loft where you bide- your game, and I will endeavour to mislead them as to- your retreat." She spoke this wilh a calmness and decision that seemed to have a great effect en her hus- band's itartled nerves, and he paused for an instant as if in deep thought. Before he could reply, a loud shouting was heard al a little distance from the cottage, and the bark of several dogs made the place echo. It aroused him to a sense of his danger, and he exclaimed, " I will do so, Susan, though it is much against my nature to lie caged like a fox." " Quick, then, dear Richard," urged his alarmed wife, " quick, or you will be too late," and she caught him by the arm, and tried to force him to leave tbe room. He turned from her, and, advancing towards the fireplace, took one of the guns, and deliberately cocked it. " For heaven's sake, do not take that with you, she exclaimed, seizing it from his grasp, " or God alor knows where this may end 1 Besides, there are so among them who know our cottage, and its dlsa/ » "- ance may create suspicion." He silently obeyed her, and, wilh the assist table, displaced some of the boards that f roof, through which he climbed, carrying the broken gun. The boards were restored former position, and Susan, hastily catching u work, bnsied herself as if nothing had happened, dame Jervis wheeled her wheel with greater assiduit than ever. Many minutes had not elapsed, ere a loud knocking, accompanied by a peremptory demand for the door to be opened, was heard. Susan rose from her seat, and advancing towards the door, asked, in as calm a voice as she was able, " who it was that demanded admission at so late an hour." " We will tell you that when you open tbe door,' replied a rough voice. Susan still hesitated, hardly knowing how to act. " Come, be quick about it, missus," said the man who hud answered her, " or, we shall force an entrance. We aint a- going to stand a shilly- shallying here all night." " Tell me the purpose of your visit, then,' said Susan, in alarm, as the thick door began to resound with blows from the bult- end of bis gun, " and I will comply wilh your demand." " Don't gammon innocence in that way," replied the man brutally, " or " " Mrs. Godfrey," interrupted a voice, " it will be best to obey at once. If your husband is not here, we will depart without molesting you. But beware how you trifle with us." " That is Fenton's voice, Susan,'' said the old dame, clasping her hands with terror. " It is useless to dis- pute them farther." With a trembling hand Susan unbolted the door, and the little room was instantly filled with a number of men, mostly gamekeepers, who, without waiting to ask any questions, commenced a rigorous search, while the one, who had been recognised as Fenton, addressed himself to Susan. ( To he concluded in our next.) SWEETS OP MATRIMONY,— We see It stated that a lady in a neighbouring state has applied for a divorce from her husband be- cause he would always Insist on licking tbe cork of the molasses jvig when she unstopped it. What would our divorce committee think of such a cause as this ? asks a Hartford paper. We believe they refuse a divorce unless the husband absolutely licks the wife herself, which Is little worse than licking the molasses stopple. Il I » TlIE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. THE DEATH GRASP OR, A FATHER'S CURSE! BY THB AUTHOR OF " ELA, THE OUTCAST," ETC. ( Continued from our last.) " Fair maiden, surely my ears deceive me 1 Such • words, and from one whom I never remember to have seen before!" " Ah, Signor !" said the lovely stranger, " I am better acquainted with thee than thou dost imagine. This is a large city, and foreigners may meet with more observers and admirers than their inordinate partiality for one ob- ject may le. d them to suppose. I repe it that thou a d Zitella, the Brigand girl, liae often met before; but, ab- sorbed in thy love for the daughter of Signora Venom, as she calls herself— the fair Marceline— thou couldst not perceive the eye of admiration which secretly watched all thine actions, and dwelt upon thy various merits with that intensity ef feeling whiehl eft the heart no affections hut such as acknowledged the power of thine image. I know that tiiou mayest deem this con- fession b - Id— imprudent— but why should 1 wish to con- ceal those sentinieuis I have in vain tried to conquer ? Alas! the cert tinty of being despised cannot be worse than to be compelled to cherish a secret pa- sion without being enabled to disburthen the mind to the object that hath inspired it." The beauteous Zitella paused, and the crimson blushes that mantled in ber cheeks, aud the ardent expression of her eyes, rendered her still more love y, and spoke more than volumes could have done. Henri's very soul was transfixed in astonishment, at- tention, and admiration. He was totally incapable of returning any answer lor a few moments, and was confused that he could not collect his thoughts so as to return a suitable reply. " Lovely damsel," at leugth he said. " thy words have so surprised me thit 1 can scarcely believe I am awake. Surely I must have misunderstood thee, or 1 am labour ing under an illusion!" " It is no illusion, Henri Le Sange," returned the Brigand girl; " Zitella li ves thee— loves thee to adora tion. Nay, turn not away thine head— if thou canst not love me, do not despise me. Accidentally we met, and no sooner did my e- es behold tliee than my heart acknowledged thine influence. I tried to stifle the hope- less passion in my breast, but tried in vain. Love is a guest, Senor. who, when once admitted to the heart, is not easily ejected. 1 felt my ove daily aud hourly in- crease ;— thine image was ever present to my imagina- tion ; my thoughts were perpetually fixed upon thee. I sought every opportunity to behold thee, and foil., wed thy footsteps whenever 1 had a chance. Ah, Signor ! Marceline Veuoni may love thee, but she cannot halt so warmly, so ardently as the Brigand girl." As Zite'la thus spoke, she fixed her eves upon Henri with a look which revealed the feelings of her bosom, and penetrated to his heart. The remarkable circum- stance quite bewildered liim, and he knew not what to sav. Who art thou, fair damsel ?" he at last said, " and • what brings thee in such a situation ?" " 1 am the daughter of Allesaridrio Rohelli the Bri- gand Chief," the girl replied ; " tile name 1 bear is Zi- tella, as I have before told thee. This cavern is among the mountains, and—" " Allesandrio Robelli," interrupted Henri; " is it pos- sible ? That name so teri ible 1" " Nay," observed ZiielJa, " the world doth mv father an injustice. To his enemies alone he is terrible; but AUesatidi io Robelli delights not in deeds of blood " " But tell me, how came 1 here?" asked Henri. " Returning train oue of their predatory excursions to this retreat," replied Zitella, " my father aud some ot his comrades saw tliee stretched upon the eaith, wounded aud bleeding, aud out of pity bore thee hither. But hark! there is my father's signal— I must away- he hath re- turned. Faiewell, Henri— we shall meet again ; and, it thy thoughts are not entirely occupied with the imase of the fortunate Marceline, think with pity, il thou canst not with love, upon tin' Brigand gill." She fixed upon him a look as she spoke which pierced his heart, aud then, with a deep sigh, hastened from the cavern, leaving Henri in a state ot mind of which the reader may easily form a conception. The confession of Zitella had completely confused and astonished him, and in spite of all his effoi'is to the con- trary, her uncommon beamy had made a most powerful impression upon him. The situation he was placed in, and the anguish his mother and Marceline were doubt- less enduring, soon, however, superseded every other thought, and his uneasiness was almost past endurance. The name of Allesandrio Robelli bad gained a terrible notoriety, notwithstanding what Zitella had said tn the contrary, aud many desperate and ciuel deeds were laid to his charge. Rewards were offered for bis apprehen- sion in vain, and be had hitherto eluded all the stratagems that had been formed to apprehend him, and bade deli ance to the law. But jet, Henri reflected, he could have Uo motive for wishing to detain him, neither could he imagine that he would, if Zitella had sptken tbe truth, lit being represented by her as merely acting Irom motives of humanity. He was aroused from these reflections by the entrance qf lie apparent monk who had befote attended him, and who, advancing towards the couch, enquired how Henri felt, and wheiherthe pain wf his wounds had in any de- gree abated. " Who art thou ?" demanded the young man. ' Doth not my garb Inform thee, sou?" replied the mall. " A monk!" exclaimed Henri, in accents of astonish- ment—" a monk, aud the friend and associate of Bri- gands 1" ' " Even so, my son," answered the monk ; " Allesan- d" o Robelli and I are old friends, and, therefore, do 1 perform such offices for him as those which 1 am doing for thee." " But shall I not be suffered to leave this cavern as soon as my strength will permit me ?" demanded Heuri; and, in the meantime, will not my frieuds be made ac- quainted with my situation ?" " Those questions I cannot answer thee," said the " Allesandrio, however, is very careful respecting ! who may luve entered his retreat, and it is not pro- ! he would make thy friends acquainted with thv when, by so doing, he would risk his own was I brought hither?" demanded Henri, kestthou that Allesandrio Rotielli is so lost to eling of humanity as to ltave a wounded man to t the streeis ?" said the monk. I where is his humanity, monk, if, after saving ; from death, he refuseth mi: my liberty ?" interrogated Henri. " 1 do not say that he will refuse thee, son ?" returned tbe monk; " but those aie questions I cannot solve. All that I have to do with thee is to see to thy wounds, and thou shalt have no reason to complain ot my want of at- tention." " Methinks it would better become thee, father, if thou art sincere in the holy religion thou dost profess, instead of associating with the perpetrators of crime, to exert thyself to bring them to punishment, and to aid those who fail into their power to escape," said Heuri, fixing upon the monk a penetrating look. He seemed aba- hed at his words, aud could not make any immediate reply; and at length, altei muttering out, some incoherent expressions, he abruptly quitted the place, leaving H nri to reflect upon the painful situation in which fate had so unfortunately placed hi in. His feelings were so much excited that it greatly irri- tated ilie an- guish of his wounds, and his pain was, con- sequently, most acute. Good reason had he to curse the villany of the Duke Monterino, which had thrown him into such a dilemma, and left Marceliite without any one to protect her from his evil designs. This thought tormented him more than all, for he had not the least doubt that Monterino would take advantage of so favourable an opportunity to set Marceline in his power, and ere that, she had been seized by him, and conveyed to a place of security. His mother, too, luw great must be her sufferings at the uncertainty of his late! She must he in a suite of distraction, an he trembled when be thought ofthe dreadful consequences that would, in all probability, follow. The monk visited him several times in the course of the day, and attended to his wounds, but he carefully avoided enlerint into any fartln r conversation. One of the Brigands in ought him his provisions, and invariably left the taertt without speaking a word. Miserably did the day past away, and as night approached, the gloom of the place iwer. a » ed ti e melancholy ol Heuri, and ilie tumult ol hi- thoug' ts 1 ecamc uuen lurable. Amidst all his uther reflections, H- nri could not help dwelling upon the wort's of Zitella « ith astonishment; nor could he avoid thinking of her beauty without ad- miration. Notwithstanding the apparent boldness she had evinced by contenting her passion for him, and under such peculiar cirevmstances, there was a certain simplicity and modesty in her demeanour which was particularly fascinating, and which had made a deep impression upon Henri's mind, and there was some- thing so romantic iu the whole adventure, that he could with difficulty persuade himself it was reality. We will now pass over a week, during which time the only persons who visited the invalid was the monk, and the brigand we have nefore alluded to. Notwithstand- ing the excitement of his mind had been very great at first, it had, by degrees, abated, and trusting that the idea of his detention might prove erroneous, he become more composed. In consequence of this, his wounds mended apace, and in a few days more, he was so far recovered, as to be able to leave his couch He then requested an interview with Allesandrio. in order that he might thank him for the attention he had received, and t" request that he might be permitted to return t. o his frieu is. In a few minutes alter he had sent this message by the man who brought him his provisions, the Brigand- chief entered the cavern. Henri was forcibly struck by his appearanee, and his looks seemed to give the lie to the reports that had been circulated about of his cruelty, and in him he recog- nized the same man whom hehad b held in the cavern with the monk when he was first restored to his senses. Allesandrio Kobelli, the Brigand- chief, was a inan apparently about lorty years of age, and his counten ance was remarkably handsome His features were perfectly regular, and" his fine black eyes, so keen and penetrating, sparkled with intelligence. He was very tall, and his strong, robust figure, was perfect in every point. He wore a most elegant dress of crimson velvet, and profusely decorated with laie and jewellery ; and a high- crowned hat lurun unted bis head, in which was a plume of feathers of the finest white. Altogether his appearance was most commanding and interesting, and Henri could not but acknowledge the forcible impres- sion it bad made upon him. He advanced hastily towards the young man, and greeted him with a very polite bow, at the same time congratulating him on " the rapidity with which he was approaching convalescence ; and his manner of address was. polishetl in the extreme, and was sufficient to con- vince any one that his origin had been ti" ble. " Thou didst wish to see me, Henri le Sange," said Allessandrio. " what would'st thou with me ?" " 1 would tnank thee for the kindness I have expe- rienced from thee, which, from sucli a sourt e, 1 had no riaht to expect," replied Heuri, " and request thee to allow me to return to my friends, who, doubtless, are in a state of distraction at. my disappearance," " hoi the service 1 have been fortunate enough to have had it, in my power to render thee, I need no thanks," returned Allesandrio j but, as regards thy request, I regret that I have it not in mv power to comply with it." " How ?" demanded Henri, hastily. " There is a rule among the gang, of which I am the chief," replied Ale- sandrio, " and to which we are all bound by oath strictly to adhere, never to suffer those persons who may tail into our power, to quit this cavern again, unless they consent to become one of the gang." " Ah !" exclaimed Henri, his indignation rising as he spoke, " am 1 then to be detained against my will." " Such a fact, I am sorry to say, is imperative," an- swered Allesandrio. " It was an accn ent which placed me in thy power," said Henri, " thou hast saved my life, and thou, surely, wilt not do away with the debt of gratitude I owe thee fer thy humanity, by a deed of cruelty like thisj?" " 1 have told theed have no power to act otherwise." " What tood can my detention do thee or the gang ?" demanded Henri. " At any rate, it wiil secure thee from betraying us !" was ihe answer; " this cavern is unknown to all but ourselves, and here we have been enabled to bid de- fiance to our enemies, and to elude every attempt which has been made to discover us." " This precaution, with me," said Henri, is unneces- sary. 1 am ready to take any oath, which you may th nk proper to administer to nie ?" " Thy friends have already been apprized that thou art. sate," said Allesandrio. " the rest, as I have before told thee, thou inusi make up thy mind to comply with, I have m t the power to assist thee." " Oh, pause, Alle- andrio," urged Henri,—" pause and r< fleet upon what thou would'st do, and of the consequences that will, iu all probability, follow. It cannot be long ere it will be discovered in who- e power I am, and such steps are certain to be taken by my friends to ensure my restoration, and bring destruction upon thee and thy gang." A smile of scoru was visible in the features of the Brigand- chief, when Henri gave utterance to these ex- pressions, and he said : — " They would find that, as they have hitherto done, lather a difficult lask. Allesaudrio Robelli bids de- fiance lo his euemies, and will never be taken alive. Henri le Sange, thou inusi make up thy mind either to join us, and take the oaths that bind u- to each other, or remain a prisoner in this cavern. Think not, how- ever, that it is my intention to visit thee with arbitrary severity ;— no; here thou shalt have every indulgence that the place can afford. I am no euetny of thine; ou the contrary, 1 would be one of thy wannest friends, and •" " Hold ! Allesandrio," interrupted Henri ;—" Henri le Sauge cau never be the friend of a robber and a Brigand." ,' Well, well, e'en be it as thou wilt," said Allesan- drio, " but, perhaps thou may'st yet be glad to alter thine opinion. 1 have told thi e the rule, and thou hast no alternative but to abide by it." " If it is money thou requirest," observed Henri, " thou shalt have it, and, 1 rept at, that I will give thee every security thou niayest demand, to keep all that has transpired, and the place of thy retieat, au invio- lable secret." " I have told thee I have not the power to comply with thy wishes," again returned Allesandrio, " and. as I suppose that is all that thou didst require to see me for, I will bid tliee for the prt sent, adieu. I shall see thee again shortly when I hope to find thee a little more resigned, and in a condition to enter upon a sub- ject it is my intention to broach to thee," Before Henri could sav another word in reply, the Brigand- chief bowed to him politely, and quitted the place. We will not seek to describe tbe feelings of Henri after the Brigand- chief had left him, for any at'empt to do so, must be a signal failure, but, at length, being unable to Wear his feelings with any degree of patience, he tossed himself on his couch, and gave veut to them iu expressions of thii utmost resentment. The loud shouts of the Briga' d- i, ( who were carous- ing) from the inner cavern, Irequently assa led his ears, but nothing could divert his attention from the anguish of his own thoughts, and bis agitation arose to such a pitch, that he was in a high fever, and totally incapable of rising from his couch again, ilie moliK being again called in to attend him. We will now return to his mother and his friends, and recount the circumstances that had taken place since he had been iu the Brigand's cavern. ( To be continued in our next.] I awoke, and 1 and left a prpy to dogs and wolves, thanked God 1 was poor. " In my dreams I fancied I was a proud and am- bitious commoner, at the head, and leader of a rebel- lious and traitorous band of discontents. We had spread dismay and terror through the land. We called for fancied rights— we fought for fancied privileges— we battled for fancied liberty. Thinking ourselves despised and trampled on by the powerful, we swore revenge for injuries and insults, while, at the same time, we trampled on, and oppressed those who did not Join our lawless body. We kept our oath of ven- geance. Tbe lofty and towering palaces of the great were laid low— the gay mansions of the proud were levelled to the ground— the holy and sacred edifices did not escape our fury, but were demolished; Ruin, de- solation, and destruction, wefe found everywhere. The scene shifted, and 1 was forsaken and deserted. Our rebellion was over 1 The bell tolled, and many of my late companions swung lifeless or struggling on the gibbet. 1 vvas houseless artd starving— I was shunned and avoided! A price was on my head, but none dared to betray me. Those who had shared my crime, but escaped unpunished, feared to recognize me, I trembled at the look of every passer- by— I feared to find in every gazer an officer of justice. And then 1 knew my fate— a dungeon, and soon an igno- minious death, f was, indeed, miserable, in every fearful sense of the word; and at times I imagined I saw the horrid birds of prey hovering over my head, to devour my emaciated body before the vital spUrk had fled. I awoke, and 1 tlmnked Providence I was a poor and unaspiring man. " Unexpectedly 1 became rich 1 In my dreams I fancied 1 was a poo weaver. Sickness had impaired my strength, and brought misery to my humble dwell- ing. I was without a friend to assist, or a Christian to aid me, 1 saw my wife and children famishing for food, yet could not relieve their distress. My hands were feeble— my body weak— I was a beggar ! No ray of sunshine cheered our hearts— no wot d of pity was spoken to Us— no eye of sorrow or compassion looked upon us ;— all was comfortless, sad, and gloomy. 1 awoke, and thanked God 1 was rich. " In my dreams I was a hale and strong labourer— work was scarce, aud wages scanty. I found that, toil, labour, and sweat as 1 could, 1 scarcely earned the wherewithal to keep my self add family from starvation i we were in rags. My fellow- unmarried labourers taunted me with poverty and misery. 1 vvas told it was a punishment. Some said it was a judgment from above, for my early marriage. 1 bore all jests and taunts with calmness. I encouraged tny heart with hopes of better ciays— that ure long the sun would shine once more on us who were now in darkness— that its rays would once more enter mymiserible dwelling; now it was pain and suffering. I awoke— I was rich, and 1 thanked Providence." Sireiy dreams convey some truth. S. P. TO CORRESPONDENTS. than we shall ever be able to meet. This at once proves how futile every attempt must be to outrival that giant of cheap literature " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES ; AND PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE." Anxious as our numerous, ( we might almost venture to say innunjeiable; subscribers are aware we are to offer ihem nothing but what is really good, and wholesome, genuine; and of the most sterling quality, we are certain Ihey will excuse us for intruding thus tar upon their time in the columns of this Journal, to speak a few words iu favour of our Companion. " Liotfto's COMPANION TO THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES," will be tound to be a com- panion to everybody, and in every situation tor the young and the old, tor ihe grave or the gay; an intellectual companion in the solitary ramble, aud a companion pos- sessing' au iiiexoaustible iund of amusement f,. r ihe dreary winter's ev, ning. Although we have before stated it will be perfectly distinct from this pacer, the library of tbe reader will most certainly not be complete without both, and when tiie trifling price of it is leiaembeied, it is not Very probable that many of our Subscribers will neclect to secure to themselves so exteusive a fund of entertain- ment. Having considered it advisable to1 make known the claims which our Companion has to support, without making any remarks upon this Journal, which would be supetfluous. it heing fitmly established on the rock of public admiration, we shail conclude our observations. ERNNESTINE DE LACY I OR, THE ROBBER'S FOUNDLING. BY THB AUTHOIT OF " K'. A, TBK OUTCAST," BTC. ( Continued from our last.) 3. W. C. shall appear. G. BESWICK.— We will endeavour to find them, and give them immediate insertion. We have no uish lo become acquainted with " A PERSON UNKNOWN;" WE, however, advise him to purchase a LINDLEY MURRAY, and V YSE'S spelling- book. Our old Correspondent, S. P., shall be immediately at- tended to. ROSALINA AND EMILY," is under consideration. G. I'.-— TF'E stated distinctly in our last week's paper, that all communications that were accepted, and did not find their way into " THE PENNY SUNBAY TIMES," would appear in the COMPANION" to that Journal. " THE SHIPWRECKED MARINER," is declined. G. B. ( Portsmouth.) The question is a very silly one; of course they are no Ictger convicts when they have served their full time, and no such restrictions can be placed upon them any more than upon any other of her majesty's subjects. " To MY FRIEND;" A. W. FISHER; " GUISEPPE," and " ALPHA," are accepted. " ALPHA" and J. S.— We have not yet decided. It. W. L., and F. G., will not exactly suit. " ELI, THE J EH-,*' is under consideration. We, are sorry we cannot enter into any arrangement ofthe kind with E. BROWNE. " DON JUAN." ( Bristol.) If MHS. PEVIERS charged for the, presents that have at different times been given with this Journal, she acted very dishonestly ; Out we must say, that any person must be very foolish to be so imposed upon, we having so frequently stated the fact . in our paper, and taken particular pains in our columns lo point out that our presents are gifts in every sense of the word. The CROSS READINGS by E. D. C. ROLWICK, will not suit. J. C K.— Respectfully declined. A TRUE TALE," by A. M. N, does not possess sufficient interest for our columns. R. B. is thanked. We should be glad to see the tale. T. PYKGRAHI.— We cannot say. " THE VICTIM OF SEDUCTION" certainly will not be published in this paper. We are very glad to hear again from C. W. WHITE. All communications to be addressed ( post paid) to the Editor ot THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, 231, High- street, Shoreditcli. THE PENNY PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. DREAMS. Dreams, perhaps, are intended to teach useful lessons. For my own part, I frankly confess that much of the happiness I have experienced in the different stations of life in which I have been placed, has been produced by serious reflection on the subject of several of my dreams. " When I entered life I was poor. I wished for wealth and honour, because with these alone I believed came happiness. In my dreams I fancied 1 was a mighty and powerful king— tyranny wus in my every aci, and vigour in my every demand. I rewarded no good deeds— I praised none — applauded none— I blamed and abused all— 1 punished petty sins wilh death. Destruction was unmercifully dealt on my slauderers and traducers. I was feared, but despised — my people 11embied at, but abhorred me. I^ cainu- d crime, while I lived to destroy il-^- l created' vices, while 1 wished to ezteim. inu. te them. The scene snifted,— 1 saw myself surrounded with spies and tiultors— 1 was encompassed on eve y side bv enemies — by hired as- a- sins, wi'ose angry swords cried out tor vengeance— whose ihirsty blades longed for my blood. Now I shuddered— I saw my end was near— my dis- severed head would be kicked from street . to street, The remarkable and unprecedented gift with which the readers of this paper were last week presented, has caused one of the most extraordinary sensations ill the literary world ever known, not only for its magnitude, but for the novelty, variety, beauty, and thrilling interest of its contents, " Wonders will never cease," says the old adage, but certainly, it must be acknowledged that the greatest wonder which has for some time astounded the public, is the circumstance of two papers, the size of the Daily Times, being sold for One Penny ! ! It any- thing were wanting to convince the public of our deter- mination to eutitle ourselves to the immense popularity we have obtained, we are confident that this unparalleled event in the annals of literature, undoubtedly would be more than sufficient. " LLOYD'S COMPANION TO THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE," NO. 2 ot which was presented GRATIS, last week, to the purchasers of this paper, was got up at a cost amounting to no less than three hundred and twenty- five pounds! To furnish the conients, three of the most eminent authors of the day were engaged ; it contained three powerful original con- tinued romances, namely :—" BLANCHE, OR, THE FEAR- FUL MYSTERY OF THE DOOMED HOUSE;" " THE MIL- LER'S MAID;" and " ANSF. LMII, THE ACCURSED; OR, THE SKELETON HAND;" " THE DEEDS AND DOINGS OF THE DARK HOUSE;" theuramatic tale, now pel forming with triumphant success at the Royal Pavilion Theatre, called " EMILY FITZORMOND; OR, THE DESERTED ONE," I beautiful original nautical romance ; about a dozen other interesting articles, and three 8; lendid Engravings. l'nose persons who weie not fortunate enough to pui- ctiase No. 77 of this paper, have lost a treat of the inos> costly and intellectual description ever offered to the public, and that fur nothing. No less a number has been circulated than Two Hundred and Seventy- five Thousand, and the demand for them is still much greatei Ulric was true to his appointment with Lord Ray- mond, aud the latter, accompanied by Sir Egbert de Courcy, departed together, the'r followers making their way iu small parties, and by different routes, to prevent suspicion. They all met at tbe same time at the ap- pointed spot, anil Ulric was already looking among the trees near the moUnd on Which the Parricide's Sione stood, disguised as before, in a monkish dress, " Thou art faithful to thy promise, stranger," observed Lord Raymond, " and thou see.- t that we are prepared. But tlion dost not mean to deceive us ?" " It tliott doubtest me. Lord Raymond," replied Ulric. " return. Thou little deemest tne risk I run in seeking to serve thee, or thou wouldst not doubt me." " P avion me, stranger, il I have wronged thee," said I Lord Raymond ; " I will trust thee." '' Follow me, then, immediately,'' said Ulric, " we have not a moment to lo « e, even now, Osmond bears thy sister to the altar, to force her to become his bride." " The daring miscreant!" cried Lord Raymond, " 1 will " Silence !" cautioned Ulric, interrupting him, " there may be those not far off, who riiight overhear us, and then all would he lost. Are all thy followers here?" " They are," answered Lord Raymond. " Quick, theH," said Ulric, waving his hand, and bounding up the mound, on which was placed a rude cross, and near it, the Parricide's Stone. I shall want the aid of some of these men, to remove the stone," said Ulric. Several of the followers of Lord Raymond immediately offered their services, and bv their assistance, the huge stoue was removed from its place, and revealed a trap- door. This was raised without any difficulty, and Ulric having brought with him a lamp, by its rays thev beheld a winding gight of steps, which he began to descend, motioning Lord Raymond, Sir Egbert, and the rest to follow. This they immediately did, and ou reaching the bottom, found themselves in a large paved vault, from which three different passages branched. " Let thy men divide themselves; a portion of them following us, and the others taking the other two pas- sages," said Ulric;—" they all lead to the chapel of the castle, aud by this arrangement, they will take the rob- bers by surprise, and by throwing them into confusion, probably accomplish their defeat with much greater ease than they might otherwise be aole to do." " I like thy counsel, strauger," said Lord Raymond, " it shall be attended to." The order was immediately given to the men, who, dividing, took the different passages, being compelled to grope their way along iu the best manner they could, iu the dark, after having received some necessary instruc- tions from Ulric, he then led the way, and Lord Ray- mond, Sir Egbert, and he tremainder of ihe men fol- lowed. Tbe passage which the latter party had taken, was of great length and winding, bui at last they reached the end of it, and then found themselves in au extensive vault. They ascended a flight of steps at the farther end of it, and passed under alow archway into an apartment of stone, aud ihere Ulric pause l, and in a low, cautious whisper, turning to Lord Raymond, said :— " Thou seest yonder door ?" " I do," answeied his lordship, in an equally low voice. " That opens by touching a spring, which thou wilt easily find, immediately behind the altar," said Ulric, " thou wilt, by listening, ascertain the most opportune moment, then rush bodly forth, and tear thy Sister from tbe power of the. robber- chief, and deal destruction upon him and hi* dariHg gang. I must now leave thee; act with determination and caution, and success is certain. Farewell, some time or the other we may meet again " As lie thus spoke, Uiiic made a sign towards the door, and then hurried out by the same wav ihey had come. Lord Raymond and Sir Egbert made a sign to their followers to be silent, and then advancing to the door, perceived tbe spring which Ulric had mentioned, aud listened attentively to learn whether they could hear auy sounds beyond the door. We will now return to Ladv Marguerite, who was borne to the chapel of the castle by ttie robber- chief, whose pas- ions having gained a power above all controul, lie determined to make her his bride, as he had threat ened, on that very night. Blanche followed, ill obedi- ence tn the commands of Osmond, and deeply did she sympathize in the unfortunate fa'e of Lady Mar gnerite, and mentally pray that something might t ike place to prevent it. Had she been aware of the conduit of her husband, how happy she would have been, and how readily could she have formven him for bavins turned ti aitor in a cause upon which the future happi- ness or misery of an innocent, virtuous, aud beauteom female depended. Lights burned upon the altar of the castle of St. Al- wyn, and a venerable- looking man, dressed as a priest was standing ready to perform the unlawful ceremony The lights from ihe altar cast their lumers npon the got hie chapel, and the robust persons and determined countenances of the robbers assembled, and gave to the scene altogether, a singularly wild and romantic ap pearance. Osmond approached the altar wilh his insensible burden in his arms, and as he did so, she recovered, and opening her eyes, looked with a feeling of astonishment and terror upon the objects around her. For a moment her mind was so bewildered, that she had but a vague idea of what had taken place, or in whose power she was, but w ben she beheld Osmond gazing at her with a look of the most ardent passion and impatience, all the danger of her situation in a moment rushed upon her memory, and recovering her firmness, she looked at him with a feeling of the most ineffable hatred and disdain, and en- deavoured to release herself from his hold. Osmond ap- peared to take little or no notice ot Marguerite, and smiled in the most, insinuating and encouraging manner upon her, then turning to ttie apparent prie- t, he said :— " Priest, let the ceremony commence; 1 am impatient of ar, v unnecessary delay." " Oh, hold! holy father! if such, indeed, thou art," exclaimed the maiden, energetically, " 1 warn thee not to perform a ceremony which is unsanctioned by me." " Heed her not," cried Osmond, " it is uiy will that it should be, and 1 will be obeyed. Proceed !" " At thy peril priest!" shrieked Marguerite, struggling to release herself from the hold ofthe ro ber- chiet. " At thy peril, hesitate," commanded Osmund ; " thou knowest me well." The priest began the ceremony, but he had scarcely uttered three sentences, when three blasts upon a bugle were heard; the door at tbe back ol the altar w s thrown open, and Lord Hayniond * nd Sir Egbert, with their followers, rushed foith, and darted impetuously upon Osmond and his sang, whilst the other iwu divi. sums of Lt rd Raymond's men poured forth inlo the chapel, and commenced the deadly work of strile with desperate determinaiion. Sir Egbert and Lord Raymond rushed simultaneously upon Osmond, and he was so com- pletely bewildered and astounded at the unexpected cir- cumstance, that he could offer but a faint resistance ; Marguerite was torn from him by her lover and her nrother, and immediately upon recognizing them, she uttered a cry of frantic delight, aud fainted. Sir Egbert and Lord Raymond resigned their precious charge to the cate of several of their men, with orders to force their way with all possible despatch to the wood, and to yield her up onlj with their lives ; and then directed their attention to the defeat of the robbers, who, havins partially recovered themselves from the con- fusion into which the unexpected attack had thrown them, prepared to resist their assailants with all that reckless bravery, for which they were renowned. " Damnation!" cried Osmond, faming with rase, —" betrayed !— What treachrrous knave hath done this ? Staves !•— will ye suffer our enemies to triumph thus ? Prevent the escape of the Lady Marguerite, or pirrish in the attempt, and punish the daring intruders for their loldness!— On, on, 1 say, for vengeance, and Osmond vour captain !" With loud yells the robbers responded to the calls of their captain, and their companions having forced their way into the chapel, the ba'tle became most sanguinary aud terrific. But, in spite ot the opposition against them, those who had the charge of Lady Marguerite, succeeded in reaehine the secret entrance under the Parricide's Stone, and ultimately made their escape to the Castle ot St. Aswolpli. Dreadful, indeed, was the scene of carnase which pre- vailed in tiie robber's retreat. The curses ot the robbers } the yells of their assailants; the clashing of weapons; the groans ofthe dying, all combined to render the sceue one of the most indescribable horror. The fury of O- ruoud when he beheld his brave but lawless ganu tailing rapidly aiound him, exceeded all bounds, at- d he fousht with a desperation which was al- most irresistible. He engaged with both Loid Raymond and Sir Esbert, and for some time with a skill and bravery, that they could, with the utmost difficulty resist, but wlieti a portion of his gang saw that the enemy were gaining every advantage, and that he must be over- powered, they enclosed him, and forcibly led him from the spot. Heaps of dead strewed the pavement ot the chapel, and tbe blood of th « unfortunate victims flowed in all directions, but the cause of the assailants bore every prospect ofbeintt triumphant. " Comrades 1" cried Osmond, in a voire choked with the most inexpressible rage, " will ye suffer lourselves to> be thus defeated ?— On, cn to them asain ! and rather sacrifice your lives, than yield to defeat!" Quick at the word, rlie robbers once more rallied, and for a few moments, fortune seemed to turn in Jhvir favour, but it was of short duration ; the brave fol- lowers of Lord Raymond and Sir Egbert de Courcy, fought with a brave'iy unparalleled, aud the robbers fell in numbers beneath the blows thev dealt aiound them ; a few minutes, and it appeared evident that the robbers must be defeated, and Osmond and the castle in their power, ' Alien suddenly there was a loud and appalling cry of fire and quickly the flames were seen pouring into the ehaptl iu all directions. Fearful of the consequences, and that they would all be immolated in the si ene ot de- struction, and having succeeded in their principal object, tamely, that of rescuing Lady Marguerite from the po'ver of the robber- chief; Lord Raymond aud his bold coadjutors now turned their direciou towards making their escape, leaving the robber- chief and his gang to their fate. After some difficulty, they succeeded in reach- ing the passages that led to the secret entrance, and finally emerged from the mound. Lord Raymond and Sir Egbert then turned their eyes in the direction of the ili- fai. ed castle, aud beheld it in oue mass of flames, while the appalling shrieks of those it contained, and who were unable to effect their escape from the devouring element, rent the air, and rendered it altogether, a seine of the most awful and impressive description. The following moment, the walls fell with a terrific crash; a dense cloud of smoke and sparks ascended to the heavens, and an immense pile of smoking ruins was all that remained of the once formidable and impregnable Castle of St. Alwyn, which had for so many years, formed the retreat of the robbers. Lord Raymond and Sir Egbert returned their thanks to Heaven for the triumph it had allowed tbem to obtain, and for the preservation of Lady Marguerite, and then bent, their way hastily towards the Castle of St Aswolph, anxious: i / iow whether Marguerite had reached there in safety. CHAPTER XIX. " Amid the bittle's deadly strife, Lorn and deserted now 1 go ; Reckless abont my hopeless life, Since thou bast sealed my doom of woe. Bu> wilt thou drop ttie pitying tear. For he who thought he own'd thine heart; For he who loved thee too sincere, And who ne'er thought from thee to part ?" WORDS cannot express the unbounded gratitude and delisht of Lady Celestine and Erniiestme-, upon the re- storation ot Lady Marguerite, a dozen times at least, they embraced each other, and their tears of thanks flowed so fast, that they were unable to give ut'erance to their feel- ings- There was one circumstance, however, which served to interrupt their pleasure, and iliat was their uncer- tainty as to the result of the affair, and whether Lord Raymond and Sir Egbert de Conrcy would, or would not return in safety, and immediately after tbe men had ce- positrd Lady Marguerite iu the care of her mother, they were despatched to their assistance. T.'- iey met the vic- tors on their way to St. Aswolph, and all returned to- gether asain. We will pass over the scene which fol- lowed ; lansuage must fail to ppurtray it properly, and universal rielisht prevailed in the castle, lor Lady Mar- guerite had made herself, by her amiable manners, uni- versally beloved by every one. No one felt more sincerely glad at the restoration of Lady Marguerite than did our heroine, hut when the for- mer heard ot the conflasration of the castle, and sup- posed destruction of all it contained at the. time, her grief for the terri le and melancholy fate of poor Blanche and her husband, was most unbounded, which feelit g was entered into by her brother, Ernnestine, and all who heard it, when they were made acquainted with the kind manner in which Blanche bad behaved to Marguerite, and the idea she entertained that it was none other than Ulric who had rendered such au inestimable service to them all, by revealing to them a secret entrance to the Castle of St. Alwyti, and had thus rendered their success certain. They nespatched persons to the ruins to mike every enquiry", and to see whether auv assistance could be rendered to tbe sufferers, but not ihe least signs of a human being was tn be seen, and nothing remained of the once formidable edifice, but a shapeless mass of black- ened ruins ; it appeared as if Osmond and the whole of his gang had perished, for the flames had spread with s'icli rapidity, that all means of escape seemed to have been speedily cm off. Lord Raymond and Sir Egbert felt gratified to think that ihey had destroyed those daring marauders who had for so many years infested, ami been the terror of the country, but, at the same time, they could not help pity- ing the awful and untimely fate which it appeared but too evident had befallen Blanche and her husband ; and from the description which Lady Marguerite gave of the latter, they had not the least doubt but that the man to whom they were indebted for their secret admission into the Cattle of Sf. Alwyn. was the same individual. ( To be continued in our next.) CARRICK'S LIBRARY. There is a passage in Dibdin's " Bibliographical Decameron," Vol. III. p. 313, relating to his admi- rable collection, which seems to have attracted little or no attention ; yet it involves a charge of so henious nature, and preferred in so unequivocal a manner, that every one who feels interested about ihe memory of Roscius, must naturally be desirous of seeing it cleared from the imputation cast upon it. The pas- sage runs thus:— Garrick had free access to the library at Dulwich College, founded by Alleyn, and pillaged it without scruple or remorse. He did pretty nearly the same thing with Sir Thomas Hanmer's library. No wonder, therefore, that the Garrick collection, now deposited in the British Museum, presents, at once, » n object of vexation, envy, and despair to the bibliomaniac. The reverend • » riter, we presume, would not have hazarded- so grave a charge without being well ron- vinced of its truth, yet it is lo be wished thai lin had given us his authority for the story. As the matter stands at ). resent, we have merely his simple assertion to induce us lo credit it; and, for our own part, until we see better evidence adduced, we shall take the liuerty of disbelieving it altogether. THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE.' MM* THE ROYAL FAVOURITE. '• M- RJSAI. ROMANCE. ( Continued from our last.) CHAPTER XVI1. SEVERAL davs after the installation of Lfttlv jane and Gilbert at the Tower, they - tcre seated in au aparlute t of the Beaiicliamp Tower, talking over the eve: Is ol the past we k. Jane had ope Iv expressed to Gilherl her utter disgust at Essex's conduct., audit was quite ' apparent that he had entirely los' the slender hold thai he had had on her affections. The queen was much • enraged again t the earl, liutshe received the news of his escape with a secret satisfaction being tuiable to throw off tbe trammel, of her itMieltowcd love, though repeatedly urged to some signal act of vengeance, both by the Countess of Nottingham and Cecil, liord Burghly, his invet rate enemies. Poor, Maud suffered greatly from the effects of Herbert's mnrd r, and bad received permission to return to her native place, away from all objects that would serve • « ' remind Iter of h;.' r Wl- fSted a tacfitn nt; and the Cimntcs of Rutland, Essex's unfortunate wife still remained al court, using her most persuasive powers to o. uain a pardon for the man who had sought to deprive Iter of all happines. on earth her husband. Lady Murray had returned to Scotland with ler hu- band, who was utiahle to obtain a meeting with her a'idufer, the Earl of Southampton, he being otherwise employed, iu a manner Ire- t known to the reader, his ah ettie from court being attributed to some affair of callaiitty, and looked upon as otic of no uiiuual occurrence. " Uabiugton's mysterious di ap- pearance at the time of the earl's e-" cape had rai- ed uneasy snspici > ns in Elizabeth's heart, and the guard around the To ver had he n d uhltd and all precau- tion taken for the prevention of asurpri. e. In addi- tion to this, all those who were su- pected ot favout ing the Catholic cause, were removed from posts of trust, and their places supplied by those who were well known to be the st. ict adbeients of „ he queen. What, however, could picture the violence of her feelings on receiving the seen t information of the Popi- h plot, and the fact that Esse* was to join them tn person ihat very evi n ing. The Countess of Nottnghatn was in ihe roval presence w'. en ' he in bnnation was received, . nd her heart flowed wi, h irium| ih at the agony » h eh h r nn- , conscious r. val underwent at this further defalcation of her Iotop; hut El zabeth's wounded vanity was aroused, ® 2M sh- de'enmined tiiion i' st m vengeance. A bodv of Sold e i s was instantly despatched to Westminster Ahhey, anil she waited with the utmost impatience lor their return. H. r mind being ill at ease, she could not rest in one place, but dismissing her attendants, wandered about the deserted galleries of the Russell and Beaut hamp Towers. Chat c led her to the door i f the chamber in which Jane and Gilbert w re seated, and hearing Voices within, she unconsciously paused to listen. The subject appeared to catch her attention; so, pushing the door a little open, slu; was enab ed to see and hear a l that passed within the apaitment. The Lady Jane wns reclining upon a silken touch, busied abo t some embroidery, and Gilbert, with a lute slutiR round his neck, was seated on the ground at some little distance from her. The conversation was low and earnest; and Elizabeth, as sbe looked upon the downcast eye aud blushing cht ek of the Lady Jane, guessed at once w hat hod been its purport " Tell me, dearest Effie ( for I must always call you so)," said Gilbert, in a voice between hope and I'eir, " can you ever bestow one lond thought on him who has so long and faithfully lov. d von— can you give but the sliehtes' hope for his'drooping heatt to tt ed upon." " Oh, Gilbert," she replied, " talk uot thus. This is neither lime nor place to talk of line. " It is the only fitting opportunity I may ever have, for on your breath depends my future fate. Say ' hat you cannot love me— that my presence gives you pain — aud iu the next instant 1 quit you for ever. Ou the other hand, if there is the most distant lav of hope, 1 will throw mvselt at your feel, atid, hy my constant devotion, fan that little - park of 1 > ve into a fire as in- terne as that which now rages within my own breast, and my life shall be spent iu your service, a willing and au eager slave; but yoa avert vour face, aud I am re- duced to the lowest depths of despair. Fool i madman, that 1 was, t.. think that the daughter of one of Eng- land's proudest nobles— a Talbot— could love aud wed with a base- born mechanic. Oh ! that ynu had con- tinued as the lowly Elfii', or that these eyes bad ' never aeheld thee. Farewell, Lady Jane," he exclaimed, in mournful accents, and rising to leave the room " Fare- well. My sword shall earn me a welcome exit from a world in wh ch I have no longer anything to live for." " Gilbert!" said Jane, springingfron\ her s at, and catching him by the arm, the tears trickling from her eyes, " you have conquered me. I will no longer be tbe titled dame; hut, giving up all empty honours and distinctions, live only lor you, whose honest heart is far above those of the sparkled fluiterers that grace this court." den and fatal assault. The garrison takeh by surprise, aud overcome by numbers, had been easily overcome, and KsseX was now master of tl e Tower. Gilbert saw all this with the utmost astonishment and indignation, arid his loyalty to his sovereign overcame his >' eelings of Paired to the woman. The stone of the facii g of ihe window was loose ; so, tearing it fiom its plac , he hurled it with violence towards the spot where the triumphant Essex stood. His aim, in the excite* mi nt, f the moment, was not correct, and it fell within a few lee of the earl, strik ng to the ground an archef who stood near him. Before he could relreat from tbe window, Essex per- ceived bim, ami uttering an unearthly sbout of tri umpli, he called to his scattered retainers, and riisbed towards the entrance of the Towter. The then, eilrageij tt ihe death of tlVeir to'Mrade, eagerly followed him, parting for " revenge, and their blow- were soon h- aril ill al temp mg tl, force the outer d or. Gilbert looked in despair to where Jane had stood, but she bad famted through larm, and lay setiseii's; dVi the floor. He raised her, and placed her Up\> b a touch ; and then, by t e greatest effort-, of which be was capable, forcing open the teft& inb r- door, which Elizabeth had fastened " ti her departure, adopted the ouly alterna ive that presented itself, that of disputing inch by inch, and yielding, only with life, the narrow and winding stair which communicated with the basement. The rebels, actuated by revenge, sooil forced an en- . ranee, and confidently crowded up ihe staircase; but they had not proceeded many sifeps, ere the foremost '' tie, ottering a shrink of agony, fell upon those in the rear, the ^ blood spouting from a deep wound iu the bre& s'. This sudden check brought them to a stand, arm it was with the utmost difficulty that Essex could urge tliem to continue the ascent. Torches were fixed up u pike<, and hy their light the figure oi Gilbert was discovered, his sword flashing in the dull r< d glare, and commanding, ly his position, all communication with the upper part of the tower, there being only suffi- cient room for one person to ascend at at a time. Again a soldier fell beneath Gilbert's death- dealing sword, and a third soon met the same fate. Overcome with terror, the remainder fell back; and Essex, not choosing to encounter his adversary on so unequal a footing, soon followed their example- As soon as the last had gained this tourt- yard, Gil- bert returned to the room & he- e he had left J ne, aud found her partly recovered, but still greatly alarmed. " My dt'lir Jane," he said " calm your fears; they have already ret red, and succour will soon arrive. Meanwhile, I will barricade the head of the staircase wilh ti is furniture, and shall thus be enabled to hold hold out against any force they may bring." But Gilbert was disappointed in his conjectures. In a few moments ftnewed shouting was heard, aud vo- lumes of smoke rolled up the stairs, filling the apart- ment almost to suffocation. " The Holy Virgin protect us !" exclaimed Jane, clasping her i ands imploringly. " They have fired the place, and ho hope of escape is now left us. ' Twere better to perish in the. se devouring flames than to fall iuto his power." " Nay, Jane, it must not be so. No time must be lost in leaving this place, aud I wiil endeavour to cut my way through them " As lie spoke, he caught Jane in his arms, and rushed down the stairs, which were now burning fiercely, aud many of the lower ones cracked beneath his feet. Oil gaiiung the bottom, scorched and nearly blinded, his appearauce was hailed with cries of triumph, and sever il of them threw themselves upon him. Encum- bered as be Was with tlie senseless Jane, for she had again fainted, lie was unable to disengage himself, and vvas on the point of b iug thrown to tee ground, when the voice of Essex, who for the first time became aware of the presence of Jane, exclaimed :— Harm not a hair of that lady's head at the peril of your lives, knaves. Secure this man, and then conduct her to the Bowyer's Tower, there to await my pleasure. Away." His orders were soon obeyed, and Gilbert's arms bound tightly behind his back. A rude litter was formed lor jane, and they wete on the point of moving away, when aery of " D iwn with the accursed iebels I" was heard behind them, and the insurgents were seen flying in every direction befo'e a large body of armed citizens, guatds, and retaisers of the Protestant nobles, beaded by Lord Stair, the Lieutenant of the Tower. Essex turned pale as he marked this sudden change m affairs; but, placing his prisoners in the centre of his party, seemed determined rather to part with life than with them. The instant S'air perceived him, he hastened to the attack, and the hottest part of the fight soon raged round the spot where the dark raven's plume on Essex's crest towered above Iiis men. The flames arising Irani different parts of the Tower renderrd it almost as light as day. and added to tbe horrors of ( he scene. Fresh numbers still poured upon the devo'ed liitle band, and still they fought with the reckless energy of desperate men. One by one they were cut down, until but a few remained ; and then, and not till then, did Essex think The ruddy steel ascehded high in air. and fell with a dead hea y blow on the breast of the old man. A gus't of blood followed, and lie rolled senseless on the ground. " V llain !", exclaimed Gilbert, rushing forward, " thus to rjiurder a defenceless man." ±> ut the stranger had fled on the first sound of Gil- bert's voice, and he found himself alone with the bleed- ing body of the murd. red Jew. He looked around him in alarm, for lie feared that, if he should be found by any ol the watch in that situation, he might be accused of tbe murder. No one, however, appeared, so, holding the lantern to his face, he examined bis f « itures. To his surprise he ifiCognized ill them the lineaments of an old friend of his father's;, called jacoli Levi, and one Who, In his eatly youth, had taken a greit, atid. ttf bim, unaccotin ab e interest, in his welfare. About a year before the period at which this tale commences^ he had suddenly disappeared, arid no tidings hSd slnCe hten heard of bim. Enquiry had been mad£ in different places to which he hud been used to resort, both for business or otherwise, but nothing had been heard of him, aud the search was at length given up in de- spair, suspicion being entertained th t he had mat with foul play from some powerful noble, who stood in- debted to him for pecuniary assistance. What, under these circumstances, could equal Gil- bert'- surprise at finding him stretched at his f et, appa- rently a lifeless Corpse, and bleeding from a wound inflicted by the hatid of lawless violence. He examined him w tii the greatest Attention, ailil fancied tjjit he could discern s mptonls of retufniiigaiiimat'dn. Placing his hand on his breast, he fell his hei) rt faintly healing beneath; aud, with newly awakened hope, lie raised bim from the ground, tore open his vest, and staunched tlie wound with ihe greates' care. His exertions were ctowned with success, and, in a few rtoments, the Jew opened his eyes. As lie slowlv recovered his senses, his hand wandered unconsciously to his turhau, and he murmured to himself, ' I will keep niv oath." " What meah you, good Jacob ?" asked Gilbert, in a gentle tone of voict, " And who art thou ?" exclaimed lie faintly, and re- coiling from his touch ; " who ait ll| oh, who callest on the Jew Jacob by name ?" " fen yOu not know me?" said ( Jlhert, aeairi ap- proaching him; " I am Gilbert, the son of Philip, your old fried ofthe Eleemosynary." " The God of Abraham be thanked!" fervently eja- culated the Hebrew, as his fading sight caught a view of Gil ert's features by tne faint light of the lantern, " 1 shall ye', keep ray oath. His ways are inscrutable. He is God over ail. It is most wonderful, boy, that thou should be here. Lite is ebbing fast, and I have yet a task to perform which must be dote. He who slew me sought to ohtain possession of these papersand he dre v a large packet of parchmen's from beneath the folds of his tut bah. " Take them— secret them quickly, or he may come again— they interest thee deeply— and —" his voice ceased, his strength failed, and he fell to the ground— he was dead. Gilbert stood for some lime lost in astonishment, and was gazing alternately upon the papers and the body of Jacob, when he was aroustd by the sound of footsteps approaching. Hiding the papers iu his bosom, he turned hastily rouud, and beheld the figure of the stranger hastening lo the spot. ( To be continued in our next.) .' , , , i i j hi j o- iu . r u-„ of surrendering, and bis sword was received by Lord Am 1 awake, or do I dream ?" said Gilbert, folding Staip . fr„ m admiration I 1hl< her in his arms " Can it be possible that I should be deemed worthy to possess such a tieasure?" aud over- come by emotion, he was unable to utter another syl- lable for some moments. " But we must leave this court," he couli'ued at last; " for when the Lady Jane becomes the wife of the lowly Gilbert, the chaser, this will be no place for her." '• Wher, ver her husband is, there will Jane be happy," was the gentle replv; " but the queen," she continued, " is choice in these matters, and if she withholds her con- ent to our union " " Why, we must e'en do without it," added Gilbert, gaily. As he uttered these words, Elizabeth threw the door wide open, and, in the next instant, stood before the astonished and abashed lovers. " I have been an involuntary listener," she said, with asperity, " to a greater pari " of your conversation, aud am much indebted to yru for the great value you h ve set on my consenting to your union ; but know, young man, you shall set feel my power, and the Cout tess of Shrewsbury shall uot, at her utmost peril, degrade her- self bya marriage wi'h a menial." " N , v, madam," said G'lbi rt. imploringly. « ' Not a word, returned Elizabeth, impatiently; " I hive taken mv resolution, and ' re many minutes have eiapsed, the Bell Tower shall have received fresh in- mates." " And by what authority, madam," asked Jane, her eyes glowing with a sudden energy, " do you thus dic- tate to us ?" " By the authority of one who has the power of per forming what she wills " was the reply oi El'zabeth, as she advanced towards the door. " Your parting must be brief, for I shall return instantly, to escort you to your lodgings;" and she left the room in search of her guards, fastening the door behind her, before the lovers could recover from their astonishment. They gazed at each oilier for some moments in fear- ful silence, which was at length broken by Jane ex- claiiniu :— " On, Gilbert! must we then part ?— must the will of this arbitrary woman tear me from the only frieud I have on earth ?" " By Heaven! it shall not be so," said Gilbert, draw- ing his sword. " Sooner shall tliey tear me piecemeal, than separate me from thee." * " Nav, dear Gilbert, thy violence will endanger thy life, and what, then, have I to live for. The queen may yet relent, aud we may still he happy." " There is but slight hope of that," replied he, gloomily; " I have wounded her vanity too deeply to hope for pardon. But l ark ! what shout was that that sounded through the Tower ? — and tlie report of fire arms ? Surely it cannot be an attack upon tbe Tower. Nay, tremble not so, Jane," be continued, as sl. e clung to him, in alarm, for protection ; " frothing can harm thee here." Loud cries of victory, mingled with groans and exe- crations, and the report of arquebuses, culverins, and petrouels, now resounded In every direction ; and Gil- bert, prompted by curiosity, looked from tbe window of the room, to ascertain the cause of. the uproar. It looked directly upon the outer wall; and what could equal bis surprise, on beholding tlte figure of Essex, cov red with blood aud dirt, tearing the royal standard from the walls, and raising in its place that of Maiy Stoart. Numbers lay dead around him ; aud his re tamers, with those of Southampton aud Salisbury, were busied in firing different parts of the building, anil also in directing the cannon against the lofty walls of the White Tower, in which Elizabeth, with the guard sbe had intended to conduct Jane and Gilbert to the Bell Tower, had taken refuge ou the first notice of the sud- Stair in respectful silence, from admiration at this almost supernatural courage. Gilbert's bonds were iu- tantly cut; and Jane, under a new escort, conducted to a safe retreat, Lord Stair turning to other quarters which required his presence. Gilbert accompanied him, and his sword was tnat night always foremost ill i idding the Tower of the enemies oi his sovereign. The royalists, flushed with success, fol- lowed up their advantage, aud long before dawn the r bels were entirely defeated, many being thrown from the ramparts into tbe moat, or cut to pieces by the swords of ibeir victorious opponents. Tneir success too, was rendered more complete bv the capture of two of the leaders of the rebellion- Essex and Babington— both of whom were safely lodged in the dungeons of the llevilin Tower, Service was performed in St. John's Cbapel, to render thanksgivings for safe delivery Irom the Papists; and alter looking to the defences ot the garrison, and placing sentries in every part which was liable to assault, the garrison again sank iuto a state of comparative tranquillity. Gilbert made several attempts to see Jane, hut was informed that she was in safety, and that the queen had given positive orders lor bis dismissal frotn the pre cincts of the Tower, and which orders Lord Stair saw oheyeil in person. He turned from tke gates with a heavy heart, and as he looked back on the place which held Ihe only treasure he had on earth— one who loved hiin for himself alone— his desola< e condition recurred to his mind, and lie paused to consider which way to turn bis steps. He recollected an old friend of his father's, who kept a small tavern near Tothill Fields, and thither he determined to proceed, resolving, if he coul. i not obta; n a meeting with Jane in a few days, to embark for the low countries, and there, in the cha- racter of a free lance, to linger out his weary existence. With this intention, he pioceeded rapidly down Cheapside without interruption, the streets being again quiet, and no one visible, with tbe exception of a sleepy- guard he e and there, who, on. Gilbert's replying satis- factorily to his challenge, a'lowed him to pass unques- tioned. Entering the Temple by the eastern gate, he made directly for the centre court, and had nearly reached the middle of it, when a low, piteous voice, begging for mercy in the most imploring tones, struck his ear, apparently proceeding from a dark alley on his right. Ever alive to the dictates of humanity, he drew his sword, and hastened towards the spot. By the light of a small lantern which stood on the ground, and which seemed to belong to one of the party, Gilbert beheld tne form of the mysterious stranger, differing not in the slightest degree from bis former appearance, but bran- dishing a flashing dagger over the p ostrate body of an old Israelite, from whom the appeals for mercy pro- ceeded. " Dog of a Jew '." exclaimed the stranger, " give up the deeds peaceably, or I will tear them irom thee by force." " Oh, most worthy sir," supplicated the Jew, " in mercy spare me." " Silence, wretch," returned the stranger, " I will hear no more. Give me the papers, or receive this dagger in thy heart." A •' I have sworn that thou shalt not possess them whilst I have life," replied tin- Jew, suddenly changing bis tone id' entreaty to one of desperate determination, " and I will keep my oath." " Aud wha' will that avail thee, dotard7 Cau I not obtain them by force ?" " 1 will keep my oath," murmured the Jew, almost unconsciously. " Then take the reward of thy obstinafy," rash fool, shouted the stranger, furiously.. THE BANDIT'S ftEVENCE. BY JAMES TURNER. AUTHOR OF " THK GSL. LANT. MMOOGT. KFT," " THE BLACE PIRATE," ETC, PART I. THE INSULT.— THE NUPTIAL DAY.— THE INTERVIEW.— THE VOW OF REVENGE.— THE DEPARTURE- " HARK ye, comrades, ' tis my intention to make Count Vincent de Ilaiinondl my prisoner to- night," exclaimed a tall, stout, tierce, looking man, named Qaentjn la Marck, the captaiu of a desperate gang of bandits, who were all carousing round a large table before a bUzlllg fire, " To- night, captain?" asked Stephano, one cf the bandits In surprise. " Aye, to- night." replied la Marck; " and why didst thou ask that, question?" " Because, captain," returned Stepbano, " I should think that wert- you to wait another month or so there would be more chance." " And why so ?" enquire 1 la Marck. Because your late attempt has put them on their guard, and tSvey are, no doubt ready to repel whatever force you may brlog against t em ; and were you to wait a little time longer, they would fancy themselves secure, and then you could attack them nith much greater certainty and more chance of success.'' " Peace, thou babbler," reared la istarck. with a voice choksd with rage ; " iho- i art always ready with' thy cowardly insinua- tions, but, nevertheless, J. am determined, and, therefore, com radtss, three hours frotn this time you set fouh to take the count, fir he lives not to see to- morrow's dawn." " Not if I can help it, though," muttered Stephauo # o himself. " What in that you say ? ' ci i d la Marck''. " I say it wl 1 serve iiim right." returned Stephano, with a smile " Aye, so think I," exclaimed Rolando, a' other bandit. " I fancy he will lie, when hung on one of the highest trees iu the fores,*, a good piece of food for the ravens. Ha I hat hal" " Hal ha! 1ml" laughed several; " very good, indeed, Rolando " Aye, arid as he is married to- day, he little thluks his young wife is to be a widow to- morrow," said the bandit captain, laugh. Ingly. " Captain," asked Stephano, finding la Marck was once more ' n a good temper," as I have a little ilouot of our success, allow me to rliaguise myself, and go to the castle, and see if the guards are doubted." " You may go If you like, only return as soon as possible, plied la Marck. " I shalt be here in less than an hour," returned Stephano, as he quitted the cavern. We must now necessarily detain the reader whilst we inform him ot the cause of enmity between the tiandtttt and the count. On the t'ortlers of au extensive forest in. Ardennes, Champagne, there resided, in a noble castle, a wealthy obi ltall n nobleman, hy name Count Bolardo Kalmondl, father of Count Vincent de Ral- mondl, who was his only child. The old count had always been an enemy to Q . ientin la Marck, who was tbe captain of a despe- rate band of banditti, who infested the forest, and for whose head large rewards were offered, ' file old count '- mi his retainers had frequently fought with La Marck and his band, tint never could e. pture him, owing to the desperate courage of his m- n, who fought like tigers. At length in a desperate engagement wilh them, the oid count received a wound, ot which In* soon after ex- pired, leaving the young count, then in his eighteenth year, heir to his estates, Tbe young count swore to his lather on his death lied to ba revenged ou La Marck; ami soon alter, lie, with his retainers, attacked La Marck, as he wan returning from one of his plundering expeditions. Both sides fought desperately for nearly an hour, and al length La RIarck, and those ot his band who vvere able, retreated, closely followed by the count, but they succeeded in reaching their cavern, where all attempts to dislodge them would have been useless. La Marck, stung with rage at the loss ot about thirty of his men, determined, as soon as he coubl raise mere men, to a taek the counts castle; therefore, collecting all the worst possible characters he could find in France and oihcr places, he seen had nearly au hundred men under ills cenimand. Twelve mourns had now elapsed since La Marck's defeat by the connt, when early one morning he sallied out against Ralmondi Castle, which he attacked, but, after a desperate battle, he was again defeated, and obliged lo retreat, but not unill he had lost more than halt his men. This defeat drove h( m almost to man. nefla; und hearing lhat the count was to be married In a lew days, he resolved 10 surround the cas le. and set it on lire, and then to massacre the inhabitants, thinking that it being the count's wedding. day he would allow his guards a holiday; but in this be was mistaken; but In order to ascertain it' such vvas the case, he sent Stepbano as a Bpy. ****** It vvas a gay and happy evening, in the splendid hall of Rai- mouili Castle, for it ivaa the evening of the day on which the nuptial rites had been performed between Count Vincent de ttal- tnondi and tlie young and beauteous Madulihe, daughter of th Due lie Neoionrs. Tbe hall was splendidly Illuminated, and wreaths and garlands of the choicest fio. vers decorated its walls, ' t he friends of both families were present, and presented a throng wt joyous, happy, and merry faces; the bands struck up the most netlgbttul airs & c., as they gaily tripped " the light tantastic tue," when a ser- vant approached the count, and drawing him aside, informed him thai a person, iu the garb ot an old Jew, was waiting to speak with him, and th, t he must see him immediately. The count, atter api. logtstng to his britle and the company tor leaving them ti. lleWuli ihe servant to the ola Jew, who immediately on obscrv. ing tbe count, desired to speak with him in private. For that purpose the count immediately led him into a small apartment aside, where they seated themselves. Connt Raimondl.'' exclaimed the old Jew, for so we must at present call him, '* you may, peihaps, be surprised at the intru- sion ot one, who, a stranger to you, should thus presume to deter jou from mingling in the gaiety and leslivity of your bridal day, but that which I have to communicate to you must be resolved ou Immediately, as it concerns your lite; therefore, now to be, in. You are well aware, Count Ruimondi, that you have a raaficious enemy in the person of Qoentin la Marck." " I know It;— what, tnenf" asked the count. " why," resumed the Jew, " iu consequence of the last defeat which La Mi. tck received from you, he lias ever since that time been devising stratagems of one kind aud the olher In order to be revenged ou you. At length, bearing that to- oay was to be your brl tal day, he farmed a plan, which is. that to- night, as soon as it Is dark, he will bring all his band, and hide in the thick foliage around your castle, a,, d then disguise two or three of them, who are, by sum,- me ns or ether, to get near enough to Lbe castle, in outer to set tire to it, and then to rush in among you aud mas- sacre e| L" •' Ah! the villain," cried tbe count, as he started from off his seat, R| but 1 will take care tils plans shall be lolled." Hut slay, Count Raimonlii, 1 have not quite finished," re- sumed the Jew; " in order to be successful, you must listen to me a few minutes. To- night, as soon as it is dark, you ami ynur guards must hasten ou the road which leads to our cavern, and- before you reach the cross- road, ygu will perceive a white icarf hanging from the bough of one of the trees, which you must take down, and hide yours, if and yonr guards behind the foliage there, and you will soon hear the footsteps of tli.' bandit. La Marck, and his band ; and as soon as he arrives at your hldltig- plaee. I will be th. re and as soon as you hear a VoJce exclaim. La Marck. your time is come,* you muBt rush from yafir hiding- place, and attack them, bnt not ftsrgettlng first to secure La Marek. Now, Count Haimondl, my mission is ended ; and if you value your own life, and the lives of your bride and friends, you will obey the instruc- tions f have given you, and as quickly as possible, for a delay is dan.' eronS. 1 must, uow return towards the cavern." ' Bnt stay," exclaimed Connt Ralinondf, " pray inform me who thou art, that thus trouhlest'fhySeif to save the life ot one who is a stranger to youf" " eount Rsl • otidi," returned tbe old Jew, " if you really desire to know who I am, I will Inform yon. Dost tbosi particularly wish to know ?" " I do," answered the count. " Theti thy Irish Is gra ined," exclaimed the pretended Jew, as he arose I rem Ids sSat, and throwing off his disguise, presented tt? the astonish d eodnt one of La Marck's band. •' 1 am," resumed the bandit, after a few moment's silence, " Stephano, one nf La March's hated band." The count, In sufjjrise, Started from his seat, and drew his sword, " There is no need of that, so you ttllty ptff thaf « p again," ex- claimed the bandit; " 1 come, Count Rat'moildi, fn pftcv, hot in enmity." " Pardon me," returned the count, " but the surprise of the moment occasioned my unsheathing my weapon; " but npvy I hope yon will not depart until you have related to me the reason of your thus turning against yeur band In order to save me." " My reason for so doing Is this," answered the bandit. " Know- ing the plans La Marck intended to adopt towards y. ou, I was determined to save the life ef him who preserved mine; there- fore-^—'' " Freserved yonrs ;— how ?" interrupted the count. " Khi preserved ndfie; but I perceive you have forgotten It; therefore I will relate the circumstance to you," ejaculated the bandit. " You may, perhaps, recollect. Count Raimondl, that s ane few years since, whilst riding through a forest in. Itufy, that \ uu heard cries for help proceeding from a dense part cf the wood, and upon your arriving on the spot, you observed a y. ung man, with his back against a tree, res lufejy defending himself against the attack of two banditti, who had almost overcome Kim, as you arrived on the spot, but who, on perceiving you, attacked tllem with redoubted fury, and, with your assistance, soon lelled them to the ground." ' I recollect tbe circumstance well," returned the count. ' Well. Count P. almr. nrii, lo finish my story, I am the person Whose life you saved.' still the bandit. Tee count was struck dumb With astonishment for some time; but, at length, he exclaimed:— " Is it possible; then how Is It that you have tfuvs become the companion ot Infamy and crime ''' " VV hy. Count ttalmonrli," returned the bandit, " my talc is short t when you saved my life, i was fhe possessor of immense e- tatcs, but I lost it all at ihe gambling table, and vvas bftpenwi- tesa antl friendless, to wander the earth. I had Srtei ty of friends whilst I had money; but as soon as ( hat was gone, wiy friends were gone; aid when I applied at their doors for relief, I was Snuriied a, say, and left to wander the iace of tiie earth a vaga- bond and an outcast. Fin ling I Ceuld excite no compassion in the breasts of those who OBce called themselves shy friends, I left my father- land with disgust, and bade asWeu to Italy. 1 trayelleii from thence to France, where I soon heard of La Marck's daring career, anil being naturally fond of danger, I resolved to join Ills band, which I accordingly did. I stood by his side in every danger, and many are the blows which my sword has kept off. which would have proved fatal to him. Yes, ft was I that have often rlski- d my lile to save his, and yet bow has he repalo rtle?— with insults, and malting me the laughing- stock of my comrades'; bttt yet be shall linrt that in StepteanO, the Italian, he has an enemy, Who will never re- t u,' til his sword has pierced his heart. Liitle dees he think this" whilst on the road to deBtroy another, lie will he de- stroyed himself, ha I ha! ha! LaMatckl Stephano has not for- gotten thy insults, and soon thou wilt know what is the bandit's revenge, bal hal hat The bandit, completely overcome by bis feelings, fell back in his seat senseless, but with the assistance of tiie count, he at leugth recovered. " Compose thyself, Stephano," exclaimed the count, " all will yet end well, but tie lime draws near; you had better return, or, perhaps, they will suspect all Is not right." " So 1 was thinking " returned Stcphauo, as he arose from hi. s seat, snd resumed his disguise' " Now, Count Italmondl," exclaimed Stephano, as lie turned to leive the room, " remember tbe white sash near the cross roads, and remember the signal of La Marck. Thy time is come, again, 1 s. ae ; remember, for life and death depend on it." " Fear not, my good friend," returned the count, " bat I shall be at the place at the time appointed. Adieu." The bandit now left the castle, and directed his steps towards the cavern. PART II. Tliey had now reached the cross roads. La Marck, in' a rage . wus about, to draw his sword to attack Stephano, when the latter,, with a sadden hound, rushed upon I, a Marck, and seizing him by' tbe arms, he cried aloud, " La Marck, thy lime is come;" where immediately a rustling was heard among the fpfage, andCo- jnl* ItaV' " flip and a band of Ills retainers rushed forward and secured1 La Marck. whifst he loudly called for help! The Sandltll, vvlV had gone forward, hearing tbe < rles. turned back, aisd were met by Count Kaimrmdi and bis retainers, and a time battle ensued. For some time the banditti resolutely stood ' heir ground, hist, at length, the determined charges of tiie retainers threw I heel iuto nlsorder and confusion. The retainers now rushed among'them,, and cut and hewed them down on all sides, until thev were all either stfstched on the ground, or taken prisoners. The Ce'lot' now returned to La Marck, whom be had left in the care of some' ot his retainers, and vVho, foaming with rage, was swearing v, si:-' geani- e on Stephana. " Quentln. La Marek," exclaimed Count Itnimondi, " vou are my pr soner, and before long I wiii deliver you over to take your tlmd by those laws which you have so greatly violated." " It fsxreil for you, Conor Raimondl," exclaimed La Marck, " that I am your prisoner; for bad it not b- en lor the traitor, St'.' phai. O, ypn would have by this been hanging ppon one - of. the highest trees fa this forest e* tood for the; raven." 41' fifed'Ti'appy am I to see.' returned the'count, " that your fondest hopes are frustrated; ' hut, soldier?, we must now return t'o tlte lactic, lot- our friends are eex'msly expecting n*. Forward, Wittier*; but sta., where is S| ephanqf" " HoMoa I" shouted a voice at a distance. u TMafli he," crie'i a soldier to ffte count. fHephs'rto came Tllonhi/ td the spot oat of breath. V I Have had a long chase." said he. " after two of them, but I have left them o,- i the ground; lint, whither, Sir CounJ, art thou go ne with. La MarckT' " I intend," returned the count, " to deliver him over to the authorities, and '* " Authorities," Interrupted Stephana; " Sir Count, I claim bins; he is my. property." " And what wouldst thou do with him I" asked the count. " He has long," answered Stepbano, " designated me coward,, but to prove that he bus wronged me, I off. r to fight Mm on this spot, and If I am defeated, be will gain his liberty; therefore. La Marck state! forth. and receive, the vengeance of one whom you have deeply wronged." La Merek suoiy catne forward; a ring was formed by the re- tainer. ; fifei harm arid La Stan k" drew their swords, and' began to- shower the blows fa'st anil furious upon each other. They fsei't on some time, till, at. length, a small stream of blood came trfckllnir down tbe forehead of f/ a Marekv who new wielded his sword Hfce i madman. Seemingly careless as to the eonsequences, Slephawor made a sudden thrust, and, La Hl. aret fell to the earth. He- struggled hard to rise, but vvas prevented by Stephano, who stood over him and cried out:— " Now, you inyinclMe robher, murderer, villain, refute tile charges you have laid against me of a traitor and a coward. I told thee I would be revet get! but I was only sneered at; it Is mv turn now; you have l'. ad, ynur long enough. Now, La Marck." resumed ilie bandit, as lie rased his dagger lo the air, " this stroke ends my revenge tied your life.' - Vie 1 accursed wretch! die I" And with this tie plunged his tiavger into the breast, of La Marck, who, after a lew convulsive sighs, expired. ' Stephano drew forth his weapon, and rs.- ore from th body. " Now, Count Kaicionai." said be, " I have had my revetfve, and this piece of carrion is no more. May Heaven lorglve him h) s crimes, but 1 am satisfied Ihe cause of ray misery is no more. Here, Count Ralmondi,. keep this, and when you look upon it., thlak of one who preserved your lite." Saying this, be handed tile cpunt a small guilt- l ilted da ger, which had been concealed in his vest. " What mean you '" returned the count; " you must not leave me, b, ut return to my castle, where you inky spend the remainder Of your days in peace and happiness." " No," returned Stepltanb, it must not be; your castle's roof shall never shelter a bandit and an outlaw. No Sir Count, my enemy is gone, and I will follow him Adieu. Sir Count; Adieu." He raised his dagger, the count rushed ' - ward, but before he could prevent him, lie plunged the weapon deep Into his breast, and fell to the gr - ubd a lifeless corpse. The count gazed on him; tears filled his eyes, and choked his utterance; lie beckoned to his retainers, who in'merliately lifted the body, mid carrier1 It with tflpm to the cattle, followed by the count broofilng over the events that had passed. They arrived at the castle, aud were met with joy trom their friends ; ' nut on heating the tale, they all pitied tbe fate of the unfortunate Stephario. T^ ve. count soon after had ll el interred with great pomp, aud for the remainder of his lite often thought of his preserver. The count lived to a good old age, respected, esteemed, and beloved by atl vvlio knew him, and died, leaving bis eldest son heir to his immense estates. For many years after, near the cross roads, where the above in- cidents occurred, was held in fear and dread, for it was said that tile sptrits of La Marck and S'rnhano had often been seen en- gaged in combat, and none of the Inhabitants, would pass that spot at night. Thus ends V The Bandit s Reveoge." August 17th, IS4I. Richmond- street, Malda- hill. THE PLAN OP ATTACK,— JOURNEY TO THE CASTLE.— THE BATTLE. — THE COMBAT. — DEFEAT tiff TBS BANDIT CAPTAIN.— DEATH OP THE BANDIT. Revenge is sweet; revenge I've had; My vengeance is appeased; I now am satisfied. ! Jere at my feet lies my oppressor, never more to rise. My hand hath done tbe deed. The long wished for revenge I've bad. My enemy is gone. And I will follow bim." " WHY, comrades, the plan I Intend to pursue is this," ex- • claimed La Murck;—" Rolando, and two ethers of you, are to attiick the sentinel at the north grite, and when you have over, powe'ed him, you must Gre the cattle, ia different places. The instant that is done, give a blast with your horns, and we will rush to the gates and prevent escape." " Bravo, captain, that is reallj an excellent plan," shouted several of the bandits. " And, comrades, rt tried La Marek, " if any of yp « possibly can secure the count, and bring him to me alive, I will reward h m with one thousand crowns; therefore, comrades, for your own sake keep a sharp look out." " You need hot fear but that, we shall do that/' returned Ro- lando; " but, captain, what can have become ot tjtephano ?" '' I suppose he will have plenty ot news f- r us when he returns," said La Marck 5 ". but if he does not return soon, we must go without him." I should scarcely liked to have trusted him on such an errand, as his behaviour of late has coHvinced me that he would not hesi- tate acting the part of a traitor, if opportunity ofi'ecefi, by which he might enrich himself," exclaimed Rolando. •* I ha^ e noticed it frequently." return' La Marck; " but, nevertheless, let a sharp look out be kept oi^ nim whilst we are at the castle, and the ftiotneiit you perceive him . strive by any means to enter the ca. stle, run a sword through his body———" " Which methinkR are rather strict orders," exclaimed 3tephano, who had heard the last few sentences as he. entered the cavern. " H. lloa, Stephaiio, what returned so soon ?" asked Rolando, in an ironical manner. Pr'ythee, my good fellow, where hast ihou been? thou hast been the last three hours performing that which you might have done in half an hour. Again I ask thee, where hast thou b: en ?'* " It matters not to thee where I have been," returned Stephano, trying to' conceal his ragej " It is my captain's place jto question me, and riot thine." 44 Mo more of this," shouted La Marck j " but, Stephano, what has detained th « e so long ?" " Why, captain, I was determined net to return until I had finished my errand; which having accomplished, I made. the best of my way hither,"' returned Stephanp. ' Wei, have you brought any neWs now you have come?" asked La Mttrck. " Yes; there are but few guards on the battlements," returned Stephauo ; " the drawbridge h down, and six armed retainers keep gua; d there." Very good, indeed," exclaimed La Marck; *' then, comrades, our success is certain. But, St. ephano, did you observe how the north gate \ yas guarded ?" " 1 did," answered Stephano. " There was but one sentinel stood there." " And he won't stand there long," laughed La Marck. " Did there appear to be much company about ?" * Whilst I stood there," returned Stephano, " several spleudid equipages drove up to the gates, and the castle was splendidly illuminated." " But not so splend'd as it will be vyh » ? n ' tis in flames, ha! ha! ha!" lauglied Rolando. • " Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the bandits. " Why, RolaHfido," cried I. a Marck, " thou art a regular wit. Now, comrades, up and prepare yourselves, for we must set out instantly." The banditti left their seats, and prepared to arm themselves for battle. ' Hidr swords were sharpened, and their carbines ex- amined and loaded, and everything appeared as though they ex- pected a desperate conflict. La Marck equipped bim self in a suit of Spanish mail; steel helmet, and large black p. uoie, a carbine slung over his shoulder, and a huge two handt'd'awdrd by his side. Iri his demesnou1- he appeared certain ot success, at the same time Juiovving tnat there was gr?& t dangwr ' o be braved in obtaining It. Stephano attired himselt with a thick, steel breast- plate, a black beaver bonnet, <; rr> ainented by a single eaglt-' s feather, a « h'-> rt dagger suspended from his girdle, and a two- edged sword by his sidt". The remainder of the banditti armed themselves with lances, cross- bows, swoids, aiid hatchets. Thus equipped, tht? y all left the cavern to prooeed'. 0 Ruimondi Castle. The night w'ns cold and'damp, the clouds had overspread the horizon, an4 all around was enveloped in impenetrable darkness, tbe thunder roared at a distance, and ever nnd apon a flash of lightning i luinined tiie horizon. La Marck and his band were on the road to Raimondi Castle, the banditti were gone before their captain, who was walking be- hind, with Stephano, whom he continually quesitioned a* to where he had been, wi. at he had been doing, aud - Insult- dug. with the epithets of traitor, villain* coward, and such. like intuits, until, at length, Steph& no, in a rage, tpid him he would repent it when too late. This so exasperate; d La Marck, that he struck him a tremendous blow on the head, which seut him reeling to the giousd. He, ho iv evftr, regained his feet, and kept ciose by the si<. e of La Marck, who continued insulting him. They were now within & short'distance of the t- ross roads, the banditti wer « jh'one on before, and iiad passed . the road. La MnrcK and Ste- phano, who were some distance behind, still catne quarrelling on. " Never mind, captain, I have sto. id thy taunts and jeera long enough, and the time is near at hand," exclaimed Stephauo, " when I will b » revengnxl." " Coward " sneered - La Marck, In a tone of derision, " what dost thou mean?" ' I mean that I have long enough borne thy insults with pa- tience and resignation, but now my arm is nerved for vengeance, and I am now in the temper to destroy a tyrant, a robber, and a murderer. Tremble, La Marck, for tne hour ot retribution is at hand," exclaimed Stephanp. MAN. O, what is man? Thou AU- Sap'eme, Vibrates within my breast— A feebl", crawling worm of e- avtls, More favoured than tha rest. Though but a day his term in clay', ' Tis genial to h's kind, Much better than ten thousand years To be in human kind. It' thy par* presents be his aim, He neeria no other plea^ Than Jesus died iVpon the cross, To ransom sueft ^ s me. His intellectual faeuHi? a Proves that he bears ihe sway;— Behold the brute creationV tHfy Are nearesf to, convey. The fairest prospect we can see In judging for ourselves, Though one, above another rise, As does the sea- shore shelves. To view what little we can scan Of nature wise and good, More pure and more mysterious Behold fair Nature's God! The birds of air, and nsh in sea, And everything that 3 life, Is made for man, and man a boon For the Great Infinite. The beast may hear, and feel, and see, And move and breathe beside ; There's no improvement made by them, Since their first state confide. They are all under man's sole power, An emblem that is clear, To prove that he is favoured By Heaven, tho most sincere. Behold the earth improved by him, The vintage and the field ; Where'er he does his hand employ, ' Twill greater produce yield. The garden, too— how rich, how sweet— That's cultured by his care; Sureiy the blessings on his Ii « ad View his refinement there. Likewise the superb domicile— The tower, the dome, and spire— The city and majestic ship, That fills the breast with fire. Though but a creature, low and poor, The favourite nork agree ; A semblance of his image, too— Lord of Etarnity. Can man himself— himself alone, In single self- array, Perform such vast and useful works As men combined display ? No— he is made for social life— His speech confirms its truth; For counsel swept in fellowship, Instincts a mind uncouth. Man, born a stranger to affairs, Requires a genia/ canr, And nothing is more consonant Than concord heavenly fare. Or why not burn within a lone, Untutored there to rose? But God is right in what he does— Mortals ne'er disapprove. All thi' gs in harmony combine, Above, below ( he sun ; And he fails not, among the rest, His charming course to run. But man's alone responsible For anything amiss, And he alone in future, too, Partake of greater bliss. Oh! then . ill power and praise divine, While mid'life's dangerous way, Shine, then, on me, and be my guide, Nos- let me from Thee stray. Devoutly prompt my soul to sing Thy praise incessant here, That I may noc through v- egligence, Deserve, depart, elsewhere. Here should a lesson man essay, Great will be his reward ;— The Scripture says, " A talent gave Will be claimed by the Lord." CONSTANCE. LIVE ^ GGS.— The editor of the Boston Transcript announced the receipt of a salmon lair, week, as * present, in his neat little paper of vesterday he nnt<- B an'Ubt- r oresfrst. being a box containing " three hens three chickens, and seven eggs— all adv.'' It he is a good Catholic he cwrtainly cannot eat the eggs on a Friday. JUDGE LYNCH.—- A gambler on a Mississippi steam- boat was de- tected in cheating while playing cards with the deck ham is, when they lashed him to the end of the piston- rod, allowing him but three feet of, slack rope; and in th s way they worked him, first pulling him one way and then causing him to spring for his life to prevetit being crushed by the returning piston, and making him keep time to the celebniti- d new air of " Here she goes, there she goes," until they had worked out of him, in sweet and in swearing* , fully the amount of all he had won, when they let him go. 0 TETE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. dFrasmente for tlje © urtoua. LUCY LISLE, the COTTAGER'S DAUGHTER A gentleman of cpnsiderable magnifying powers was relating in company how a military friend of his, hav- ing his left cheek sliced off by a sabre cut, at the battle of Waterloo, had coolly picked it up, replaced, and l> andaged wilh his handkerchief the stray segment, vhich after a few days, was reconciled to its parent free; that is to say, the cheek was cured by inoscula- tion, as it is termed. After this " good thing" had passed current, with the addition, of course, of a few obvious comments from the wag of the company, as to 1he right cheek having been for a moment the left one, & c. T an old gentleman quietly took the lead, and ob- served that a far more remarkable occurrence had liappened to a friend of his, a cavalry officer, at the ^ ame battle, and who, failing to parry a cut aimed at his face, had his nose clean shaven off. " Thereupon," continued the elderly narrator, " my friend stooped and re- possessed himself of the deficient feature, which he clapped on his face, bound it with his handkerchief, and then went pugnaciously on, as if nothing had happened. * ln the sequel, he found the nose firmly united to his face— with this irregularity, however— that it was re- versed, or turned upside down, owing to the haste with • which he had put it on again. This circumstance did not much disturb him, for, being a great snuff- taker he was thus enabled to apply that powder to his nos- trils without the usual waste— but one consequence of the change he would sometimes complain of was rather inconvenient, namely, that whenever he wanted to blow Iris nose, he was obliged to stand on his head V1 THE SCYTHIAN MORALIST. I" It was a custom among the ancient Scythians to cast into a qui- ver, every evening before they siept, a wMte pebble, if the day had been passed happily, but if otherwise, a black one; and at their death, their relations, on comparing the proportionate numbers of black and white stones, adjudged their lives to have been happy or miserable."—- DANIELL.] 2n youthful pride I wander'd on the shore, To gather pebbles for my golden quiver: Of spotless white I chose an ample store, And flung tbe dark ones back into the river. But soon were youth's too sanguine hopes overthrown, For joy and grief, alternately possessing My anxious hreast, each day requir'd its stone, The various colour of my fate expressing. With slower steps once more I sought the strand, Aud, sadly musing on the past, reflected, How oft youth scatters, with unsparing hand, What afterwards in sorrow is collected. And last I learned the sum of human life— That good and ill, alternately appearing, Divide our days, ' twlxt harmony and strife, As light and darkness all the world are sharing. W. B. CLAIMS OF THE POOR.— Society has a claim on tke services of its members, and its members have a claim for support, so long as the common stock holds out. If one class of mankind may say to another, 44 We do not want your labour," that other class may retort, " We do not want your idleness." An exclusive right of in- heritance in the food- producing earth, and a right t © the means of sustaining life— that is to say, private property and a poor- law, are co- relative principles. The one involve the other. It is as unjust as it is heart- less, to tell starving men that there is no cover for them at nature's table. It frees them from the obligation of respecting covers and seats, and legitimatizes a scram- ble. It is true that property must be protected from plunder; it is no less true that humanity must be pro- tected from starvation. The last must is quite as potent as the first. THE ROVER. MAID, THE MOTHER, AND THE MANIAC. My home is on the dashing sea, My sport amid the billow; The breeze, my long- loved'minstrelsy— The rushing wave, my pillow. I love to spread my snowy sail, Far, far as lightning flashes; Far, far as breathes the roving gale, Wide as the wild wave dathes. My home is on the mountain top, Where Nature's breath is blowing, • Untainted by the civic fop, So purely ever flowing. My posies are the loveliest— The heather simply blowing, The primrose in pale sadness dust, And modest tinges glowing. I chase the wild affrighted stag With weapons bow and quiver, And leap along the icy crag, And swim the rushing river. I mark the eagle as my own, And bless my God, the giver j Mid regions of the vast unknown, His death- wrapt eye- balls quiver. My bed is on the heathy height, And flowers o'er me pending, Breathe perfumes through the lovely night, Amid my slumbers blending; And dew- drops from the spangled dome, Are o'er my sleep descending, And glittering o'er my wild, wild home, Each silver star- beam pending. J. J. BROTHERLY LOVE.— An avaricious divine, seeing a poor boy in a deplorable condition, called him to the door; and, giving him a mouldy piece of bread, asked him if he could read, to which he answered in the nega tive ; to the question whether he could say the Belief and the Lord's Prayer, the answer was the same. Well," said the divine, " I will teach you that: say after me, Out Father," said the instructor. " Our Father !" repeated the poor boy, " what your father as well as mine ?" " Yes, certainly." " then we are brothers!" " To be sure we are," was the ready reply. 4< Why, then," replied the boy, pulling the crust from behind his coat," how could you give your poor brother " L" s mouldy piece I" A DREAM. I laid me down a while to rest, And think of those so truly blest— : those to whom the grace was givun, — st from earthly cares in heaven, ars above, in wild array, Ul around as light as day; 4uickly descending from regions above, jel appeared-— his eyes beaming love: him was folded a mantle of white, • » dazzled my eyes by its brilliant light, l ight he could see to the depths of my heart, [ ' aving his hand, he said, " With me depart— , ^ T on earth thy spirit mast stay, TTp- » ri four's come, so hie quickly away." 1 \ - I obey thee " I cried, with delight, Wift'n slowly he vanished away from my sight. And waking, I found ' twas the beams ofthe moon, TiHt shone lull on my face with tho brightness of noon. R. M. At an examination at the College of Surgeons, a can- didate was asked byjAbernethy what he would do if a man was blown up with gunpowder. " Why," coolly replied the tyro, " wait till he came clown again." " True," said Ahernethy ; " and suppose I kicked your a posteriori for such an impertinent reply, what muscles should I put in motion?" " Why," said the young man, " the flexors and extensors of my right arm; for 1 should Jloor you directly." - THE THORN. BY H; MANDER MAY. Young Edwin sat beneath the Thorn, In youthful vigor gay, And while he felt the bliss of morn, He sung the charms of May. The sportive zephyr's balmy breeze. Stole fragrance from each' flfrwer, And while the swain each " beauty sees, He contemplates their power. His melting notes, with skill display'd, Uous'd echo in the grove, And when he sung his absent maid, She echoed back his love. When lo! the sky, with sable dye, Obscured the azure form, Hot ligi tilings flash along the sky, And mingled in the storm. The thorn, so much admired before, Was scatter d on the ground, And when the thunder ceased to roar, He heard a mournful sound, Say, " Edwin, sec, the storm displays Thy life ip emblem here? And ih nk, when in thy sweetest days, T hy moment may be near." Kennington. ACCURATE DESCRIPTION — Orator Duncan, it may be remem- bered, received a a- vere injury from something in the shape of cow- skin, somewhere in the neignbourboo l of Cinclnat:. " Where were you hurt, doctor," said a friend, 44 was it near the vertebray ?' ** No no,'' slid the disciple of Uaien, " It was near the Race- course.'— JPiQayum* THE subject of this very interesting drama, now performing at the City of London Theatre with unbounded success and approba- tion, is taken from a story in real life ; the heroine, Lucy Lisle, or Selina L , whose right name is withheld to avoid giving um- brage to any existing members ofthe family, was born of respect- able, though humble parents* in a small village on the Sitssex coast, had the misfortune ( tor such it was to her, and has been to many of her sex,) of being very handsome ; she was the admiration of the rustic neighbours, and of the visitors to that part of the coast; among other gay young men that saW her, and felt the force of her charms, was Captain Henry Osmond, a young man of good family, but whose chief dependencies were on his commis- sion, and expectations from an uncle, Mr. Stanton, who had been i governor of Berbice, and having resigned, was daily expected in England. He was a gentleman ot eccentric habits and manners, arid the captain was tearful of incurring his anger by marrying a woman utterly penniless ; he was an old bachelor too, and, there- fore, might be supposed to have but little sympathy for romantic lovers. Still the captain was in love, and resolved to try to Win the affections of this lovely girl; he, therefore, formed a. deep-^ of& erted plan at this period, he had n^ ver spoken to ' her, b\ kt had merely seen her by accident; he now took an outside seat on the coach which went from that part of the country to London, and whose route lay immediately past the Cottage of Robert Lisle, her father, and when directly parallel with the door, he contrived, though the coach was in full career, t © jump off in such a manner, that it had the appearance of a fall, and, indeed, he did not escape without several severe cuts and bruises ; but what will not loVe attempt. Afc he had surmised; he was directly carried into the cottage, to all appearance lifeless, put to bed. and a snrgeon sent for, who, happening to be as deficient of bkill fes of Sense, bled him, and took so much blood from him, aWfi Otherwise acted so unskilfully, as to make him really 111. Robert Lisle, who was a man of most hospitable and kindly feelings, paid bifn eVer^ at- tention, and the charming Llicy became his nurse, this was what he aimed at; he imposed the name of LewsoVi upon thsm and passed as a young gentleman of good family, '^ ngagid in mercantile pursuits, but preferring the army; th? y had lately purchased a commission for h: m. By theIgnorftfeft of the doctor, and bii own ar- tifice, his recovery was delayed, during which time he insinuated himself so far into hef good graces, that a firm and iafttiftg attach merit was formed, but. m an evil hour, when prudence slept, and passion reigned, he. " triumphed over her Vitttte, yet was his be- haviour so affectionate- his profession* ao honourable, knd the plans and prospects he held out so tempting, thkt, Mvinfc a firm reliance in his principles, bhe endeavoured W lull her heart and feelings into a fatal Security. It ha* been wisely remarked, that lovers seem io consider every one blind but themselves, and tbey used so little catitidn in their behaviour, that the gossips of tne village made it a the& ie of discourse, and ttuny wondered that old Lisle was not more careful of his daughter. Among others who noticed the affair, was a young farmer, whose father having been reduced, had taken the situation of gamekeeper to the esquire; this young man, whose name wa* Richard Fairly, sin- cerely loved Lucy, and before the captains arrival, had found favour in her ryes, indeed, most of the Village set tt db\ Vn & cer- tain match. He soon observed the change lh her manners, an 1 was not long in discovering the cause, jealousy having made him suspicious and inquisitive ; he and One of the village worthies, called old Joe, the mat- seller, to ivhoin he unburthened his mind) and who was his counsellor in all matters— lay their heads together to ascertain who this young officer really was, and tWy soon dis- covered that the letters he received, and which were always directed to the village post- office, were in a different n& me, this begot an opinion In them that all was not rigftt, rightly judging that no good accompanies mystery,, Old Joe was the first to Mftt his suspicions to Robert Lisle, Whose paternal feelings taking the alarm, he watched them closely, and conceiving that there was danger in the maiked at- tention paid to nis daughter by Mr. Lewson, he politely gave him notice, that being now much recovered, he could not entertain him longer, being in want of the chamber he occupied. This was a death blow to the lovers; in vain did Osmond offer a handsome gratuity. The old man, who now saw that thetfe Was something in the wind, though he had not the slightest suspicion ot the real truth, having too great a reliance in his daughter's prudence, firmly refused to accept of any return for his kindness, further ihan some presents which had been given to Lucy and the other females of the family. But repeating his request, the captain found he conld not, with any face, remain, and, accordingly, re- moved to the " Black Horse ' in the village, Under the pretence that his health was not firmly established. During his sojourn there he had many opportunities of seeing Lucy— takir/ g long wa ks with her in the fields and adjacent park, unknown to the vigilant parent, who thought that now he had got rid of the cause ot suspicion from his hou « » — he had no further reason for anx- iety; but the watchful Richard, in secret, followed ihem in ail their excursions; and often, when he was least expected, would cross their path, and be the means ot making Lucy break off her walk with her lover, and return hastily home. Richard Fairly burned to pick a quarrel with the captain, and more than once had hit finger on the trigger of his trun when he had seen him with his arm round Lucy's waist— wa king in a se- cluded part of the paik— nothing but the fear of hurting her, with- held him. One day when he had thus disturbed the lovers, and Lucy had quitted the captain, he suddenly appeared before Osmond, his dark eyes flashing with ire, and his whole form swelling with hatred and indignation ; the captain paused. " I would fain speak a word with you, Mr. Lewson, as you call yourself," said he. " Call mysell!" answered Osmond, angrily. " Aye, sir, it may be your name or not— I care not— but yon have bad a private meeting with the daughter of neighbour Lisle " said Rithard, his lips trembling with rage. " I have overheard ' a part of your conversation— do you not blush?— Look to it— if you have behaved like a villain " here; and should ought happen, hide where you will in Europe. Asia, Africa, or America, Richard Fairly will find you out— look to it." So saying, he put his gun on his shoulder, wi'h a lock of min- gled scorn and hatred, and struck into another path. Conscience, ' tis Bald, makes cowards of the bold. Osmond, who at the parade or mess, would have challenged one of his equals for an equivocal word or doubtful lock, shrunk fr< m an en counter With the sta wart keeper. He now began to reflect it was tlm? for him to dec; m,)— his love for Lucy Degan to cloy- The captain, at this, was on the point of bursting into a vlolen' rage, when the other coolly aaked him if he was not Captain Henr\ Osmond. Pushed So directly home, the captain could not deny it. Mr Stanton then told him he should be ready to give him any satisfac tion at the house of his father, where he himself resided. O « mond, more and more amazed at this, asked him who th> devil he was. Had a thunder- bolt fallen from the heavens, orai earthquaka shoolt the house, Henry could not have been more as tonished and petrified, when Mr. Stanton, rising, said sternly,— " Your uncle t'' The captain endeavoured to bring out a few words in extenua tlon of his conduct, but, failing in the atttmpt, rushed from th apartment in despair, while his uncle, mounting his horse, set of for London, vowing he'd marry the first woman that would hav h- m, sooner than leave one penny of hit fortune to such an unprin clpled scoundrel. We will now return to Lucy, tvho had received her father'.- blessing, and a < Jwe ' quantity of Wholesome advice, with a littl money, and all fclse that wa* de< med necesiary, except the diree tlon » ro Mrs. Mayhew's house, which had been either forgotten, o h£ r father detinac it likely that slie would fo; et her charge at th « waggon- office where they Vtojjped, a » d when they had reached their journey's ' e& c, fto't seeing any one, Lucy began to be exceed ingly puVMed alarmed. Now, the reader must understam that the time this took place, it was a comnnn trick for wick^ i. procuresses to waitabout the inns where the waggons and coachis cama up from the country, and if they a good- looking girl fresh and just com* to get a situation in London, thje^ would en vc'gie thi m to tlieiriiifumous derts, aftd et toplete fchelr ruin. It i sometimes practisedttbW-, thoUfeh hot & o oheb, on account ot th « better state of the tolitte, & c.} & t thfe sa'& e time, this may act as s warning; to others. S'ucfy a person was Mrs. ( barter, who kept a? infamoafe fcdftselh Spring Garc^ ns, and. one of her satelites, Betty DaslYaway, a showr you/ g woman, cam* up to the w; jjgon- office just at the time thai Lucy was bewailing her neglect, in not having brought addres: of Mrs. Mayhew. Having overheard all this, as they stoo^. unobs^ rve'd by Lucy or the waggoner, they stepped up to her, and askid if she did not come from the country, am was to maet her, presenting herself as Mrs. Mayhew, and Betty as her daughter, who immediately began to be very friendly with her and asked her a thousand questions* Lwcy Was delighted at the rencontre, and simpie like, told hef all abodt her father, who har been a soldier, and kad Krtotim M » s. Mayti « w and her husbtnd when they were In til* snfte regftttent together; yet, « hp was sur priled ftttd delighte. l when Mrs", Garter v, old Ker afterwards the- s'el'f- s; m; things,^ thmgh tjiey had been repeated in her presence, so artful a'^ e these ifffttehe*, add so s ktple their dupes. Lucy haying now found her friends! Watty Wastrill was dis- missed, aite^ giving her bundles to Betty, though not withou' considerable reluctance on his part, who did not like the appear ance of Mrs. Mayhev and her daughter, and whispered to Lucy that he thought he* appellation was a mlanomer, for instead of. " may you," he thcught she looked by h « r appearance a grea^ deal more like Myoi may " but Luey laughed, at Ills fears, an » bade him take ber Ittfe to her father, and tell n'm that she har' arrived safe, and Into what good hands she had fortunately f<* li She now set off will her neV; triends, who had placed lier in th* middle, each having tight hold of an aiiiij and Mrs. Garter, with a very precise air, tola her to p > U her bonnet, over her eyes, and hold Iter head down, for fear > he fellows » hould insult her by staring rudely in htr face, a thlyig for which llie London young fellows \ vere noted. Her real ( m > tive for It was— as Lucy ap- peared such a fit subject, and having, no doubt, but that amor g her customers she should be able tb make a la^ e sum of monev by her— she was tnrful of seeing; the significant looks of rec< g nition, that, a nuitiber of scandalous old debauchees and young rakea gave th m as they passed, and thus create a suspicion of th truth in tier mind. As it was, Lucy formed a very h'gh opinion ot Mrs. Mayhew's prudence by it. On her arrival at tha house ii Spring gardens, she was surprised at ihe grandeur, within an- wiihout, and more « o by ths number of young ladles, all dauvh. ters of Mrs. Mayhew. t Honest John, who had always been the staunch friend of Lucy, determined to watch the maniac very closely; for the murder of the infant could not be proved as the body could not be found, * he having concealed it in some place unknown to every one. How- ever, Richard, whose chief delight was to wander "' midst the glimpse of the moon,*' discovered Lucy on the verge of the moor hat skirted the village, digging in a trench ; she was seen by him to take a small box from the root of a blighted thorn, and open it $ when, to his horror, as he stood in the shade looking on, he saw the decomposed body of the infant. At first he disbelieved his senses; but seeing her replace it, he watched till she left the place, and a second time exhumed the coffin, and was on the point of ex- imiag it when the constables and John came up and seized him, fohn not conceiving for a moment that Richard knew anything about where the child was secreted; thus, by over zeal, had he nearly ruined his friend, for Captain Osmond being among the pursuing party, the heartless man, though he fully Comprehended the affair denounced Richard as the murderer, and pointed out the body thus buried and exumed as the proof. He was hurried off to the county gaol, and the wretched Lucy seised to preveHt her escape before the trial. Richard, stung to the soul, at such villainous conduct, made one rush at Osmond, and, catching him by the throat, would have quickly deprived him of life but for the active exertions of the police. We will draw a veil over the wretched scene— of the capture of Richard— the deBpair of Lucy, and the unblushing villany of Osmondi Whilst this ifras passing, oid Llslfe and Mr. Stanton, Who, on hearing of the distress of the old irian, had come forward, and being a friend, indeed— devjsed a plan. to punish the captain, even supposing he should Succeed itl evading the pduishment due to hit guilt— they gave it out that old Lille had sdddenlv feome into a larg; fortune, left them by a rtlatiVe in India. The captain hearing of ihis, and knowing that all hope was lost, with regard to his uncle, determined to do justice to Lucy. He, therefore, em- ployed a band of ruffians to beset the cottage- sent for a priest. > nd made the affrighted creature answer to the responses? and h » ceremony being completed, he called upon his friend, Sir thirlcs, and th* ne: ghbours, vh m curiosity had summoned ground, to slirn the marruge contract. At this moment the supposed minister and clerk tnr* w off their disguises, and disclosed, to, thi astonishment of all,, tHe features of old Robert J^ sle and Mr. Stanton. The viliany Was now fuVy disclosed; and when Richard p. assea ih irons, on his way to the Judaiilmt CKitiib « r, the wretched Lucy, recovering frdm the horrid state of lunacv ? he had been in, explained all $ and some cottagers coming forward who h* d witnessed the f » et, swore ti the child of Lucy being killed by the lightning. Thus was the haracter of Rkhard fully cleared, and Osmona regarded wl< h in- iignation even by his friend and partner in villany, Sir Charles Vainly. Stung to the qukk, and burning with revenge, Osmond drew a pistol, and suddenly presenting it, tired at Richard, but, equivo- cating in his aim, struck Lucy on the temple. She sunk to the ground,, and extending her liands to ItieWd and her father, im- p'ored ' hair forgiveness, and tii^ n fixing her dying eyes on Os- mond, she excbniiled « • Henry— Henry-^- nave I deserved this !" then begging < h; surrounding people to prav for the soul of the cottager's daughter, fhe died in the arms of Rlihard, a fearful example of the danger of trusting to a lover's tale, wlien not sanc- tioned by tiie feelings of prudence or the dictates of religion. rpHE BATHERS' AND SWIMMERS' POCKET COMPANION. Containing Precautionary Rule » , in caie of Accident!, both for Bather, and Swimmer.. Illustrated by Examples taken from real Life. PRICE ONE PENNY. Published by W. M. CLARK, 17, Warwick- lane, Paternoiter. row. PUBLIC ACKNOWLEDGMENT. ITHE undersigned JOHN CUBLEY, late of Oerby, but now of the town of Nottingham, heretofore a schoolmaster, but now out of employment, do hereby acknowledge, that I have lately got compounded some Pills, which I have sold to different persons as " OLD PARR'S LIFE PILLS," by repre- senting that i had purchased the Recipe tor that celebrated Medi- cine; such representation was, however, entirely false, and the Proprietors of the OKNUINK " Old Parr's Life Pills" have com- menced legal proceedings against me for the above fraud. But I having expressed sorrow and contrition, and given up to them the names and addresses of 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 tyty all the expenses, including this advertisement, the Proprietors have kindly con- sented tO forego stifch Ifcgal proceedings. I do, therefore, declare my shame dHA aorro$ fdt having committed such an- imposition on the public, and such a fraud on the PttpHfctbrS of " Old Parr's Life Pills," and further express my ackno& ledgirisfltl fttr their JOHN CtifitEft Dated this 28th day of January, 1841. Witness— H. B. CA* 5? BKLL, Sollcftor, Nottingham. In orfrgr, therefore, to protect the public from such imitations, the Hon. jQommisslonera of Stamps have ordered " PARR* S LIFE PILLS engraved on the Government Stamp attached to each box, without which none are genuine. " -•• Nothing extenuate. Nor set down aught in malice. 1' SBAKSPKRK. hl « unc. e might arrive iu England, and hearing ot hi. helng there, might come down, ana, powlbly, get acquainted wilh the whol. affair. It wai necenary t( iat he should leave the Till ' g » — thua resolving, ihe next interview he had with Lucy, he told her that he wan compelled to join his res- m? nt, ' which was about to change lis quarters— arranged a plan ol correspondence, and g ave h- r a Hot ot' places where ihj r. giment wsuld hilt. ' Tis neeule. s to say all this w is lalsei but t. king au affectionate leave of ' lis broken- hearted girl, hs returned to hia inn, secretly congratulat- ing himself on htvlagputan end to an affair tint threatened to be troublesome. It so happened that old Lisle, who, frcm being in straightened circumstances, had been for some time endeavouring to g* t Lucy some eligible place or situation, received a letter from a former acquaintance, a Mrs. Mayhew, in London, with the offer ofa place for her, with a very giod and pious lady in the West Find. De~ I ghted at this, aim knowing well how very respectable Mrs. Mayhew was. and what interest she had wilh many of the gentry he Into) mid his dau. hter of it; and preparations hivng been made, and tile affair finally settled, she left the place of her birth In the stage Wftgg. m, under th" car„ or Watty Wastrill, ihe driver, a kind, n mest hearted lad, who had known har from infancy. And while she is on her road, We will turn our thoughts to h- r base sedu er. The event he so much feared actually had taken place. Mr. stantm had arrived In K g and, and having ascertained from one of Harry's triends, Sir Ch » ues Vanley, where ihe captain w^ s, and also being g ven to understand that he had met wi h a very severe accident, as he intended to make iiim his hsir. and had been very fond of him when a child, , h; hid not seen h'm since) he hid made his way down to Sussex, in great cone- ru, and stopped at the very inn in nhich the captain lodged. He was at that time toklrg his last farewell of Lucy. The host of -" Ihe Blatk Horse, („ r ralh> r " The Brown Bear," frrm the sign hav. ing been lately ( hang- id throi'gh a m'sttke of the painter.) was named John Honest, fat least he had been so de. igaated by h s godfaiher and godmother.) but who Wis mist generally cal ed Honest John, by hi, n -' ghbours, and never jvas h man being more pronerly named, as he was honestly personitied— he was a sort of y Gossip, in his way— fond of teiiiig th- neres of ilfg vil- Isg; to all comers. It has already been said that Mr. Stanton was an eccentric ihiracter hims- lf, and to. k great delight in • utenkg to Jt ha'* account. Am ing other thing, he mentioned th- lr the prettiest girl in ati Sussex, au inmate of their village. ' I he old gentleman's curiosity belnir roused, lie asked many ques. Hons about her. John then told h'm of the clrcnmit « uce of the match I eing broken « ff between her and Rleliard Fairly, and of the singular arrival of the visitor of the cottage. ," He l » a dandy chap," said John, " ccm- from London; but whether he is a gentleman's servant, an exciseman, or one of the swell mob, I cant say; but I've often » een tn. nl very lovingly walking on the beach : and when you- see sin. ke, you look for houses, you know, at the srme time winking his eVe iu a signifi- cant manner— a peculiar custom Of his. 8 Mr Stanton perfectly understood h m, and was now more parti- cular in his enquiries, and received such a startling description of he captain that, though the mme wa. different, he felt assured lord nephew, and mentioned his suspicions to the land- Honest John was one that never retracted his words- never fiat- , ""— and would say what he thought of everybody. As it may be supposed, O mnnd's character did not stand verv fair with him and he told Mr. Stanton all he knew of t'e whole affai ihA ; I 7r8" 1Tly " urt t0 hear this account of a young m m who he hud been let to believe, wa. a par„ gon of virtue? and rf « as .; » : w! ne de, lr « l John to show tor. Lewson into ? ha rocm When. he arrived ; which he did shortly afterwards, and was led hv " T *? » » « ' » » thf h0 ™ ™ wUcfi his uncle hkcl arrived led by a t'iOImm tb and fro before the door. He rec, irnlzed it I, be onglng ,0 hi, father, Sir Willi, m O. mond; « ,° d in gexDres, We ", e , u> u, e' " nd wa" 8, IU"" ^ to the" room by them to thtrnseWes? tU 8 left Jlfldlng only a strange- there, as he supposed, and understand- ing that he w;, s the gentleman who had arrived on the wV. h he're » pected'and* '; P'ty." said Osmond, In amizement. one who has beei S^ SSSi^ S^^ Mrs. G havkgt secured her prije, * 6 » flattered her, and gave her many hainsoWe presents, observing, that now she ha- come off her journey, sh- had better chfirg Her dMs. and when Lucy would have applied ( o hier own hunible wardrobe for thai ptlrpose, she told tier that her clothes were no' itiade sufficient!* In London, fashion, and thai: she had split* company coming thai day, and that she should have a. frock and other necessaries out o. her daughter's slntk. 1 his, Ihiugh Lucy would hive fain re- tused it, Mrs. Garter would in- lst upon itj so lhat she was over, - nled: and now. while she Is attiring herself, we will turn out thoughts sgain lo the captain, who, on his arrival in London went to his friend, Sir ( hsrles Vainly, whose unthinking con- duct hi seV- eWly deprecatrll In telling Mr. Stanton where to find him, and also said th » t he was new a ruined man, and that hi. only course waa to commit suicide. Th's Ida wild friend laugh*.] him out of, and ree mm- nded wine and worn n to drive olue devils out of his head. Offtind was for s iti- tim. obstinate, bu' Sir Charles prevailed, and getting Into Ills curricle, th- friends drove off to Mrs. Garter's, at Snrlrg garden., \ rh- ru they w; rr certain of belhg furnished with all itiey m ght Wish for. They arrived just as Lucy, h ivlcg been attired in a dress of pink satin and a superb artificial flower In her hair, hid completed her toilette, and was congratulated by Mrs. Grrter on her appear ance, wilh truth, for the looked most transcendently lovely, ant: was token into the drawlng- ro m. where the h'gil spirits of th- others, and their frequent drau. hts of Wine aud ale. hjl, with other spirits, surprised and shocked her. M s. Garter luvlng received Sir Chirlea and the captain in a private room, told the latter lhat « he hid a yonne beautv of seven- teen, just come lip frntti the country, surpasdt g all ev- r seen In London before, aud lhat If he liked, she would let him have the first sight of her for a stated sum, which was none uf ih. least. Sir t liar. es was all on fire, and would fain have outbid hi. f lend; but the captain, rmt « ed by the description. Insisted on hh prior right, hiving been offered the first, and Immediately laid down the sum specified, desiring Mrs. Garter to send the nonpareil Into the apartment; immediately on nhlch that worthy creature, and th » equally worthy baronet, left the room, and the Infamous woman returned Wi h Lucy, whom she had told she was galrg to Intro, duce to a very particular friend of hera, who would use li s Interest for her In pladrg her in Ihe best situation. Handing her In, she Immediately left the room, fastening the door after her. At the first moment Ostitind did not recognise her, but In advancing tfwtrds her in a gallant manner. What words can express th shock of each, for the truth darted on her mind when she heard the turning of the key in the lock: and bad al he was. when he saw the late virtuous Lu. y In sue h a situation, his feelings over e, ime h'm. and as she sank lifeless in his arms, hia worst enemy must have pitied his agony. But this was brief i she recove- ed, and wth strermi' g eves and on her knees implored h m to take her from that scene of horrors. He endeavoured to assume the appearance of the Injured party, saying:— ' Indeed, Miss Lisle, this looks so very extraordinary to find you th is in a common brothel; the explanation must come from yourself." Lucy turning her distracted eyes towards him. In a tone of de- precating anguish, cried, " If this is such a place, by whose agency am I brought hither, If not by yours I Why are you here !'• SlrChirles now being resolved to see this incomparable creature, burst open ihe door and entered, swearing that he must have a peep. Lucy shrunk behind Osmond for protection. He perceiv- ing that now further evasion was fruitless, took Sir Charles aside, and. villain like, told him, that feeling sudden indisposition, he resigned the prize to him. Sir Charles was In rapture; but on Osmond attempting to leave the apartment, the poor girl clung t- him In the agony of despair. He attempted to shake her off. A noise was now heard on the staira. Itlchard Fairly, who had foi. lowed her to London, and tracked her to Spring- gardens, had as- certained from tbe neighbours the character of the house, and. getting assistance, broke Into the apartment at this most critical juncture. In vain Sir Charles and the Captain opposed him with their swords; with his cudgel he dashed them to a thousand pieces, and saved his beloved. Despite the efforts of Mrs. Garter and her infamous associates, Lucy for a ahort time remained in the place which he had selected as apartments tor her. Stung to the soul by the noble conduct of that injured voungmau, and feel- ing how truly unworthy she was of his attentions, sbe contrived clandestinely to quit the house, and going to one of the lying- in establishments, she gave birth to a fine boy— Heaven knows, the child of misery and shame. On her coming forth, she sold some little articles preserved from the wreck of happier days, with which she took a humble— a very humble lodging, where, after everything TO, gone, and distress in its most mournful state, she wa « supplied by the kindness of her landlady's daughter, a mere child of twelve years of age, who gave up all her little money, and after brought her own meals to divide with little Edwin and Ills mother. While she remained In this humhle domicile, and pon- dering how she conld possibly meet the demands of her landlady, who was by no means of the kindly turn of her daughter, she was surprised by the entrance of Richard Fairly, whose family had lately come Into the possession of property, and who was hand- somely, but plainly dressed in deep mourning. In the most feel- ing manner he not only Insisted on relieving her distresses, ! ut oflVred to marry her, and thus make the child his by adoption ; but she cared not. She told him she would not thus bring dis. grace on an honourable man. As she looked In his face, al the moment her heart smote her, his appearance was so fearfully altered, While he was thnS contending with her In friendly argOment, the door Was thrown violently open, and to the astonished gaze of Lucy, revealed her father. Seeing her in such a situation, and Richard with her, he concluded that he had been deceived, and that Richard was the g. i tyone. He accused him of it- drew forth a case of pistols— presented one to him— and immedi- ately took his ground I vain did his daughter implore. He madly called on Kichard to fire, he rr* ftis » * d to do so, as, by the laws or duellir g, the injured party should have the first fire. Old Lisle levelled and fired; Richard was wounded In the arm. He then g lve his loaded pistol to the poor distracted father, tellirg him ix he doubted him, to fire At this moment the baby on the wretched pallet cried aloud. The old man at the sound rushed towards the bastard to destroy it; in this he was prevented by the exertions of Richard and the neighbours, whom the tumult had brought in. Lucy contrived in the confusion to take her child out ofthe reach of her father's ver gsaneej she fled she knew not whither,— but at last, found heraeu on a common, some distance from town, In a dreadful storm of thunder and lightning, or rather it should be said, that she was found there, for a total aberration of intellect had taken place, and the child had been struck by lightning and lay a parehed and blackened corse, in hia mother's arms. At this moment, Captain Oamond, who had been to his father's, whose mansion lay in that direction, came by. His horse started at n flash of lightning, aud Osmond's astonished gaze fell on Lucy and her dead child; he dismounted, and, in the agony of his heart, endeavoured tocalm the wretched maniac. Itwas vain She cried out on the murderer of her child; voices were beard, and Osmond hastened from the place juat at the instant that Richard, and a party of pursuers whom lie had engaged came up ^ nothing could depict the horror of the scene; several constables- beint; there, and seeing the state of the infant, conceived that the chik had Wen ill- treated. s. nd thus hurried out ot the world. They pressed her to. disclose the cause, and she mistaking Richard for Osmond, accused him of the murder of her infant j the young man was seized and carried before a magistrate, who having heard the depositions, held him to bail, thus permitting him to go at large, COVKNT OARDBV.— This magnificent National Theatre has been crowded to excess since the commencement of the winter cam- palgn, and the elite of the fashionable world have attended It. The Midsummer Night s Dream— The Merry Wives of Windsor— The Cntic— Fra Diutiolo, and the ceHtedy ot London Assurance, have formed the bill of fare sinde our last. Great preparations, we are informed, are mdkihg for thfc production of several neiV pieces, of which report speaks in the highest terths. HAYMAftKKl' — The performances at this theatfe » ln€ e our last h^ ve been » irginius,— Morton's comedy of 7 Own and COiihirij,— Money--* nd Jiiches, which have drawn full houses. Bernard's It at new farce of The Boarding School has betome a standard fa- vourlte. ENGLISH OvkAa.— Pug ; 6V, a Widow's Tears, and Enjoyment, have been moderately successful at this theatre; and, alth « ugh they citnhot bo* st oi much Originality of incident or language, nei- ther that tbe jokes are Very iieW, thaf httit excited some merri- ment, and may have an ephemeral existence of a f€ w flights. Tbe . ompany is a very efficient one, but we regret that the theatfS has been but indifferently attended. STRAND — The Bump of Renevoletice— lHeet me hy Moonlight— and The Frolics ofthe Fdiries, have been played since our last to » ? ood houses, and nigniy amused the audience every evening they were submitted to thslr entertainment. This Is decidedly one of the most attractive little theatrefl in the metropolis. SADI. kr'S WHLLS — Notwithstanding the tremendous success of Giselle j or, The Night Dancers, Honner, one 6f ihe most indefati- gable managers we have, has produced a new drama o^ pe'culiar con- struction, from the oen of Mr. G. Almar, entitled, The life Of John Ketch, or the Hangman's Bride— a Leaf from lybum Tree ; which has been most favourably received by the public. Of tiie manner iu which it is got up, it is unnecessary for us to speak, as the spirit and taste of the lessee in that respect are so well known. It was much applauded throughout, and the performers played with great spirit. CITY.- A new domestic drama, from the prolific pen of Dibdin Pitt, called Lucy Lisle, the Cottage dirt, has been produced here with considerable success, and to which its rttsrits, and the ex- ertions of ihe actors, fully entitled it. ( We refer our readers to the Dramatic Tale.) The trifle crlled Sally and Tommy, and the drama of The Idiot Girt, have continued In public favour. PAVILION — Fmily Eit* ormond; or, 7/ « 5 Deserted One, is a deeply interestingdr> ma, and Mrs. Denvll has made the most of the materials with which she was furnished Dy the tale now pub- lishing in weekly numbers at the office of tills paper. It nightly receives the entbu » iastic applause ot the audience. Susan. Hopley ( one of the most beautiful and successful domestic dramas ever produced at this theatre) is still played to numerous and delighted audiences. VICTORIA.— Miss Vincent re- appeared in her favourite charac- ter of Susan Hopley, for the 61st time, on Monday last, we, in common with the public, are heartily glad to find this lady reco- vered from the severe and dangerous attack of rheumatic fever under which she has been labouring. Her appearance was hailed in a manner unparalleled, whleh fully bore out the high opinion we have always entertained of this lady's excellent acting. We were fearful from her late severe illness, that she would not be able to sustain the character so effectually as she hitherto had done but were agreeably surprised to find her do so with redoubled energy. At the fall of the curtain Miss Vincent was loudly called for,— and, on her appearance, was most rapturously applauded. We understand there are several novelties in preparation, in which Miss V. will appear. SURREY.— Crowded houses is the order of the night at this the- atre. A new equestrian historical drama, from the pen of Haines, and entitled 1 he Battle of Blenheim i or, The Horse of the Dis- inherited, is announced to be in a torward state of preparaiion. MALBKRT SALOON.— Monsieur Plege and his clever family, de- cidedly the Most extraordinary rope- dancers in Europe, in addition to the other splendid entertainments got up at this establishment, draw hundreds of spectators every evening, whose delight is evinced by the unbounded applause bestowed. WIIITK CONDUIT.— The real, right- down earnest, genuine, and original Dusty Bob, the renowned Billy Walbourn, aft* r an ab- sence of seven years in America, has doffed his fan- tail at this popular place of amustm- jnt, and, in conjunction with his Sarah, may be seen every evening coming the " caper" en the toe and heel with the same spirit and matchless agility as he did twenty years ago. The amusements in the saloon and gardens are of first- rate quality. MARYLKBONE.— This theatre opened on the 20th instant, under the able man> g « ment of that indefatigable and clever caterer, Mr. John Douglas, with entire new scenery, and a very powerful com- pany. The theatre is completely re- d « corated in the most superb manner, by Mr. Willet, of Covent Garden Theatre. Messrs. Nelson Lee and Johnson having purchased the whole of the Scenery, Dresses, and Decorations c. f the late Mr. Scowton, which, added to their own extensive establishment, they intend to • xhibit at Peckham Fair. We hope tke proprietors will meet with, hat eucouragement they so justly merit by the spirited manner ixj which they cater for the public. LETTEH From air. J. DRiiRY, of Llncolrt, shewing the high estimation tfcede infttliteble Medicines afe held in that City " To the Proprietors of Parr's Life frlls. " GENTLEMEN,— _ I 14 When you first appointed me agent to sell Old Parrt Life Pills, which was Aagust 14th, 1840,1 Was dofc'btfpl of mak1q£ much sale, there being so many different pills for the public td please themselves with. There must, however, be mote length df LIFE in Parr's Pills than in others, for I find on enquiry, that muc. h. benefit is obtained from them, and that they RXALLT DO O66D to hundreds and thousands of people : I may say thousands, for if dtt your agents sell at the same rate I do, and I have sold a few, up tti the present time, y\ i:—( 142 boxes f large and small sizes. I am now wantitig a fresh supply, Which please to send instanter, or else yoti will have much to' answer for by hot rffaltiiig Halt* \ a ® IVK NEW LKNFJTBF Liim to them wanting Hj and you: may upon it for truth, that mahy o£ t> people who were going down tiSb in life, are now invigorated with NEW L* FE, STEW FEELINGS,— SPRIGHTLY, and FULL OF AtHiVitf, and who say THEY ARE FAR BETTER TPR HEALTH since they have taken OLE) PARRS LIFE PILLS, than they we- e some twenty years back I Stffely there ! « iftiigit iri the pills io do so' much good to the fcuttfaft ffartie, no* only to tiie agfed, but < o the ^ ourig as well, and partletira/ ly tounj femalet. J art, yotir Obedient Servant. JAMES DRURY. 224, Stone Bow, Lincoln, Feb. fcth, 1941. Price Is. lid., 2s. 9d., and family boxes lis. : fhe holes at 2s. 9d. contain equal to three small, and those at 17*. « qu* l to Dv « at 2s. 9rl. Full directions are given with each box. This Medieine is sold wholesale, by appointment, by EDWARD'S* ST. Paul's Church Yard, London. RIDDLES. I. My first is truly bad to find, Worst when we are most in need; My second by the blustering wind, Right swiftly is made to speed. My whole is by my first professed. But ofun will not stand the test. II. R. M. My first Is worn by Britain's queen, My last her subjects all have seen $ My whole its beauties oft disclose. When you are luil'd in sweet repose. J. E. PARKER. III. Three- fifths of a point in the compass contained, With the masculine gender as well. Will a countryman show who England once gained, But the answer I leave you to tell. IV. I'm in the alphabet, I'm in the squire, I'm in the sequsl, but not In a fire ; I'm In a liquid, I'm in a quill, I'm in a quiver, but not near a rill; I'm in a squib, but never at pillage, And last, I pronounce the name of a vill? GROSS FRAttPS. — CAUTION TO THE' PUBLIC! THE very great and wnexampled success, which. haa attended ihe use of OLD PARR'S LIFE PILLS, Having Induced unprincipled persons to prepare vile smd spurious articles und. r the same name, purchasers, for their own protection, are cautioned to notice that the words The True Old Parr'aLlfe Pills, are printed on the Government Stamp, and as a further pro- tection the signature of Miss PARS. la on the side of the wrapper, without which signature the Pill* cannot be genuine, and to counterfeit which is felony. Miss Parr Is lineally descended from Old Parr, whose re'elpe for preparing this truly wonderful remedy, she discovered about? twelve years ago, alnce which time It has not been out of h. r jibt- setslon. , , '/ lie. statement madr. by the vendors or a spuriout article, tMv " the document is held hy a clergyman, the Itev. Witlvim Arther, of East Peciham " is TOTALLY VALSK and the / lev. William Ar- ther, of East t'eckham, is not known and cannot be Sound there, as Is proved by letters received from the " General Post- Offle.," which are to be seen at the Depot, London, and of wlilyh tb, fal- lowing are copies cQpy General Post- Office, .' fist July, 1841. gm.— In reply to your communication of the 14th Instant, I beg to state that many letters have been directed to the Rev. William Arther, of Peckham, but there being no one known there of that name, they have in all cases when it has been passible returned to the writers. I am. Sir, ITour obdt. hble. servant, THOS. LAWRENCB. Assistant Secretary. COPY. General Post- Office, 14th Aug., 1841. S, n< With reference to your further communication of the 10th Instant, I beg to state, that inquiries were made In all the district, adjacent to Peikham for the Rev. Wm. Arther, but he could not be found; the letters have therefore been returned to their writers- I am. Sir, Your obdt. humble servt., JAS. CAMrBKLL., Pro. Secretary. Many persons throughout the kingdom from the extraordinary fame which Old Parr's Remedy haa acquired, have desire* to try It, but Induced by false statement! ( and in some cases by the advice < if interested vendors) had taken the worthless counterfeit, and not finding the benefit Invariably resulting from the genuine article » have written to the " Clergyman." and thus had th. lr letters re. turned. Since the exposure of the above imposition the vendors or Ahis Vile I onnterfeit have discontinued the use of the name nf ft RTUKtt. and now say " the Clergyman,'' and more effectually to rlrtde public detection have changed the portrait of OLD PAKR on. Sheir bills, the head they now use having a long beard. The conse- quence of this redoubling and changing Is, that unless parchasera, » re very cautious In noticing the signature of Miss Parr, they are l c ertain to get the Counterfeit. ...... • Complaints are constantly being received at the depot from per- . aoiia who have been- so Imposed upon, we are, however, not to blame —< ve can only admonish purchasers to attend to the above caution and they may defy imposition. OBSERVE that ihe words of the Oovernment Stamp are no pro- tection- ami one being at liberty to print whatever words they please on . tuck stamps, for which there is no penalty. Theoliject of designing imibations of this wonderful remedy, in directing ail notice to word* on the stamp Is to take off public attention from, the only. fme « as « , Miss Parr's Signature, which they dare not tmt- the ho*, ef persona labouring under all kinds of disease.,— many hitherto hopelessly afflicted— who are now dally receiving re- newed life a*'.! strength from this benign remedy— we slncercly leave thexlrculatlon ot its wonderful fame— but to those unfortunate offerers'Who have been Induced by heartless falsehood to take of iwurlous articles, and thus had their hopes of cure blighted, we ad- STonTya trial of » The True Old Parrs Life P1I1.. R which from Itoe etspeiience which thousands of cases have now furnished, many i ® confidently and sokemniy recommended to all- to those who are > re latonHng un'ter disease, of whatever hind— to those who are • suffering ibe debility. or slow decay of r -'„„.,,/ — to all we say, I RY IHIS EXTRA- UiSv, and you will find such beneficial effect, from it as no other medicine ever did or can produce. % e "" nl to ask for » The True Old Parr'. Life Pills " and oj- . t. .^ nature in full " Ann Porter Parr' on tke outside uZol - io notTe Indtfced to take any pill, a, Old Parr', which vrupp* as th are sure tn hc spurious— any one maylmt- Zte'he words on the stamp- but It is FKI. ONY w IMITATE T » K late me fot rea,„ , rofitf, will sometime! try to put off the - lo-"' butwaRt of the , i8u » ture wl" " onee uelect the imiioslti, on V. 4*- My first you will find In the country c My second Is fond of the mire; field, My whole I now hope I shall aoo- But, my readers, I now must ' see revealed, PREPARI D ONLY AT THE DEPOT, 1, BRIDE- LANE, CITY, LONDON. , « ,, » N ™ ARE WHOLESALE ANII RETAIL AOENTS ITOR THIS MEDTC"*, '*. VR0" W" 0M " MAY AT ALL TMIS *" HAD VI. retire. My first did once offer " My second's dread J and fall. And true It Is— 11 ed by mankind ; My whole is of •> » you all— £ - the monkey kind. IJjgR rrq A noble beast, tha' ' An ancient gam' , ' the woods resOti- nS, A bird of prev « Roman Hl « tnr„ th. r „, Roman History found , Another fou 0' d' J? V ^ ay. . oar, on high, * The inltlaW° fi^% trn dctyJhe ">' « ,0 « And unc, ontroli'd t> « .. i„„ Y, '. ame' Blackfriar'A ROAD° " PM'loa « » en ' twill name. GENUINE „ . \ tanks, Bu 1 rln| Bt » , lINGUAMI- i Vgglst. BUTTON :- Wbiu. « ' BOLTON La tra t„ e Chronicle Ofiue. ^ HALIFAX:— Mr. 1. LIEI Z'l'.- Hr. Carlton, ( lat," Mox- "" n Druegl. t, Market Pla.^. LEEDS:— Buckton, " lime* lice, Clapham, Druggl « t. EEDS : — Briggate and Lord Druggists, Kirkgate. F IVERPOOL :— Johnson and Sons, Church Street,— Procter, Drug- gist, Ranelagh Street} & Wat- son, Byrom Street. MANCHESTER: — Ingham and Westmacott, 46, Market Street. PRKSTON : — Armitror g, Drug- gist, Church Streat. SHEFFIELD :— Ridge and Jack- son, 41 . Mercury Office." STOCKPORT:— Fowler, Druggist, rt ridge street. , ^ and Published by E. LLOYQ, 231, and a, 8. HMttW Strand.
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