York has raised its head, and still waves unmolested. I call on you to rally round your Protector, that he may guard the prize." ("Long live King Richard!" rose like the sound of thunder, and echoed through the vaulted hall). "I thank you, friends, but that is not my wish: but should the crown fall into feeble hands, it will be time for me to guard it then, and keep it safe from those who long in vain have sought it. Never shall the royal Lion that has so long floated in victory over many a bloody field, fall to the earth unclaimed, while Glo'ster's hand can lift it, and swords like yours can hem him round in safety,"

As he uttered the last sentence, he seized the royal banner of England in his hand, and waved it aloft amid the shouts of "Long live King Richard!” “ Long live brave Glo'ster!" "No baby King!" The colour quitted the Lady Anne's cheek as she lifted up her eyes to gaze on the Duke, who stood with flushed brow on the throne, holding the flag at arm's length, in a warlike attitude, and pointing with his drawn sword to the rich emblazoning enwrought thereon. The guests in the hall also stood up, and loud huzzas, and the waving of drinking vessels, and deafening shouts, mingled with the sound of music, and the cries of "Long live Richard the Third!"

When the din had a little subsided, Glo'ster and his attendants took their departure, for their steeds had long been waiting in the court-yard. The Lady Anne, with Bridget Crosby and other ladies, also arose, and left the hall amid the drunken cheers of the guests, and entered the great dining parlour. But even there the noise of the revellers penetrated as they broke out at intervals in rude songs, or drank to the long reign of Richard. For many of Buckingham's followers were there, and had received instructions to prepare the minds of all present for the information that Glo'ster would soon be king.

It does not come within the limits of our tale to follow Glo'ster to the Tower, and describe his interview with Hastings, whom he caused to be beheaded a few hours after his departure from the banquet, neither have we space to follow all his actions until he obtained the crown; we shall confine ourselves more particularly to those which took place at Crosby Hall.

Another morning had arisen, and all sounds of revelry were hushed in the hall, some of the guests had fallen asleep upon the floor, and there remained

during the night, others had retired to their homes; and the Lady Anne, attended by Bridget Crosby, who had now be come her confident, were walking in the pleasance, or pleasure-garden that extended behind the north end of the building.

It was a beautiful spot, laid out after the quaint manner of the period, and contained many of those old flowers whose names we have yet retained, and many of them are now only to be found in their wild state. Hedges of box were cut into grotesque forms, peacocks and dragons, and fish, and fanciful shapes which had no living forms. By the side of moss-roses and sweet-williams, grew wind-flowers, and canterbury-bells, and adders tongue, and cuckoo - flowers, heart's-ease and true-love, and many others, which were supposed to flower only on particular days, dedicated to different saints. Anne appeared dejected, and walked along the serpent-like, gravel paths in silence, sometimes glancing on Bridget's face, then on the ground.

"I have a great love for flowers," said Bridget. "Father Philip maintains that many of them are holy, and blow in honour of the saints."

said

"And the yellow crocus," Bridget, "puts forth on good St. Valentine's day, and the daisy on St. Margaret's, for it is Margaret's herb, and I have some rhymes written by one Geoffrey Chaucer, where he says,

"And in speciel one called so of the day,
The day's-eye, a flower white and red.
And in French called La belle Marguerite,
O commendable flower and most in mind."

Which we do even now call Margaret's flower."

"And the early daffodil," said Anne, "blows on St. David's day, and the golden pilewort, on St. Perpetua's, and the crown-imperial never fails to appear on the celebration of St. Edward."

"Marry but our lady's-smock is a flower that always obeys the Holy Virgin's behest, and cometh to commemorate her annunciation; a true type of her innocence are its silvery bells," said Bridget.

"So have I deemed in sooth," replied Anne, "that the bright marigold is like

the glory that circles her holy brow, and Father Ambrose avouches that it was named Mary's-gold, after the halo that emanates therefrom, which we see enwrought on the chapel - window; the blue-bell also cometh on St. George's day, for it was a colour he loved when on earth, and a flower he held sacred." "And I have made comment of many," said Bridget, "that others have made no mention of, such as the yellow-flag, flowering on St. Nicodemede, and the red-poppy on St Barnabas' day, and the scarlet-lychin on St. John the Baptist's; but most white flowers appear in honour of the Blessed Virgin, and the white-lily never fails to grace the day of her visitation, but the midsummer-rose always begins to fade at the feast of Mary Magdalen."

"There are many mysteries hidden in flowers I trow," replied the Lady Anne, "signs and resemblances that we wot not of, and deep meanings which were known to the holy fathers of old, but are now forgotten; I would that we were conversant with all their types, and sacred emblems."

They had by this time reached an old summer-house, dark with the twines of ivy, and redolent with the perfume of woodbine, and here they seated themselves, listening to the birds that chanted their merry songs from the surrounding trees-for the wealth of acres stretched out behind Crosby Hall, rich in gardens and pastures, and fruitful orchards.

"I feel very spiritless this morning, sweet Bridget," said Anne, sighing deeply; "I had but little sleep all night long, and what I had, was broken by frightful dreams, enough to make a brave heart blench; my husband too, awoke me, thrice calling on Clarence, and on Hastings in his sleep, and trembling like a guilty wretch, whose reckoning hour is

"I do not love his Grace," said Bridget, "so well as I was wont; methinks there was but little need to take off Hasting's head, as they did yesternight."

"And is the good Lord dead?" said Lady Anne: "ah, well-a-day, and I did fear 't was so. Bridget, it will be my turn next to die, for in his sleep last night I heard him mutter my name, as if he thought that I was pleading for my life; I heard him say distinctly, Anne my wife must die,' and then he clutched me fiercely by the arm, until I shrieked for pain, and he awoke and said, 'hush! hush! 't was but a dream.''

"Holy Mary shield us!" ejaculated Bridget; "in sooth I do believe, that in our dreams we are forewarned of things that come to pass, and that good saints do visit us in visions, and that the spirits of those we loved, or have injured, hover around our pillows, blessing us in sleep or filling our minds with thoughts of bale, and terrible images."

"Oh, Bridget!" exclaimed Anne, "my conscience oft reproaches me, and my heart quails within me, when I think of those who are no more; and all that I have loved and doated on, are gone; indeed I would not wish to live, and yet I fear to die. I dreamed last night, that the young princes lay lifeless on a wild sea-shore, and oh! methought their cold dead fingers were pointed to me; and as I gazed, a huge wave came and washed me in the sea, and on the yeasty waves we all three rode—the living and the dead! and that the foam in its fierce fury loosened their pale arms, and then they clasped me, cold as chilling ice, and then a voice came from the deep-it sounded like my Edward's-and called me to come away; and then methought the waves assumed Glos'ter's face, and that on every ridge his arm arose grasping a bloody sword, the very same with which he slew my lord at Tewksbury. Then the scene changed, and I was here in Crosby Hall in bed alone, and men in armour came, with daggers in their hands, and held a lamp above my head, and as one uplifted his arm to strike me, I shrieked with fear and woke; and then I slept again, and the same men appeared with lights and daggers. Oh Bridget, I do fear that ere many more days are darkened, I shall have run my race; but I am half prepared, such bodings are true warnings.'

"Ah me! I like not your dream, lady," said Bridget, "and in these large chambers, and winding galleries, any one might come and take away our lives ere one could cry God help me.' I would my father were alive and in this home again, and you would leave these plotting courtiers, and dwell with us. Make known unto the prioress your fears, methinks she would protect you, for no one dare to invade the sanctity of the Priory."

"Thou deemest wrong fair Bridget," replied Anne, "the assassin's dagger hath reached the holy altar ere now; and I am Glo'ster's wife, I know not how, no more than the poor bird that trembling gazes on the dreaded serpent until immersed within its jaws, when it should

have flown away. I cannot flee away; he hath a power over me which I cannot resist, a spell I cannot break, although it leads me on to death."

Anne threw her head upon Bridget's shoulder, as she uttered the last sentence, and wept bitterly. At length a page entered the garden, and announced a message from the Duke of Glo'ster, summoning her to Westminster, to be crowned queen. A deep shuddering pervaded Anne when she heard the news, and had not Bridget supported her she would have fallen upon the flower-bed by which she stood. When the page had received an answer, that she would attend shortly, and had retired, Anne again gave full vent to the current of her sorrows.

"Oh Bridget," said she, "I go to be made queen; happy should I be, to live with thee, and pour my sorrows on thy bosom, but now I shall have no one to listen to me. None but the liveried menials of a court, ready to fulfil their king's behest, to bring the goblet or the dagger. It will not be for aye,-Anne's days are numbered."

66

Nay lady, say not so, his Grace may yet mean well," replied Bridget; "and you can again return to Crosby Hall, and I will shew you all the flowers, and old Cornelius, the gardener, will tell us all the names they bear. Stay not away sweet lady; I do love you as my mother, and will be more than a daughter to you. Importune his Grace to let you soon return, even when your coronation is

over.'

"I will! I will!" answered Anne, "my heart can never be wholly desolate while it has one like thee to cling to." They again embraced each other, and separated in tears, just as Lord Stanley appeared at a turning of the garden walk to urge her departure. Steeds were in readiness in the court-yard; the one which lady Anne mounted was richly caparisoned, the trappings were of gold and silver, and the saddle cloth was emblazoned with the arms of England. A knight in armour held the bridle, and at the sound of the trumpet the lady and her attendants disappeared, and the ring of their horses' hoofs echoed through the arched hall, mingled with the dying cadence of silver-snaring trumpets.

Concluded at page

IGNORANCE.

In all cabals and factions, the ignorant are most violent; for a bee is not busier than a blockhead.

AN ILL-USED GENTLEMAN.

(For the Parterre.)

CHAP. II,

"BUT what vexed me most was, that it entirely killed my attitude! I had taken some pains with it,-it was, in fact, supremely good, and I had made up my mind that it would produce a sensation! I was, of course, unwilling to change it until the audience had sufficiently recovered from their ill-timed mirth to be able to appreciate its elegance and originality. This they were in no hurry to do, and I remained standing in the same posture until an impatient bumpkin in the gallery bawled out, I say, Measter Hamlet, be'st goin' to speak or noa?' This was rather too much, and so disconcerted me, that I forgot the text, but went on (appropriately enough) apostrophising the Spirit, Remember thee! ay, thou poor ghost!' and egad, I will not forget him in a hurry!"

But I am afraid I grow tiresome. It is a very different matter enjoying the good humoured detail of a gentleman's ludicrous distresses over a bottle, and coldly relating them to the public on paper. Suffice it to say, that we enjoyed each other's company mightily; and on his informing me, among other matters, that his "benefit was fixed" for the ensuing week, when he proposed electrifying the inhabitants of B- with his "Othello," I begged to know where tickets were to be secured. Upon this he produced from his pocket sundry pieces of card, on which were written Mr. Stanley's Night-Boxes." Of these I took halfa-dozen, at two shillings each, paying the money for the same; the unexpected and unusual feel of which so elated the worthy tragedian, that he pressed me to walk towards the post road, where he could find an inn, and he would treat me to a beef-steak and a bottle of wine. This, however, I declined, and promising faithfully to see him make his grand effort in the ensuing week, I shook hands and parted with the happiest and most amusing "ill-used gentleman" I had ever met with.

The Monday evening of the ensuing week 'saw me quietly ensconced in the stage-box of the temporary theatre at B- It was a building used for all the great events which occurred in that marvellous little town. All sorts of mountebanks, jugglers, travelling por

trait painters, equestrians, quacks, lecturers on elocution, and other birds of passage, hired it during their brief sojourn; in it the B- Debating Society expended its weekly accumulation of eloquence; divines of every persuasion, but without any stationary congregation, held forth beneath its sheltering and im portant roof; and in it the several Auxiliary Branch Societies of the district annually gathered themselves together. In time of great political excitement, how ever, its mere local notoriety was merged in its astonishing national importance. Public meetings were held in it, to overawe the government; and it was well understood by the inhabitants of Bgenerally, and by the leading speakers especially, that the passage of many important measures lately was principally owing (though the government did not like to confess it) to the overpowering floods of declamation that had issued from this very edifice. At present it was in the hands of Weazle, who had selected it as an eligible place from whence to disseminate a knowledge of Shakspeare, and the legitimate drama, over the surrounding district; and, with the exception of the scenery, machinery, dresses, decorations, company, and orchestral department, the arrangements certainly did him credit.

It was a capital house. Nearly all the aristocracy of B-, consisting of the principal grocer, butcher, linen-draper, hatter, and publican, with their respective families, crowded the boxes with beauty and fashion; whilst several farmers and farmeresses in the vicinity, represented the agricultural interest. The rest of the audience consisted of the usual miscellaneous contributions of a county district. Altogether there had not been such a house in B- within the memory of the oldest play-going inhabitant; it contained upwards of 18. sterling, and the austere of the neighbourhood predicted that some signal calamity was certain to follow such a scene of gaiety and dissipation.

It is not my intention (did I possess the power) to systematically criticize the entertainments of the evening; parts of the performance seemed a very fair counter-part to the account furnished me of Hamlet; notwithstanding which, the audience maintained that grave and decorous demeanour which ought always to pervade a house on the representation of a tragedy. I cannot, however, refrain from a passing notice of the Othello and

Desdemona of the evening, personated by my friend and Mrs. Weazle. I have seen Kean as the Moor, and though much gratified on the whole, candour compels me to say, in justice to an unknown great man, in many respects he was decidedly inferior to Wiggins-that is to say, Stanley. I know very little about such matters, but it appeared to me that Kean neither stamped nor tore his hair (wool) with half the fury, nor rolled his eyes about until nothing could be seen but the white, with one quarter the effect. In the celebrated scene touching the loss of the handkerchief, there was no comparison. Wiggins reiterated his demand for "the handkerchief!"-" the handkerchief!" "the handkerchief!"-with a force, increasing the volume of his voice at each interrogation, of which Kean was physically incapable. Opinions may differ about shades of excellence, but facts are stubborn things; and it was ascertained that he was most distinctly heard by the village blacksmith, on the opposite side of the street, during the operation of shoeing a horse. This speaks volumes, His exertions drew down thunders of applause, and proved among other things, that whatever might be the state of the pockets, prospects, or habiliments of the "ill-used gentleman," his lungs, at least, were in excellent condition, and free from the slightest taint of pulmonary affection.

ters

In the more pathetic portions of the character, I cannot say that I felt tearfully inclined; but this I rather attribute to a want of becoming sensibility on my part, as the frequent application of white handkerchiefs to the eye, and adjacent features of sundry farmers' daugh and dress-makers, incontestibly proved that my friend knew how to move the waters. In short, to use the emphatic words of the judicious and discriminating critic of the "B- Advertiser," with whom Wiggins used to smoke his pipe and take his pot—“it was one of the most powerful, pathetic, terrific, and energetic performances ever witnessed on any stage in any age.'

Of the Desdemona of Mrs. Weazle, I cannot speak so highly. The fact was, she was not exactly the figure for the part, being truly, as my friend had described her, "five feet eleven with beard." She was, too, extremely stout in proportion even to her height, and had a stride like a grenadier's, so that she fairly put one in mind of the heroines of the gender masculine in the ancient time, when, in

the words of an old poet, men acted "that were between

Forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen ; With bone so large, and nerve so incompliant, When you call'd Desdemona-enter Giant!" She was, in good truth, a formidable looking lady; and as I gazed at her, I thought, despite his faults, with sorrow and commiseration of Mr. Weazle. In her earlier years, she might have had a waist, but at present such an article did not constitute a portion of her anatomy, so that there being no connecting link, her shoulders had the appearance of directly resting on a much more substantial pedestal. A glance at the extremity of the most prominent feature of her face was enough to convince the most sceptical, that the insinuation respecting the attachment to spirituous liquors was not without foundation. In addition to all this, she was labouring under a very decided hoarseness, and her white satin dress, from some cause or other, formed anything but a contrast to the colour of her lord's complexion; so that, taking all things into consideration, she did not exactly come up to one's preconceived ideas of

"The gentle lady wedded to the Moor;" and when her father, before the senate, describe her as

" a maiden never bold: Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion Blushed at herself;"

the grocer's heiress, who had been at a watering-place on the coast, and knew something, looked very significantly at the publican's daughter; upon which, the publican's daughter shrugged up her

shoulders.

The play, however, all things considered, went off very decorously, with the single exception of one scene, when I was a little apprehensive that there was going to be tragedy in earnest. It occurred after Othello had applied that very unbecoming epithet to his lady, which gives rise to Desdemona's delicate piece of circumlocution:

"DES.-Am I that name, Iago? "IAGO.-What name, fair lady? "DES.-Such as she says my lord did say I was?"

Just as Mrs. Weazle had made this interrogation, I heard a most expressive "Hem!" and on looking to the sidewing from whence it proceeded, saw my friend Othello winking at me in evident allusion to the question that had just been put by Desdemona, and the wellunderstood frailty of Mrs. W., with his finger laid very significantly on one side

of his nose. Desdemona, too, heard and understood the purport of the "Hem!" and, turning suddenly round, caught Othello in the fact, with his finger laid as aforesaid. Her face assumed at but three strides to the side-wing, and once a most terrific expression : she made had not the gallant Moor effected a precipitate retreat, heaven only knows what A might have been the consequence. waive her private resentments, in order cry of order, however, induced her to to contribute to the gratification of the public, and the scene proceeded harmoniously.

Three days afterwards a gentleman called upon me. It was Stanley. He second-hand clothes gave him quite an was in extravagant spirits, and a suit of his place in the London coach, and after imposing appearance. He had taken paying his fare, retained the almost incredible sum of 71. 10s. in his pocketbook, on a spare leaf of which was Advertiser." Fame and fortune, he said, pasted the criticism from the "Bwere now within his grasp-he had only to stretch forth his hand. If he succeeded, of which he did not entertain the shadow of a doubt, "untold gold," he assured me, would be but a slight acknowledgment for my kindness. intended, however, once more to change his name, as a "provincial reputation" he said was rather injurious than otherwise in London, in consequence of the superciliousness of the Metropolitan critics; but under whatever cognomen, after his first decided hit, I should indubitably hear from him.

He

Two years have now elapsed, and I have not heard from him. Poor fellow! I am apprehensive his benefit at Bhas been but a partial gleam of sunshine, and that he is still kept back by the caprices of fortune, the blindness of managers, and the envy and ill-will of his brother actors-in fact, a regular conspiracy of the whole world. Never mind-he may be penniless, but he can never be poor whilst he retains his buoyant spirits and affluent imagination; though I am afraid he still continues in his own opinion, what I found him— a very "ILL-USED GENTLEMAN."

COURAGE

WILLIAM COX.

is corporeal, not mental. It consists in a firm, strong texture of the nerves.

A man's happiness and integrity are not much worth, if he cannot face danger with boldness.