"One month? Nothing less, than a miracle! The time is too short.

Impossible!"

"That is my business. I have both the will and the power. Is it a

bargain?"

Conrad again drained the cup, and things looked brighter. He felt

invigorated. His courage came afresh, and he answered firmly,

"A bargain."

"Give me thy hand."

"Oh, mein Herr--not so hard. Thy gripe is like a smithy vice."

"Beg pardon of thy tender extremities. To-morrow then, at this hour, we

begin." Immediately after which intimation the stranger departed.

Conrad returned to his own dwelling. He felt restless, uneasy.

Apprehensions of coming evil haunted him. Night was tenfold more

appalling. Horrid visions kept him in continual alarm.

He arose feverish and unrefreshed. Yesterday's bargain did not appear so

pleasant in his eyes; but fear gave way apace, and ere the appointed

hour he was in his little work-room, where the mysterious instructor

found him in anxious expectation. He drew the requisite materials from

under his cloak, a well-primed canvass already prepared. The pallet was

covered, and Conrad sat down to obey his master's directions.

"What shall be our subject?" inquired the pupil.

"A head. Proceed."

"A female?"

"Yes. But follow my instructions implicitly."

Conrad chalked out the outline. It was feebly, incorrectly drawn; but

the stranger took his crayon, and by a few spirited touches gave life,

vigour, and expression to the whole. Conrad was in despair.

"O that it were in my power to have done this!" he cried, putting one

hand on his brow, and looking at the picture as though he would have

devoured it.

"Now for colour," said the stranger; and he carefully directed his pupil

how to lay in the ground, to mingle and contrast the different tints, in

a manner so far superior to his former process, that Conrad soon began

to feel a glow of enthusiasm. His fervour increased, the latent spark of

genius was kindled. In short, the unknown seemed to have imbued him with

some hitherto unfelt attributes,--invested him either with new powers,

or awakened his hitherto dormant faculties. As before, by a few touches,

the crude, spiritless mass became living and breathing under the

master's hand. Not many hours elapsed ere a pretty head, respectably

executed, appeared on the canvass. Conrad was in high spirits.

He felt a new sense, a new faculty, as it were, created within him. He

worked industriously. Every hour seemed to condense the labour and

experience of years. He made prodigious advances. His master came daily

at the same time, and at length his term of instruction drew to a close.

The last morning of the month arrived; and Conrad, unknown to his

neighbours, had attained to the highest rank in his profession. His

paintings, all executed under the immediate superintendence of the

stranger, were splendid specimens of art.

* * * * *

In the year----, all Paris was moved with the extraordinary performances

of a young artist, whose portraits were the most wonderful, and his

miniatures the most exquisite, that eyes ever beheld. They looked

absolutely as though endowed with life, real flesh and blood to all

appearance; and happy were those who could get a painting from his hand.

The price was enormous, and the marvellous facility with which they were

dispatched was not the least extraordinary part of the business. There

was a mystery too, about him, provokingly delightful, especially to the

female portion of the community. In place of living in a gay and

fashionable part of the city, his lodging was in a miserable garret,

overlooking one of the gloomiest streets of the metropolis. His manners,

too, were forbidding and reserved. Instead of exhibiting the natural

buoyancy of his years, he looked care-worn and dejected; nor was he ever

known to smile.

After a period, whispers got abroad that several of his female subjects

came to strange and untimely deaths. They were seized with some

dangerous malady, accompanied by frightful delusions. In general, they

fancied themselves possessed. Wailings, shrieks, and horrible

blasphemies proceeded from the lips of the sufferers. These reports were

doubtless exaggerated, the marvellous being a prodigiously accumulative

and inventive faculty; yet enough remained, apparently authentic, to

justify the most unfavourable suspicions.

About this time a young Italian lady, of a noble house, arrived on a

visit to her brother in the suite of the Florentine embassy. This

princely dame, possessed of great wealth and beauty, was not long

unprovided with lovers; one especially, a handsome official in the royal

household, De Vessey by name, and as gallant a cavalier as ever lady

looked upon. But her term of absence being nigh expired, the lovers were

in great perplexity; and nothing seemed so likely to contribute to their

comfort, during such unavoidable separation, as a miniature portrait of

each from the hands of this inimitable painter. Leonora sat first, and

the lover was in raptures. Hour by hour he watched the progress of his

work, in a little gloomy chamber, where the artist, like some automaton

fixture, was always found in the same place, occupied too, as it might

seem, without intermission.

"The gaze of that strange painter distresses me inexpressibly," said

Leonora to her companion, as they went for the last time to his

apartment. "I have borne it hitherto without a murmur, but words cannot

describe the reluctance with which I endure his glance; yet while I feel

as though my very soul abhorred it, it penetrates, nay, drinks up and

withers my spirit. Though I shrink from it, some influence or

fascination, call it as thou wilt, prevents escape; I cannot turn away

my eyes from his terrible gaze."

"Thou art fanciful, my love," said De Vessey; "the near prospect of our

parting makes thee apt to indulge these gloomy impressions. Be of good

cheer; nothing shall harm thee in my presence. 'Tis the last sitting;

put on a well-favoured aspect, I beseech thee. Remember, this

portraiture will be my only solace during the long, long hours of thine

absence."

As they entered the artist's chamber, the picture lay before him, which

he seemed to contemplate with such absorbing intensity, that he was

hardly aware of their entrance. He did not weep, but grief and pity were

strangely mingled in his glance. It was but for a moment; he quickly

resumed his usual attitude and expression. Whether the previous

conversation had made her lover liable to take the tone and character of

her own thoughts, we know not; but, for the first time, he fancied

Leonora's apprehensions were not entirely without excuse. He looked on

the artist, and it excited almost a thrill of apprehension. But speedily

chiding himself for these untoward fancies, he felt that little was

apparent, either in look or manner, but what the painter's peculiar and

unexampled genius might sufficiently explain.

Suddenly his attention was riveted on the lady. He saw her lips quiver

and turn pale, as though she would have swooned. In a moment he was at

her side. The support seemed to reanimate the fainting maiden, her head

drooping on his shoulder. Almost gasping for utterance, she whispered,

"Take me hence, I want breath,--air, air!" De Vessey lifted her in his

arms, and bore her forth into the open door-way. Trembling, shuddering,

and looking round, the first words she uttered were,--

"We are watched,--by some unseen being in yonder chamber, I am

persuaded. Didst not mark an antique, dismal-looking ebony cabinet,

immediately behind the painter?"

"I did, and admired its exquisite workmanship, as though wrought by some

cunning hand."

"As I fixed my eyes on those little traceries, it might be fancy, but

methought I saw the bright flash of a human eye gazing on me."

"Oh, my Leonora, indulge not these gloomy impressions. Throw off thy

wayward fancies. 'Tis but the reflex image the mind mistakes for outward

realities. When disordered, she discerns not the substance from the

shadow. Thou art well-nigh recovered. Come, come, let us in. To-day is

the last of our task; prithee take courage and return."

"On one condition only; if thou take the chair first, and note well an

open scroll to the right, where those fawns and satyrs are carved."

"Agreed. And now shake off thy fears, my love."

De Vessey led her again to the apartment, and, as though without

consideration, sat down, his face directly towards the cabinet. He fixed

his eyes thereon a few seconds only, when Leonora saw him start up

suddenly with a troubled aspect, and grasp the hilt of his sword. Then

turning to the painter, he said sternly,--

"So!--We have intruders here, I trow."

"Intruders? None!" was the artist's reply, without betraying either

surprise or alarm.

"That we'll see presently," said the cavalier, hastening to the cabinet;

which, with hearty good will, he essayed to open.

"Why this outrage?" inquired the painter, colouring with a hectic flush.

"Because 'tis my good pleasure," was the haughty reply. The door

resisted his utmost efforts. "Doubtless held by some one within. Open,

or by this good sword I'll make a passage through both door and

carcase."

The hinges slowly gave way, the folding doors swung open, and displayed

a grinning skeleton!

"Ah! what lodger is this?"

"Mine art requires it," said the painter with a ghastly smile; but in

that smile was an expression so fearful, yet mysterious, that even De

Vessey quailed before it. Another miniature portrait, a precise copy of

the one in hand, hung from the neck of the skeleton.

Leonora, with a loud shriek, covered her face; but the lover, though far

from satisfied himself, strove to assure his mistress, and besought her

not to indulge any apprehension.

"You are disturbed, lady," said the artist. "'Tis but a harmless piece

of earth, a mouldering fabric of dust, a thing, a form we must all one

day assume. But to-morrow, to-morrow, if you will, we resume our work."

Leonora, relieved by the intimation, gladly consented, fain, for a

while, to escape from this terrible chamber.

"Nought living was there, of a truth," said the cavalier, in evident

perplexity, as they regained their coach. "But I saw plain enough, or

imagination played me the prank, a semblance of a bright and flashing

eye on the spot pointed out. Something incomprehensible hangs about the

whole!"

Leonora agreed in this conclusion, expressing a fear lest harm should

happen to themselves thereby. They were not ignorant of the whispers

afloat, but hitherto treated them either with ridicule or indifference.

Suspicion, however, once awake, mystery once apprehended, every

circumstance, even the most trivial, is seized upon, the mind bending

all to one grand object which haunts and excites the imagination.

Having left his companion at her brother's dwelling, De Vessey came to

his own, moody and dispirited. A vague sense of some grievous but

impending misfortune hung heavily upon him. Night brought no mitigation

of his fears. Spectres, skeletons, and demon-painters haunted his

slumbers. He awoke in greater torment than ever. The duplicate portrait

was brought to his remembrance with a vividness, an intensity so

appalling, that he almost expected to behold the skeleton wearer at his

bedside.

Involved in a labyrinth of inextricable surmises, and not knowing what

course to pursue, he arose early, and walked forth without aim or design

towards the church of Notre Dame.

The red sun was just bursting through a thick atmosphere of mist,

illuminating its two dark western towers, which looked even more gloomy

under a bright and glowing sky, like melancholy in immediate contrast

with hilarity and joy.

He passed the Morgue, or dead-house, where bodies found in the Seine are

exposed, in order that they may be owned or recognised. Impelled by

curiosity, he entered. One space alone was occupied. He could not surely

be deceived when he saw the body of the unfortunate painter! Those

features were too well remembered to be mistaken. Here was new ground

for conjecture, fresh wonder and perplexity. He left this melancholy

exhibition and entered the cathedral. Mass was celebrating at one of the

altars. De Vessey joined in adoration, strolling away afterwards towards

the vaults: one of them was open. From some vague, unaccountable

impulse, he thus accosted the sexton:

"Whose grave is this, friend?"

"A maid's--mayhap."

"Her name?"

"The only remaining descendant of the Barons Montargis."

"I have some knowledge of that noble gentlewoman; she was just about to

be married. What might be the nature of her malady?"

"Why, verily there be as many guesses as opinions. The doctors were all

at fault, and, 'tis said, even now in great dispute. The king's

physician tried hard to save her. Old Frere Jeronymo, the confessor,

will have it she was possessed; but all his fumigations, exorcisms,

paters, and holy water could not cast out the foul fiend. She died

raving mad!"

"A miserable portion for one so young and high-born. Was there no

visible cause?"

"Cause!--Ay, marry; if common gossip be not an arrant jade. Her portrait

had been taken by that same limner who, they say, has been taught in the

devil's school, and can dispatch a likeness with the twirl of his

brush."

"And what of that?" cried De Vessey, in an agony of impatience.

"Why, the same fate has happened to several of our city dames. That is

all."

"What has happened?"

"They have gone mad, and either felt, or fancied, some demon had gotten

them in keeping. For my part, I pretend not to a knowledge of the

matter. But you seem strangely moved, methinks."

The cavalier was nigh choking with emotion. Sick at heart, and with a

fearful presentiment of impending evil, he turned suddenly away.

His next visit, as may be supposed, was to his mistress. He found her in

great agitation. The portrait had been sent home the preceding night,

and, completely finished, lay before her,--an exquisite, nay marvellous,

specimen of art. She was gazing on her own radiant counterpart as he

entered. They both agreed that something more than ordinary ran through

the whole proceedings, though unable to comprehend their meaning. De

Vessey related his discovery in the Morgue, but not his subsequent

interview with the sexton.

Ere night, Leonora was seized with a strange and frightful disease.

Symptoms of insanity were soon developed. She uttered fearful cries;

calling on the painter in language wild and incoherent, but of terrific

import.

The lover was at his wits' end. He vowed to spare no efforts to save

her, though scarcely knowing what course to pursue, or in what quarter

to apply for help.

His first care was to seek the dwelling of a certain renowned doctor, a

German, whose extraordinary cures and mode of treatment had won for him

great wealth and reputation. Though by some accounted a quack and

impostor, nevertheless De Vessey hoped, as a last resource, so cunning a

physician might be able to point at once the source and cure of this

occult malady.

Doctor Hermann Sichel lived in one of those high, antique, dreary

looking habitations, now pulled down, situate in the Rue d'Enfer. A

common staircase conducted to several suites of apartments, tenanted by

various occupants, and at the very summit dwelt this exalted personage.

A pull at the ponderous bell-handle gave notice of De Vessey's

approach, when, after due deliberation, it might seem, and a long trial

to the impatient querent, a little wicket was cautiously slid back,

behind a grating in the door. A face, partially exhibited, demanded his

errand.

"Thy master, knave!"

"He is in the very entrails of a sublime study. Not for my beard, grey

though it be, dare I break in upon him."

"Mine errand is urgent," said De Vessey; "and, look thee, say a noble

cavalier hath great need of succour at his hands."

"Grammercy, sir cavalier, and hath not everybody an errand of like

moment?--thy business, peradventure, less urgent than fifty others whose

suit I have denied this blessed day. I tell thee, my master may not be

disturbed!"

De Vessey held up a coin, temptingly, before the grating. It would not

go through, and the crusty Cerberus gently undid a marvellous array of

chains, bars, and other ingenious devices, opening a slit wide enough

for its insertion.

"Wider! thou trusty keeper," said the artful suitor outside. "I cannot

fly though a key-hole!"

A hand was carefully protruded. The cavalier, espying his opportunity,

thrust first his sword, afterwards himself, through the aperture, in

spite of curses and entreaties from the greedy porter. He was

immediately within a dark entrance or vestibule; the astonished and

angry menial venting his wrath, in no measured phrases, on the intruder.

De Vessey, in a peremptory tone, demanded to be led forthwith into the

doctor's presence. The old man delayed for awhile, almost speechless

from several causes. His breath was nigh spent. Wrath on the one hand,

fear of his master's displeasure on the other, kept him, like antagonist

forces, perpetually midway between both.

"Lead the way, knave, or, by the beard of St. Louis, I'll seek him

through the house! Quick! thou hast legs; if not, speak! mine errand is

urgent, and will not wait."

A stout and determined cavalier, with a strong gripe, and a sword none

of the shortest, was not to be trifled with; and, after many

expostulations, warnings, threats, had failed of their effect, he at

length doggedly consented.

"Thou wilt give me the coin, then, sir cavalier?"

"Ay, when thou hast earned it. Away!"

Passing through a narrow passage, lighted from above, his conductor

paused before a curiously carved oaken door, at which three taps

announced a message.

"Now enter, and pray for us both a safe deliverance. But, prithee, tell

him it was not my fault thou hast gotten admission."

The door slowly opened, as though without an effort, and De Vessey was

immediately in the presence of the physician, evidently to the surprise

of the learned doctor himself, who angrily demanded his business and the

ground of his intrusion.

"Mine hour is not yet come, young man. Wherefore shouldest thou, either

by stratagem or force, thrust thyself, unbidden, into our presence?"

"To buy or beg thine aid, if it be possible. The case admits not of

delay. I crave thy pardon, most reverend doctor, if that content thee;

and, rest assured, no largess, no reward shall be too great, if thou

restore one, I fear me, beyond earthly aid."

"Thus am I ever solicited," replied the sage, with a portentous scowl.

He was clad in a gown of dark stuff, with slippers to match; his poll

surmounted by a small black velvet skull-cap, from which his white,

intensely white, hair escaped in great profusion. His visage was not

swarthy, but of a leaden, pale complexion, where little could be

discerned of the wondrous microcosm within. Books, and manuscripts of

ancient form and character, emblazoned in quaint and mystic devices, lay

open on a long oak table, on which rested one elbow of the wise man;

the other was thrown over an arm of the high-backed chair whereon he

sat. The room contained plenty of litter in the shape of phials, boxes,

and other strange furniture. A cupola furnace was just heated, the

doctor, apparently, concocting some subtle compound.

"I am expected to wrest these helpless mortals even from the ravening

jaws of the grave! My skill never tried until beyond other aid!"

"But this disorder is of a sudden emergency. A lady of high birth and

lineage, a few hours since, was seized with a raging frenzy."

"A female, then!"

"Ay, and of such sweet temper and excellent parts, there be none to

match with her, body or mind, in Christendom."

"When did this malady attack her?"

"Almost immediately after a portrait, made by the celebrated painter,

was finished. Of him thou hast, doubtless, heard."

"The painter!--Ay!--There be more than thou have rued his skill. Young

man, thy pretty one is lost."

"Lost! Oh, say not so! I will give thee thine utmost

desire--riches--wealth thou hast never possessed, if thou restore her!"

"She is beyond my skill. Hast visited him since?"

"I have seen him. She is the last victim, if such be her fate. This very

morning, betimes, I saw his body in the Morgue."

"They have found him, then!" said the doctor, sharply. "Yet our bodies

are but exuviae. When cast off, this thinking, sentient principle within

has another tabernacle assigned to it, until the great consummation of

all things. But these are fables, idle tales, to the unlearned.

Nevertheless, I pity thy cruel fate, and, if aid can be afforded, will

call another to thine help. Hence! Thou shalt hear from me anon."

"And without loss of time; for every moment, methinks, our succour may

come too late."

"I will forthwith seek out one whom I have heretofore taken knowledge

of. Every science has its votaries,--its adepts; and this evil case hath

its remedy only by those skilled in arts called, however falsely,

supernatural. Even now, there be intelligences around us, which the

corporeal eye seeth not, nor can see, unless purged from the dross, the

fumes of mortality. Some, peradventure, by long and patient study, have

arrived on the very borders, the confines that separate visible from

invisible things; and become, as it were, the medium of intercourse for

mortals, who are, by this means, mightily aided in matters beyond

ordinary research. Put thine ear to this shell. Mark its voice, like the

sound of many waters. Are not these the invisible source, the essence of

its being? Has not every thing in like manner, even the most inanimate,

a tongue, a language, peculiar to itself--a soul, a spirit, pervading

its form, which moulds and fashions every substance according to its own

nature? Now, this voice thou canst not interpret, being unskilled;

knowing not the languages peculiar to every form and modification of

matter. Else would this beautiful type of the ever-rolling sea discourse

marvellously to thine ear. But thou hast not the key to unclose its

mystic tongue; hence, like any other unknown speech, 'tis but a confused

jumble of unmeaning sound. I have little more knowledge than thyself,

but there be those who can interpret. Vain man--presumptuous,

ignorant--scoffs at knowledge beyond his reach, and thinks his own dim,

nay darkened reason, glimmering as in a dungeon, the narrow horizon that

circumscribes his vision, the utmost boundary of all knowledge and

existence, while, beyond, lies the infinite and unknown, utterly

transcending his capacity and comprehension."

De Vessey drank up every word of this harangue; and something akin to

hope rose in his bosom, as he withdrew.

"Thou wilt have a message ere nightfall. An awful trial awaits thee ere

the spell can be countervailed."

The cavalier withdrew, suffering many wistful remarks from the old

door-keeper, who marvelled greatly at the interview so graciously

conceded by his master; while at the same time holding out his palm for

the promised largess.

De Vessey waited impatiently at his own dwelling for the expected

message. Evening drew on, dark and stormy. The wind roared along the

narrow streets in sharp and irregular gusts; while, pacing his chamber

in an agony of suspense, he fancied every sound betokened the

approaching communication. At length, when expectation was almost weary,

a louder rumbling was heard; a coach drew up at the door; a hasty knock,

and a heavy tramp; then footsteps ascending the staircase. The door

opened, and two _gens-d'armes_ entered.

"We have authority and instructions for the arrest of one Sigismund de

Vessey, on a charge of murder, made this day by deposition before the

Mayor and Prefecture of the Ville de Paris. The individual so named, we

apprehend, is before us."

"The same; though assuredly there is some mistake. Of whose death am I

accused?"

"Of one Conrad Bergmann, a painter, whose body, last night thrown into

the Seine, was to-day exposed in the Morgue. The rest will be explained

anon."

"But an engagement, one too of a most important nature, demands my

presence."

"No discretion is allowed us in this matter. The carriage waits."

However reluctant, De Vessey was forced to obey. Though confident of a

speedy release, this arrest at so important a juncture was provoking

enough. Leonora's recovery might probably depend on his exertions for

the next few hours, which were now suddenly wrested from him.

Leaving word that he would shortly return, the cavalier stept into the

vehicle, which immediately drove off.

In a little space the coach stopped, and De Vessey was invited to

alight. He was led up a narrow staircase; a door flew open. He entered.

Could it be; surely imagination betrayed his senses! He could scarcely

believe himself once more in the apartment of the painter! Yet there was

no mistaking what he saw. The ebony cabinet, the easel, table, chair,

all left as he saw them yesterday. But the living occupants were

strangely diverse. Two or three functionaries of the civil power, and,

in one corner, a black cloth, spread on the floor, concealed some

unknown object. The whole was lighted by a feeble lamp from the ceiling.

A dusky haze from the damp foggy atmosphere rendered objects

ill-defined, indistinct, almost terrific to an excited imagination. In

addition to the usual articles of furniture, was a desk, with writing

materials, at which one of the officers of justice appeared dictating

something to his secretary.

On De Vessey's entrance, the scribe made some minute preparatory to his

examination, which commenced as follows:

"Sigismund de Vessey?"

"The same."

"Being accused upon oath before us of murder, thou art brought hither to

confront thine accusers, and to answer this heinous charge. First, let

the body be produced."

The cloth was removed, and De Vessey beheld the corpse lying on a

mattress.

"Knowest thou this body?"

"I do," said the cavalier firmly.

"When was he seen by thee alive, the last time?"

"Yesterday, about noon."

"Where?"

"In this chamber."

"Not since?"

"Yes, but not living."

"Dead, sayest thou?"

"This morning in the Morgue."

"Not previously?"

"I have not. But pray to what purport this examination?"

"This will appear presently. When taken out of the river, marks were

found upon the throat, as though from strangulation. Knowest thou aught

of these?"

"I do not," said the accused indignantly.

This answer being written down, the examination was resumed.

"We have testimony that the unfortunate victim and thyself were seen

together about midnight; and, further, a short but violent struggle was

heard, and a heavy plunge; afterwards an individual, with whom thou art

identified, was seen departing in great haste, and entering the house

well known as thy residence in the Rue de----"

"A most foul and wicked fabrication, for purposes of which as yet I am

ignorant. Of such charges I hardly need affirm that I am innocent."

"Let the accuser stand forth."

To the surprise and horror of De Vessey, there appeared from a recess

the German doctor, Hermann Sichel, who, without flinching, recapitulated

the foregoing accusation. Moreover, he swore in the most positive terms

to his identity, and that not a doubt rested on his mind but De Vessey

was the murderer.

"In this very apartment," said the witness, "he, De Vessey, drew his

sword upon the painter yesterday, doubtless either from grudge or

jealousy; being enamoured of a fair Italian dame, Leonora da Rimini."

"Most abominable of liars!" said the accused, eyeing him with a furious

look. "How darest thou, to my face, bring this foul accusation. Thou

shalt answer for it with thy blood!"

"Hear him! What need of further testimony? His own betrayed him," said

the doctor, with unblushing effrontery.

"We have other witness thou wilt not dare to gainsay," said the

presiding officer. "This learned person is amply corroborated by

evidence that must effectually silence all denial. He hath referred us

to her who was present, Leonora da Rimini."

"Leonora! what, my own--my betrothed? She my accuser?"

"Spare thy speech and listen. We could not bring the maiden hither,

insomuch the nature of her malady admits not of removal: but her

evidence and accusation are duly attested, taken at her own request, not

many hours ago. The substance of her deposition is as follows: a

confession to her of thine intention to murder Conrad Bergmann, the

artist aforesaid, being jealous of his attentions; and furthermore, in

the agony of guilt, thou didst confess in her presence, having first

strangled, and afterwards thrown him into the river, hoping thereby to

conceal thy crime; then forcing her to swear she would keep the matter

secret, and threatening her life in case it were divulged. This outrage,

and this alone, hath nigh driven her frantic; her life being in jeopardy

from thy violence. What sayest thou, Sigismund de Vessey?"

"A lie, most foul and audacious! trumped up by that impostor! Leonora?

Impossible. I would not believe though it were from her own lips. Some

demon hath possessed her. This disorder is more than common madness."

He looked around. The whole was like the phantasma of some terrible

dream. Bewildered, and hardly knowing what course to pursue, in vain he

attempted to shake the testimony of the hoary villain before him; and

having at present none other means of rebutting the accusation, he was

ordered into close custody until the morrow.

Utterly unprepared with evidence, he knew not where to apply. That he

was the victim of some foul plot, so far appeared certain; but for what

purpose, and at whose instigation, was inexplicable.

Ere an hour had elapsed, De Vessey found himself in one of the cells of

a public dungeon, with ample leisure to form plans for proving his

innocence. He determined early on the morrow to acquaint his friends,

and employ a celebrated advocate to expose this villanous doctor, who no

doubt had designs either on his purse or person.

In a while, the prisoner fell asleep from fatigue and exhaustion. He was

awakened by a sudden glare across his eyelids. At first, imagining he

was under the influence of some extravagant dream, he made little effort

to arouse himself. A figure stood beside the couch; a lamp lifted above

his head. A friar's cowl concealed his features; his person too was

enveloped in a coarse garment, with a huge rosary at his girdle.

"Mortal, awake and listen," said the unknown visitor, "Art weary of

life, or does this present world content thee?"

"Who art thou?" said De Vessey, scarcely raising himself from the

pallet.

"I am thy friend, thy deliverer an' thou wilt."

"Thanks!" said the knight, springing from his recumbent posture.

"Stay!" replied the intruder, "there be conditions ere thou pass hence.

Miserable offspring of Adam, ye still cling to your prison and your

clay. Wherefore shrink from the separation, afraid to shake off your

bonds, your loathsome carcase, and spring forth at once to life? Art

thou prepared to fulfil one--but one condition for thy release?"

"Name it! Manifest my innocence; and if it be gold, thou shalt have thy

desire. No hired advocate ere yet held such a fee!"

"Keep thy gold for baser uses; it buyeth not my benefits. But remember,

thy life is not worth a week's purchase, neither is thy mistress'

forsooth, shouldest thou be witless enough to refuse. An ignominious

death, a base exit for thyself,--for her, madness and a speedy grave.

One fate awaits ye both. Life and health, if thou consent are yours."

"Thou speakest riddles. It were vain trying to comprehend their import.

Name thy conditions. Aught, that honour may purchase, will I give."

The stranger threw back his cowl, displaying the features of the

renowned Doctor Hermann Sichel: a gleam of lurid intelligence lighted

his grim grey eyes, that might betoken either insanity or excitement.

Without reflecting for one moment on the hazard and imprudence of his

conduct, De Vessey immediately rushed forward, grappled with his

adversary, and threw him.

"Now will I have deadly vengeance, fiend! Take that!" said he, drawing

forth a concealed poignard, and thrusting with all his might. Scorn

puckered the features of the pretended monk. The weapon's point was

driven back, refusing to enter, as though his enemy held a charmed

existence.

"Put back thy weapon; thou wilt have need of it elsewhere, silly one."

De Vessey was confounded at this unlooked-for result. His foe seemed

invulnerable, and he slunk back.

"I forgive thee, poor fool! Put it back, I say. There--there--now to

work--time hastens, and there is little space for parley."

"What is thy will?"

"Thy welfare, thy life; listen. Yonder unhappy wretch I have loaden with

benefits, rescued from poverty, disgrace, lifted him to the pinnacle of

his ambition, the highest rank in art. Base ingrate, he threatened to

betray, to denounce, and I crushed the reptile. He is now what thou

shalt be shortly, unless my power be put forth for thy rescue. Not all

the united efforts of man can deliver thee. Beyond earthly aid, thou

diest the death of a dog!"

"Why dost thou accuse me of a crime, knowing that I am innocent?"

"To drive thee, helpless, into my power. Think not to escape save on one

condition."

"Name it," said De Vessey.

"Self-preservation is the great, the paramount law of our nature; the

most powerful impulse implanted in our being. All, all obey this

impulse; and who can control or forbid its operation? Will not the most

timid, the most scrupulous, if no alternative be afforded, slay the

adversary who seeks his life; and does not the law both of earth and

heaven hold him guiltless? Thou art now denounced. Innocent, thy life

must be sacrificed. Thou diest, or another; there is no choice."

"But shall _I_ murder the innocent."

"And suppose it be. What thinkest thou? Two persons, equally guiltless,

one of them must die. Self-preservation will prompt instinctively to

action. Does not the drowning man cling to his companion; nay, rescue

himself at the expense of another's life?"

De Vessey felt bewildered, if not convinced. Need we wonder if he

yielded. Life or death. Honour, disgrace. His mistress restored; his

innocence proved. Life, with him, had scarcely been tasted. A glorious

career awaited him; his lady-love smiling through the bright vista of

the future; and----the tempter prevailed!

But who must be the victim? The appalling truth was not then disclosed.

De Vessey promised to obey.

"But remember, no power, not even flight, can screen thee from my

vengeance shouldst break thy vow. Take warning by the painter; the poor

fool but hesitated, and his doom was swift as it was sure. Take this

cowl and friar's garment; I was admitted by the jailor for thy shrift.

The lamp will guide thee. Be bold, and fear not. I will remain;

to-morrow they will find out their mistake, but I have other means of

escape."

"And Leonora. How shall she be recovered?"

"That is a work of peril, and will need thine utmost vigilance.

Rememberest thou the skeleton?"

"In the ebony cabinet?" inquired the cavalier, with a cold shudder.

"He hath her portrait, and will not lightly be persuaded to give his

prey. _Every month I am bound to furnish him a bride!_ My own life pays

the forfeit of omission. Leonora is the next victim, unless thou

prevail, betrothed to that grisly type of death!"

"Oh, horrible! Mine the bride of a loathsome skeleton! Of an atomy! A

fiend! Monster, I will denounce thee. I care not for my own life. Of

what worth if torn from hers. Wretch, give back my bride or----"

"Spare these transports. I am now thine only friend. Thou art now cut

off from thy kin, shunned by mankind. To whom then wilt thou turn for

help? Mine thou art, for ever!"

De Vessey gasped for utterance.

"Nevertheless," continued his tormentor, "I will direct and help thee in

this matter also. But 'tis a fearful venture. Hast thou courage?"

"If to rescue her, aught that human arm can achieve shall be done."

"He holds the portrait, I tell thee, with a steady gripe. Those skeleton

fingers will be hard to unloose."

"I will break them, or perish. This good----"

"Touch them not for thy life. Death, sure but lingering, awaits

whomsoever they fasten upon. Take this key. It will admit thee to the

apartment. To-night the deed must be accomplished, or to-morrow the

maiden is beyond succour."

"And how is this charmed picture to be wrested from him?"

"An ebony wand lies at his feet; he will obey its touch. But whatsoever

thou seest, be nothing daunted, nor let any silly terror scare thee from

thy purpose. Now to thy task. But keep these marvels to thyself. If thou

whisper, ay to the winds, our compact, thou art not safe."

Soon De Vessey, enveloped in his disguise, found egress without

difficulty. Once outside the prison, he hurried on scarcely giving

himself time for reflection.

The night was dark and stormy. Torches, distributed about the streets,

rocked and swung to and fro in their sockets, the flames, with a strange

and flickering glare, giving an unnatural distorted appearance to

objects within reach; and, to some solitary individual, at this late

hour hurrying alone, the grim aspect of a demon or a spectre to the

disturbed imagination of the lover. His courage, at times on the point

of deserting him, revived, when he remembered that another's life,

dearer than his own, depended on his exertions. The streets, almost

deserted, swam with continually accumulating torrents: but he felt not

that terrible tempest; the turmoil, the conflict within, was louder than

the roar and tumult of outward elements.

Almost ere he was aware, he found himself opposite the entrance of the

painter's habitation; a shudder, like a death-chill, shot through his

frame. He applied his key. A distant gleam, a dim lurid light, seemed to

quiver before him. He heard the quick jar, the withdrawing bolt, that

gave him admittance, as though it were a spectral voice warning him to

desist.

The unknown dangers he anticipated, rendered more terrific by their

vague indefinite character, were enough to appal a stouter bosom. De

Vessey would have faced and defied earthly perils, but these were almost

beyond his fortitude to endure. Love, however, gave excitement, if not

courage, and he resolved either to succeed or perish in the attempt. The

stairs were partially illumined by an uncertain glimmer from a narrow

window into the street. He felt his way, and every step sent the

life-blood curdling to his heart. He reached the topmost stair; laid one

hand on the latch. He listened; all was still, save the hollow gusts

that rumbled round the dwelling.

With a feeling somewhat akin to desperation, he entered. A lamp yet

burning emitted a feeble glare, but was well-nigh spent, giving a more

dismal aspect to this lonely chamber. It was apparently unoccupied. The

chair, the black funeral pall left by the officers of justice over the

pallet, the mysterious cabinet, the desk where the painter usually sat,

all remained undisturbed. De Vessey's attention was more particularly

directed towards the cabinet; there alone, according to his

instructions, were the means of deliverance. A cold, clammy

perspiration, a freezing shiver, came upon him as he approached. He laid

one hand on the latch; it resisted as before. He tried force, a loud

groan was heard in the chamber. Every fibre of his frame seemed to grow

rigid; every limb stiffened with horror, and he drew back.

This was a sorry beginning to the adventure, and he inwardly repented of

his rashness. Looking round in extreme agony, his eyes rested on the

black pall. Could it be! or was it from the expiring glimmer of the

lamp? The drapery appeared to move. Another, and a deeper groan! De

Vessey for a space was unable to move; but his courage came apace,

inasmuch as it was some relief, and a diversion from the awful mysteries

of that grim cabinet. He approached the pallet hastily, throwing off the

heavy coverlet. The recumbent body was yet beneath, but convulsed, as

though struggling to free itself from an oppressive burden. De Vessey

watched, while his blood froze with terror. Gradually these convulsive

movements extended to the features. The lips quivered, as though

essaying to speak; the eye-balls rolling rapidly under their lids. A

slight flush dawned upon the cheek; the hands were tightly closed, and

another groan preceded one desperate attempt to throw off the load which

prevented returning animation. At length the eyes opened with a ghastly

stare; but evidently conveying no outward impression to the inward

sense. With a loud shriek the body started up: then, uttering a wild and

piercing cry, rolled on the floor, foaming, and struggling for life as

though with some powerful adversary.

"Save me! Save me!" was uttered in a tone so harrowing and dreadful,

more than mortal agony, that De Vessey would have fled, but his limbs

refused their office.

"He strangles me! Fiend--have--have mercy! Wilt thou not? Oh mercy,

mercy Heaven!" His senses, though evidently bewildered, resumed their

functions. With a glare of intense anguish he appeared as though

supplicating help and deliverance.

"Who art thou?" was the first inquiry and symptom of returning reason.

"I know thee, De Vessey. But why art thou here? Another victim. Yes, to

torture me. Where am I? In my own chamber! Oh--that horrid cabinet!

Yet--yet these cruel torments. Will they never end?"

De Vessey immediately perceived there was no delusion; the mortal form

of the artist was really before him. Terrible though it were, yet it was

a relief to have companionship with his kind, a being of flesh and blood

beside him. He might now, peradventure, accomplish his task. Providence,

may be, had opened a way for his deliverance, and hope once more dawned

on his spirit. He helped the miserable artist to regain his couch, and

sought to soothe him, beseeching the helpless victim not to give way to

frenzy, doubtless resulting from his strange and emaciated condition. A

miracle or a spell had been wrought for his resuscitation; but the

events of the last few hours were alike enigmas, beyond the common

operations of nature to explain.

"Yesterday I attempted suicide," said the artist, "taking poison to

escape a life insupportable to me. Fain would I have broken the chain

which binds me to this miserable existence. But yon tyrant hath given me

a charmed life. I cannot even die!"

"Thy body was dragged from the Seine."

"How?" inquired the artist with an incredulous look.

"And exposed this morning in the Morgue," continued De Vessey.

"When will my sufferings cease? How have I prayed for deliverance from

this infernal thraldom."

"Yon deceiver hath doubtless thrown thee into the river, and supposing

thou wert dead, he designs me to supply thy place; to carry on the dark

mystery of iniquity, a glimpse of which hath already been revealed."

"Would that I had been left to perish,--that my doom were ended.

Avarice, ambition! how enslaved are your victims. How have I longed for

my miserable cottage, my poverty, my obscurity,--cold and pinching want,

but a quiet conscience to season my scanty meal. I bartered all for

gold, for fame and--misery! A cruel bondage! compared to which I could

envy the meanest thing that crawls on this abject earth. In my trance, I

dreamed of green fields and babbling streams; of my brethren, my

play-mates, my days of innocence and sport, when all was freshness and

anticipation,--life one bright vista beyond, opening to sunny regions of

rapture and delight. And now, what am I?--a wretch, degraded,

undone,--a spectacle of misery, beyond what human thought can conceive.

Doomed to years, ages it may be, of woe,--to scenes of horror such as

tongue ne'er told, and even imagination might scarce endure, and my

miseries but a foretaste of that hereafter!"

Here the guilty victim writhed in a paroxysm of agony; his veins swollen

almost to bursting. Whether real or imaginary, whether a victim to

insanity, or of some supernatural agent, its influence was not the less

terrible in its effects. Starting suddenly from his grovelling posture,

he cried, fixing his eyes on De Vessey with a searching glance,--

"What brings thee hither?"

"Leonora is in jeopardy by your spells. I seek her deliverance."

"She is beyond rescue. Leonora da Rimini is THE SKELETON'S BRIDE!"

Here the painter threw such a repulsive glance towards the cabinet, that

the cavalier shrank back as though expecting some grisly spectre from

its portals; yet, himself the subject of an extraordinary fascination,

he could not withdraw his gaze.

"Fly, fly, or thou art lost! My tormentor will be here anon,--I would

have saved her, and he fixed his burning gripe here, I feel it still;

not a night passes that he comes not hither. Away! shouldest thou meet

him, thy doom is fixed, and for ever. I would not that another fell into

his toils. Couldest thou know, ay, but as a whisper, the secrets of this

prison-house, thy spirit would melt, thy flesh would shrink as though

the hot wind of the desert had passed over. What I have endured, and

what I must endure, are alike unutterable."

"Thy keeper comes not to-night. He hath sent me to this chamber of death

instead. He knows not thou art alive."

"Thee!--To--But I must not reveal; my tongue cleaves to my mouth. Nay,

nay, it cannot be; none but a fiend could do his behest. Away! for thy

life, away!"

De Vessey related the events of the last few hours. The artist ruminated

awhile; then abruptly exclaimed--

"He hath some diabolical design thereupon which I am not yet able to

fathom. That it is for thine undoing Sir Knight, for thy misery here and

hereafter, doubt not. Thou hast promised, but not yet offered him a

victim. Thus far thou art safe; but he will pursue thee, and think not

to escape his vengeance. How to proceed is beyond my counsel. Should

midnight come, thou wouldest see horrors in this chamber that might

quail the stoutest heart. Thou art bereft of life or reason if thou

tarry."

"I leave not without an attempt, even should I fail, to wrench her, who

is dearer to me than either, from that demon's grasp. I will not hence

alone."

"Alas! I fear there is little hope; yet shall he not escape yonder

prison before to-morrow. Even his arts cannot convey him through its

walls; the magician's body, if such he be, is subject to like

impediments with our own. This night, for good or ill, is thine."

"To work, then, to work," said De Vessey, as though inspired with new

energy, "to the rescue, and by this good cross," kissing the handle of

his sword, "I defy ye!"

By main force he attempted, and, in the end, tore open the door of the

cabinet. The grinning skeleton was before him, the miniature in its

grasp. A moment's pause. The cavalier carefully surveyed his prize.

Suspended by an iron chain, the links entwined round its bony arm,

rendered the picture difficult, if not impossible, to detach without

touching the limbs. Gathering fresh courage from the countenance and

smile of his beloved, he snatched the portrait, but the wearer was too

tenacious of the charmed treasure, and resisted his utmost efforts. He

thought a savage, a malicious grin crept upon his features. A smile

more than usually hideous mocked him. From those hollow sockets, too, or

his imagination played strange antics, a faint glare shot forth. A dizzy

terror crept over him. His brain reeled. His energies were becoming

prostrate; and unless one desperate attempt could be made, all hope of

rescue were past. He sought the ebony wand, but, forgetful or

incautious, laid hold of the chain which encircled the skeleton's wrist.

A bell answered to the pressure,--a deep hollow reverberation, like a

death-knell in his ear.

"Hark! that iron tongue,--lost--lost! Oh! mercy, mercy!" shrieked the

death-painter, covering his eyes.

At this moment, De Vessey heard a noise like the jarring of bolts and

hinges. Ere he was aware, the skeleton's arms were fastened round him;

the doors closed, the floor gave way under his feet. He felt the

pressure relaxing; he fell, the hissing wind rushed in his ears. Stunned

with his fall, he lay for a while in the dark, scarcely able to move. It

was not long ere he was able to grope about. Rotting carcases and bones

met his touch--a noisome charnel-house gorged with human bodies in all

the various stages of decay. His heart sickened with a fearful

apprehension that he was left to perish by a lingering death, like those

around him. Despair for the first time benumbed his faculties. His

courage gave way at the dreadful anticipation, and he grasped the very

carcase on which he trod for succour.

Suddenly, a loud yell burst above him. A blaze of burning timbers

flashed forth,--crackling, they hissed, and fell into the vault. Through

an opening overhead, he saw the skeleton seized by devouring flames.

They twined, they clung round it. Their forky tongues licked the bones

that appeared to writhe and crawl in living agony.

Soon the chain, which held the portrait, gave way, and it dropped at his

feet unhurt. A shriek issued from the flaming cabinet, and he saw the

painter with a burning torch above. A maniac joy lighted up his

features: he shouted to De Vessey, and with frantic gestures beckoned

that he should escape.

"If thou canst climb yonder stair," he cried, "before the flames cut off

thy retreat, thou art safe. See, Leonora is already free. Haste--this

way--there,--there, now leap--mind thy footing, 'tis too frail, creep

round, those rafters are unbroken; another spring, and thou mayest reach

them in safety."

The flames were close upon him. He was nigh suffocated. A perilous

attempt,--but, at length, he gained the upper floor, and his deliverer

exclaimed,--

"Thanks, thanks, he is safe! by this good hand, too, that wrought your

misery. Oh! that a life of penitence and prayer might atone for my

guilt. It was a thought inspired by Heaven, prompted me to set on fire

that insatiate demon, to whom my task-master offered those wretched

victims, and every month a bride, on pain of his own destruction. What

might be the nature of that skeleton form, or their compact, thou canst

neither know nor understand. Even I, though nightly witnessing horrors

which have given to youth the aspect and decrepitude of age, cannot

explain. A connexion, if not inseparable, yet intimate as body and soul,

existed between those demon-haunted bones, and yon monster who sought,

and accomplished my ruin. What I have seen must not, cannot be told. My

lips are for ever sealed. But the flames are fast gaining on us. Let us

hasten, ere they prevent our retreat. The whole fabric will shortly be

enveloped, and every record of this diabolical confederacy consumed. Go

to thy lady-love. She is recovered, and, as one newly awakened from some

terrific dream. With the earliest dawn hie thee to the prison lest _he_

escape. Let him be instantly secured. When summoned I will not fail, to

confront, to denounce the wretch. He cannot penetrate yonder walls, save

by fraud or strategem. How I have escaped death is one of the mysteries

which time perchance may never develope. One might fancy the cunning

leech who supplied the drug did play me false. Instead of poison mayhap,

one of those potions of which we have heard, that so benumb and stupify

the faculties, that for a space they mimic death--nor can any thing

rouse or recover from its influence until the appointed time be past."

They hurried away as he spoke. De Vessey could scarcely wait until

daylight. His first care was to secure the old sorcerer. He sought aid

from the police, and, as far as might be, revealed the dreadful secret.

An immediate visit was made to the cell. On entering, its inmate was in

bed,--a scorched, a blackened corpse!

It may be supposed, the lover was not long in attending on his mistress.

She was free from disorder, and happily unconscious of what had passed

during the interval, save that an ugly dream had troubled her. Nor was

she aware that more than one night had elapsed. In a few days

afterwards, De Vessey led her to the altar.

The mystery was never fully penetrated. That imposture, and partial

insanity, might be involved, and have the greatest share in its

development, is beyond doubt; but they cannot explain the whole of these

diabolical proceedings. That the powers of darkness may have power over

the bodies of wicked and abandoned men, cannot be denied.

Whether this narration discloses another instance of such mysterious

agency, our readers must determine.

What the painter knew, was buried in eternal silence. The monks of La

Trappe received a brother whose vows were never broken!

THE CRYSTAL GOBLET:

A TALE OF THE EMPEROR SEVERUS.

It was midnight,--yet a light was burning in a small chamber situated in

one of the narrowest and least frequented streets of Eboracum,--then the

metropolis of the world. York at that period being the residence of the

Emperor Severus, his court and family were conveyed hither; and the

government of the world transferred to an obscure island in the west:

once the _ultima Thule_ of civilization, its native inhabitants hardly

yet emerged from a state of barbarism, and addicted to the most gross

and revolting superstitions.

A lamp of coarse earthenware was fastened on a bronze stand, having

several beaks, and of a boat-like shape. Near it stood the oil-vase for

replenishing, almost empty,--while the wicks, charred and heavy with

exuviae, looked as though for sometime untrimmed. On the same table was a

Greek and a Coptick manuscript, an inkhorn, and the half of a silver

penny, the Roman _symbolum_. Breaking a piece of money as a keepsake,

between two friends, was, even at that period, a very ancient custom. A

brass rhombus, used by magicians, lay on a _cathedra_, or easy chair,

which stood as though suddenly pushed aside by its occupier in rising

hastily from his studies. An iron chest was near, partly open, wherein

papers and parchments lay tumbled about in apparent disorder. Vellum, so

white and firm, as to curl even with the warmth of the hand; purple

skins emblazoned in gold and silver, and many others, of rare

workmanship, were scattered about with unsparing profusion. It was

evidently the study, the _librarium_ of some distinguished person, and

consisted of an inner chamber beyond the court, having one window near

the roof, and another opening into a small garden behind. From the

ceiling there hung a dried ape, a lizard, and several uncouth,

unintelligible reptiles, put together in shapes that nature's most

fantastic forms never displayed. Vases of ointments, and unguents of

strange odours, stood in rows, upon a marble slab on one side of the

apartment. _Scrinia_, or caskets for the admission of rolls, and writing

materials were deposited on shelves, forming a library of reference to

the individual whose _sanctum_ we are now describing: It was,

apparently, undisturbed by any living occupant, save a huge raven, now

roosting on a wooden perch, his head buried under a glossy tissue of

feathers, and, to all appearance, immovable as the grinning and hideous

things that surrounded him. A magpie, confined in a cage above the door,

was taught to salute those who entered, with the word "[Greek: chaire],"

a Grecian custom, greatly in vogue amongst the most opulent of the

Romans.

Ere long, there came a footstep,--and a gentle summons at the door. The

bird gave the usual response; and straightway entered a stout muscular

figure, wrapped in a _chlamys_, fastened on the shoulder with a

richly-embossed _fibula_. Beneath, was the usual light leathern cuirass,

covered with scales of shining metal; the centre, over the abdomen,

ornamented with a gorgon's head, and other warlike devices; a short

sword, being stuck in his girdle. From the lowest part hung leathern

straps, or _lambrequins_ highly wrought and embellished. He wore

breeches or drawers, reaching to the knees, and his feet and the lower

part of the leg were covered with the _cothurnus_, a sort of traveller's

half-boot. A sumptuous mantle, made of leopard skin, was thrown

carelessly about his head, hardly concealing his features; for the folds

relaxing in some measure as he entered, showed a youthful countenance;

yet dark and ferocious, indicating a character of daring and vindictive

energy; and a disposition where forgiveness or remorse rarely tempered

the fiercer passions. As he looked round, the raven raised his head on a

sudden, and peering at him with that curious and familiar eye, so

characteristic of the tribe, gave a loud and hollow croak, which again

arrested the notice of the intruder.

"Most auspicious welcome truly, ill omened bird. Is thy master visible?"

There was no reply; and the inquirer, after a cautious glance round the

chamber, sat down, evidently disconcerted by this unexpected reception.

Scarcely seated, he felt the clasp on his shoulder suddenly risen, as

though by an intruder from behind. Looking round, he saw the raven with

the bauble in his beak, hopping off with great alacrity to his perch.

The magpie set up a loud scream as though vexed he was not a

participator in the spoil. The owner, angry at his loss, pursued the

thief, who defied every attempt to regain it; getting far above his

reach; ever and anon the same ominous croak sounding dismally through

the gloom by which he was concealed. Finding it fruitless, the stranger

gave up the pursuit, and again sat down, examining carelessly the papers

which lay open for perusal. But it might seem these feathered guardians

were entrusted with the care of their master's chamber during his

absence.

"Beware!" said the same querulous voice, that before accosted him.

Looking up, he saw the magpie, his neck stretched to the utmost through

the bars of his cage, and in the act of repeating the injunction.

"'Tis an ill augur to my suit," he muttered hastily. "Destiny!" Starting

up at the word, which he spake aloud, he clenched his hand.

"The inexorable gods may decree, but would it not be worthy of my

purpose to brave them; to render even fate itself subservient to me!"

He hurried to and fro across the chamber with an agitated step. Suddenly

he stood still, in the attitude of listening. He drew the folds of his

mantle closer about his head, when by another entrance, there approached

a tall majestic figure, clad in dark vestments, who without speaking,

came near and stood before him. A veil of rich net-work fell gracefully

below his mantle, being in that era, the distinctive garb of soothsayers

and diviners. His hair, for he was an Asiatic, was twisted in the shape

of a mitre, investing his form with every advantage from outward

appearances.

"I would know," said he, "by what right thou art at this untimely hour,

an intruder on my privacy?"

"By a will, which even thou darest not disobey," was the answer.

"It is past midnight. Knowest thou of my long watching, and the dark

portents of the stars?"

"Nay! But passing, I saw the door of the vestibule partly open. The

fates were propitious. I crossed the court, intending to consult the

most famous soothsayer in the emperor's dominions."

"Peradventure 'tis no accidental meeting. To-night I have read the

stars, the book of heaven. Comest thou not, blind mortal at their

bidding?"

"I have neither skill nor knowledge in the art----,"

The stranger hesitated, as though he had as lief the conversation was

resumed by the diviner himself.

"Thy father. What of him?" said the Chaldean, with a look, as though he

had penetrated his inmost thoughts.

"True, 'tis mine errand," said the intruder. "But the event?"

"The augury is not complete!"

"Thine auguries are like my good fortune,--long in compassing. The best

augur I trow, is this good steel. I would sooner trust it than the best

thou canst bestow."

"Rash mortal. Impatience will be thy destruction.--Listen!"

The raven hopped down upon his shoulder. A low guttural sound appeared

to come from this ill-omened bird. The augur bent his ear. Sounds shaped

themselves into something like articulation, and the following couplet

was distinctly heard:--

"While the eagle is in his nest, the eaglet shall not prevail,

Nor shall the eagle be smitten in his eyrie."

"Azor," said the warrior, clenching his sword, "these three times hast

thou mocked me, and by the immortal gods thou diest!"

"Impious one! I could strike thee powerless as the dust thou treadest

on. Give me the bauble," said he, addressing the raven. The bird

immediately gave the clasp he had purloined into his master's hand.

"This shall witness between us," continued he. "Dare to lift thy hand,

the very palace shall bear testimony to thy treason--that thou hast

sought me for purposes too horrible even for thy tongue to utter. Hence.

When least expected I may meet thee. If it had not been for thy mother's

sake, and for my vow, the emperor ere this had been privy to it."

Stung with rage and disappointment, he put back his weapon, and with

threats and imprecations departed.

On a couch inlaid with ivory and pearl, within a vaulted chamber in the

Praetorian Palace of the royal city, lay the emperor, in a coverlid of

rich stuff. Disease had crushed his body, but the indomitable spirit was

unquenched. Tossing and disturbed, at length he started from his bed.

Calling to his chamberlain, he demanded if there had not been footsteps

in the apartment. The ruler of the world, whose nod could shake the

nations, and whose word was the arbiter of life or death to millions of

his fellow-men, lay here--startled at the passing of a sound, the

falling of a shadow! His face, whose chief characteristic was

power,--that strength and determination of spirit which all

acknowledge, and but few comprehend--was furrowed with deeper marks than

care had wrought. Sixty years had moulded the steady and inflexible

purpose of his soul in lines too palpable to be misunderstood. His beard

was short and grizzled; and a swarthy hue, betraying his African birth,

was now become sallow, and even sickly in the extreme; but an eagle eye

still beamed in all its fierceness and rapacity from under his scanty

brows. His nose was not of the Roman sort, like the beak of that royal

bird, but thick and even clumsy, lacking that sharp and predacious

intellect generally associated with forms of this description.

Such was Septimus Severus, then styled on a coin just struck,

"BRITANNICVS MAXIMVS," in commemoration of a great victory gained over

the Caledonians, whom he had driven beyond Adrian's wall. Though

suffering from severe illness, he was carried in a horse-litter; and,

marching from York at the head of his troops, penetrated almost to the

extremity of the island, where he subdued that fierce and intractable

nation the Scots. Returning, he left his son Caracalla to superintend

the building of a stone wall across the island, in place of the earthen

ramparts called Adrian's;--a structure, when completed, that effectually

resisted the inroads of those barbarians for a considerable period.

He called a third time to Virius Lupus, one, the most confidential of

his attendants, to whom many of the most important secrets of the state

were entrusted.

"Thrice have I heard it Virius. Again, and again, it seems to mock and

elude my grasp." He paused: the officer yet listening with becoming

reverence. The Emperor continued, more like one whose thoughts had taken

utterance, than as if he were addressing the individual before him.

"When I led the Pannonian legions to victory; when Rome opened her

gates at my command; when I fought my way through blood to the

throne,--I quailed not then! Now,--satiated with power, careless of

fame, the prospects of life closed, and for ever,--when all that is left

for me to do is to die,--behold, I tremble at the shaking of a leaf! I

start, even at the footstep that awakes me!"

"Long live the Emperor!" said the cringing secretary. Interrupting him,

as he would have proceeded with the customary adulations, the emperor

again continued as though hardly noticing his presence.

"Caracalla yet remains with the army. Once I censured the misguided

clemency of Marcus, who, by an act of justice might have prevented the

miseries that his son Caligula brought upon the empire; and yet I, even

I," said the haughty monarch, bitterly, "nourish the very weakness that

in others I despise!"

He dashed away the sweat from his brow, ashamed of the weakness he could

not quell.

"He hath sought your life," said the wily sycophant.

"He hath!--Traitor! parricide! the distinctions he would have earned.

But my better genius triumphed, and history hath been spared this

infamy. It may be, this temporary exile from our court, with the

northern army, shall tame his spirit to submission. My life or his, once

the bitter alternative, may yet be avoided."

"But may not his presence with the army be impolitic, should he turn the

weapon wherewith you have girded him to your own hurt?"

"'Tis an evil choice; whichever way I turn, mischief is before me."

"Were it not best that he be recalled?"

"What! to plot and practise against my life? To mount upon my reeking

body to the throne! He will not reign with Geta. The proud boy disdains

a divided empire.--And was not mine own soul fashioned in the same

mould? When Niger would have ruled in Syria, and Albinus in Britain, I

scattered their legions to the winds, and levelled their hopes with

their pride. 'Tis nature: and shall I, the author of his being, punish

him for mine own gift?"

He raised himself on his couch. The fierce blaze of ambition broke the

dark cloud of bodily infirmities, and the monarch and the tyrant again

dilated his almost savage features.

The secretary, used to these fiery moods, stood awaiting his commands.

The emperor, as though exhausted, sunk down on his pillow, exclaiming,--

"I have governed the world, but I cannot govern a wayward heart!"

Thus did he often lament, and provoke himself the more with these vain

regrets; forgetting that, if he had exercised the same firmness in his

private as public capacity, the government of his own house would have

been easy as the government of the world.

"Virius Lupus there is danger,--and to-night. As I have told thee, the

stars do betoken mischief. But the peril is at my threshold. Let

Caracalla remain; so shall we avert his weapon. Should the assassin

come, it will not be with the blow of a parricide. Thou mayst retire to

thy couch, but, first, let the guards be doubled, the watchword and

countersign changed. And, hark thee, tell the tribune that he look well

to the _tessera_, and have the right count from the inspectors. Should

despatches come from Rome, let the messenger have immediate audience."

Again the emperor stretched himself on the couch, and again his slumbers

were interrupted. A murmur was heard along the halls and passages where

the guards were stationed. The noise grew louder, approaching the very

door of the royal chamber. The monarch started, as from a dream, and the

door at that moment opened. The Chaldaean soothsayer stood before him.

"Azor!" said the Emperor, "at this hour? What betides such unseemly

greeting?"

"Caesar trembles on his throne; but the world quakes not! The angel of

death is at thy door. Caracalla hath returned."

"Returned? Surely thy wits are disturbed. Caracalla! Aye, even

yesterday, we had despatches from the camp."

"Howbeit, he is at thy threshold. The sound of his feet is behind me."

"Impossible! the mischief is not from him."

"Even now I looked in the crystal, and behold----" The soothsayer

paused. Horror was gathering on his features. The light suspended above

him began to quiver; and, as it waved to and fro, his countenance

assumed a tremulous and distorted expression.

Severus watched the result with no little anxiety. The magician drew a

crystal cup from his girdle. Looking in, apparently with great alarm, he

presented it at arm's length to the emperor, who beheld a milky cloud

slowly undulating within the vessel.

"Take this," said the soothsayer, "and tell me what thou seest."

The monarch took it at his bidding. The cloud seemed to be clearing

away, as the morning mist before the sun.

"I see nothing," said the emperor, "but a silver clasp at the bottom."

"And the owner?"

"As I live," said the astonished parent, drawing forth a curiously

embossed clasp from the goblet, and holding it out to the light, "this

token of rare workmanship did the Empress present to Caracalla, ere he

departed. Whence came it? and wherefore hast thou brought it hither?"

"A silent witness to my word. Within the hour thy son returns; and----"

The seer's voice grew more ominous whilst he spake. "Beware! there's

mischief in the wind. The raven scents his prey afar off!"

"If in this thou art a true prophet, I will give thee largess; but if a

lying spirit of divination possess thee, my power is swift to punish as

to reward."

"I heed not either. Do I serve thee for lucre? Look thee, in less time

than I would occupy in telling thee on't I could fill thy palace with

gold and silver! and do I covet thy paltry treasures? The kingdoms of

this world are his whom I serve, and shall I seek thy perishing honours?

Behold, I leave this precious goblet as my pledge. I must away. Thou

shall render it back on my return. I would not part with that treasure

for the dominion of the Caesars. Beware thou let it not forth from thy

sight, for there be genii who are bound to serve its possessor, and,

peradventure it shall give thee warning when evil approaches."

The soothsayer departed, and the emperor laid the crystal goblet on a

table opposite his couch. He clapped his hands, and the chief secretary

approached.

"What said our messenger from the north? Read again the despatch they

brought yesterday."

The secretary drew forth a roll from his cabinet, and read as follows:--

"Again the supreme gods have granted victory to our legions. Favoured by

the darkness and their boats, the barbarians attacked us from three

separate points. Led on by Fingal and his warriors, whom beforetime we

erroneously reported to be slain, they crossed over to the station where

we had pitched our tents. But the Roman eagle was yet watchful. Though

retreating behind our last defences, we left not the field until a

thousand, the choicest of our foes, bit the dust. Morning showed us the

red-haired chief and his bards, but they were departing, and their

spears were glittering on the mountains."

"Enough!" said the emperor. "Caracalla tarries yet with the camp. Our

person is not menaced by his hand. Prithee send a brasier hither. The

night is far spent, and slumber will not again visit these eyelids."

A bronze tripod was brought, supported by sphinxes, the worship of Isis

being a fashionable idolatry at that period. Charred wood was then

placed in a round dish, pierced with holes, and perfumes thrown in to

correct the smell. The emperor commanded that he should be left alone.

Covering his shoulders with a richly-embroidered mantle, he took from

behind his pillow a Greek treatise on the occult sciences, to the study

of which he was passionately addicted.

It is said of him, by historians, that he was guided by his skill in

judicial astrology to the choice of the reigning empress, having lost

his first wife when governor of the Lyonnese Gaul. Finding that a lady

of Emesa, in Syria, one Julia Domna, had what was termed "a royal

nativity," he solicited and obtained her hand, thus making the prophecy

the means of its accomplishment.

A woman of great beauty, and strong natural acquirements, she was, at

the same time, the patron of all that was noble and distinguished in the

philosophy and literature of the age. It was even said that, secretly,

she was a favourer of the Christians. Be this as it may, we do not find

she ever became a professor of the faith.

Sleep, that capricious guest, which comes unbidden, but not invited, was

just stealing over the monarch's eyelids, when the roll fell from his

grasp. The unexpected movement startled him. His eye fell on the bright

crystal opposite. He thought a glimmer was moving in the glass. He

remembered the words of the sage, and his eye was riveted on the mystic

goblet. A sudden flash was reflected from it. He started forward, when a

naked sword fell on the couch! the stroke he only escaped by having so

accidentally changed his place. The glass had revealed the glitter of

the blade behind him, and he was indebted to a few inches of space for

his life!

Looking round, he beheld a masked figure preparing to repeat the stroke.

Severus, with his usual courage and presence of mind, threw his mantle

across the assassin's sword. He cried out, and the chamber was

immediately filled with guards; but, whether from treachery or

inadvertence, the traitor was no where to be found. He had escaped,

leaving his weapon entangled in the folds of the mantle. On examination,

the emperor's surprise was visibly increased, when he recognised the

sword as one belonging to Caracalla! The soothsayer's prediction was

apparently fulfilled. To the emperor's superstitious apprehensions the

crystal goblet was charged with his safety. But, lo! on being sought

for, the charmed cup was gone!

* * * * *

The next morning, as the sun was just rising over the green wolds, and

the fresh air came brisk and sharply on the traveller's cheek, a

stranger was noticed loitering through the narrow streets of the

imperial city. He had passed the great Calcarian or western gate, from

which the statue of the reigning emperor, on that memorable morning, was

found razed from its pedestal. The outer and inner faces of the gate

were whitened for the writing of edicts and proclamations by the

government scribes, and likewise for the public notices of minor import,

these being daubed on the walls with various degrees of skill, in red or

black pigments, according to the nature of the decrees that were issued

by the Praetor and the caprice of the artist.

On that morning a number of idlers had assembled about the gate. The

statue of the emperor, fallen prostrate, had been removed, and an edict

promptly supplied, to the purport that an impious hand, having attempted

the life of the monarch, a reward of one hundred thousand _sestertia_

would be the price of his apprehension. Another reward of the like sum

was offered for the discovery of a crystal goblet, stolen from the

emperor's chamber.

The individual we have just noticed wore the common sleeved tunic of

coarse wool; over it was a cloak buckled on the right shoulder, the yarn

being died in such wise that, when woven, it might resemble the skin of

a brindled ox--such was the dress of the ancient Britons. His head was

covered with a close cap, but his feet were naked; and the only weapon

he bore was a two-handed sword, stuck in his girdle.

Ere he passed the gate, it might be supposed that his business and

credentials would have been rigidly scrutinised by the guards; but he

merely showed a large signet ring to the superior officer, and was

immediately allowed to pass. He soon came to the wooden bridge over the

river, now kept by a body of the Praetorian guards. Here, on attempting

to pass, he was immediately seized. With an air of stupid or affected

concern, the prisoner drew the same signet from his hand, the sight of

which again procured him immediate access. The bridge was crossed, and,

after passing along the narrow, winding streets, he came to a small

triumphal arch leading into the Forum. This was an area of but mean

extent, surrounded by a colonnade, serving as a market for all sorts of

wares, and the trades carried on under its several porticoes. The outer

walls, behind the columns, were painted in compartments, black and red,

and here a number of citizens were assembled. There was hurrying to and

fro. Soldiers and messengers, even so early, were bustling about with

ominous activity. The stranger looked on for awhile, with a vacant sort

of curiosity, then, turning to the left hand, went forward towards the

gate of the palace. On a corner of the building he saw another edict to

the same purport as before. Near it was the announcement of a spectacle

at the theatre: the gift of a wealthy patrician for the amusement and

gratification of the people. Still the stranger passed on, apparently

uninterested by all, until he came to the outer gate, where he merely

paused a few moments, as though to observe the movements of the soldiers

and the changing of the guard. The sound of the trumpet seemed to

attract especial notice from this barbarian, whose uncouth air and rude

manners drew upon him the gaze of many as they passed by. He now turned

into a narrower street behind the palace, and here he sought out a

common tavern, where the chequers, newly painted on the door posts,

betokened good entertainment for travellers. Having entered, the

hostess, whose tucked-up dress and general appearance, Martial, in his

epigrams, so cunningly describes, brought him a vase or flagon of wine.

It was not of the true Falernian flavour, as may be readily surmised,

but a mixture of stuff, which can hardly be described, of nauseous

taste, smelling abominably of resin or pitch, and flavoured with myrrh

and other bitters. Both hot and cold refections solicited the taste, and

regaled the sight of the visitor. Flitches of bacon were suspended from

above, and fire-wood stuffed between the rafters, black and smoky with

the reeking atmosphere below. At his own request, the stranger was

installed in a small chamber behind the public room, where stood a

couch, a three-footed table, and a lavatory. Here he was served with

radishes, cheese, and roasted eggs, in earthen vessels, with a relish of

cornels in pickle. Ere this refection was brought in, the table was

rubbed over with a sprig of mint, and the coarse pottery betrayed an

exquisite odour of thyme and garlic.

After the needful refreshments and ablutions, he sallied forth, first

inquiring for the residence of the Chaldean soothsayer, before whose

door, in due time, he arrived. The gate leading to the vestibule was

open, and he entered by a narrow passage terminated by a small inner

court. He paused, and looked round. No fountain played in the centre; a

clump of rank, unwholesome grass was the only decoration, but the object

of his search was a crooked, wooden staircase, which led to a sort of

gallery above. After a little hesitation, he ascended; his country

manners showing a determination to persevere until fairly delivered of

his errand. A door at the extremity of the gallery stood ajar, and

through this he made bold to enter. A Numidian slave, dwarfish and

deformed, was sweeping his master's chamber. He stopped short as the

barbarian, with a stupid and wondering look, entered the apartment.

After surveying the new comer with an air of deliberate scrutiny, the

dwarf burst forth into a violent fit of laughter.

"Mercury hath sent us precious handsel this morning, truly," said he,

when his diversion was concluded. "A pretty hound to scent out master's

lost goods. The gods do verily mock us in thy most gracious person."

The visitor looked on with dismay during this ungracious and taunting

speech. At length he stammered forth,

"Thy master, is he not the Chaldean to whom my mistress, knowing I was

bound for the city, hath sent me privily with a message?"

The Briton spoke this in a sort of guttural and broken Latin, which the

apish dwarf mimicked in the most mischievous and provoking way

imaginable. The messenger, irritated beyond endurance, placed both hands

on his weapon, but his antagonist, with little ado, tripped up his

heels, and the poor aborigine was completely at the mercy of this

grotesque specimen of humanity.

Grinning over him with spite and mischief in his looks, the dwarf

stamped on the floor; presently there came two slaves, who, without

further notice than a blow now and then when resistance was offered,

bound him with stout cords, and bade him lie there until he should be

further disposed of. Inquiry was vain as to the cause of this treatment.

Bound hand and foot, he was then tossed with little ceremony, and less

compunction, into a corner of the room; and there left to bemoan his

hard fate. Perched just above his head, sat the cunning raven, who eyed

him as though with serious intentions of pecking at him in his present

defenceless condition. He was soon aware of this additional source of

alarm, and as the bird's eye brightened and twinkled with greedy

anticipation, he rubbed his rapacious beak on the perch, apparently

whetting it for the feast. He then jumped down on the floor, and hopping

close to his victim, gave a hoarse and dismal croak, a death warning, it

might be, to the unfortunate captive. He tried to burst his bonds, and

shrieked out in the extremity of his alarm. His struggles kept the bird

at a distance, but it continued to survey him with such a longing,

liquorish eye, that the poor culprit felt himself already writhing, like

another Prometheus, under the beak of his destroyer. His terror

increased. It might be some demon sent to torment him; and this

conviction strengthened when he saw the dismal and hideous things that

surrounded him. Just as his agony was wrought to the highest pitch, he

heard footsteps. Even the sound was some relief. He knew not what

further indignities--not to say violence--he might expect; but at all

events, there would be a change, and it was hailed as an alleviation to

his misery.

The soothsayer presented himself, attended by the ugly dwarf.

"A stupid barbarian thou sayest the Fates have sent us?" said the

Chaldean, as he entered. "Bridle thine impious tongue, Merodac; what the

dweller in immortal fire hath decreed, will be accomplished, though by

weak and worthless creatures such as these. What ho! stranger, whence

art thou? and why art thou moved so early across our threshold?"

"My lord," said the prisoner, in a tone of entreaty, "these bonds are

unlawful--I am a freed man. Though a Briton, I am no slave, and I

beseech you to visit this indignity on that rogue, who hath so scurvily

entreated me."

"I was privy to it, else would he not have dared this."

"And to what end, good master?"

"That we may have an answer propitious to our suit."

"What! are ye about to sacrifice me to your infernal deities!" cried the

captive, almost frantic with the anticipation.

"My friend, thou art bound for another purpose; to wit that, through thy

instrumentality, we may discover the divining cup the emperor hath lost.

Knowest thou aught of this precious crystal?" inquired the Chaldean,

with a searching look.

But it were vain to describe the astonishment of the victim. He looked

almost in doubt of his own identity, or as if he were trying to shake

off the impression of some hideous dream. At length he replied,

"'Tis some device surely, that ye may slay me!"

He wept; and the tears trickling down his cheek, were indeed piteous to

behold, "I know not," said he, "your meaning. Let me depart."

"Nay," said the soothsayer, "thou mayest content thyself as thou list,

but the cup shall be found, and that by thy ministry. The emperor hath

offered rewards, nigh to the value of three silver talents, for the

recovery, and assuredly thou shalt be held in durance until it be

regained."

"And by whose authority?" inquired the Briton.

"Why, truly, it becometh thee to ask, seeing thou art a party interested

in the matter. The emperor, in whose care the jewel was left, hath sworn

by the River Styx, that unless the cup be brought back to the palace ere

to-morrow's dawn, he will punish the innocent with the guilty; and that

with no sparing hand. He hath already laid hands on some of the more

wealthy citizens, and amerced them in divers sums; others are detained

as hostages for suspected persons who are absent from the city. The loss

of this cup being connected with a daring attempt on the emperor's life

by some unknown hand, he doth suspect that the very palace wants purging

from treason; yet where to begin, or on whom to fasten suspicion, he

knoweth not. Mine art has hitherto failed me in the matter. The tools

they work with baffle my skill, save that the oracle I consult commanded

that I should lay hold on the first male person that came hither to-day,

and by his ministry the lost treasure should be restored. Shouldest thou

refuse, thou art lost; for assuredly the emperor will not be slow to

punish thy contumacy."

The miserable captive fell into great perplexity at this discourse. He

vowed he knew no more of the lost cup than the very stones he trod on;

that he had come since nightfall from his master, Lucius Claudius,

lieutenant and standard-bearer of the sixth legion, then at Isurium,[N]

on a mere casual errand to the city; and that his mistress, who was a

British lady of noble birth, had instructed him, at the same time, to

consult the soothsayer on some matters relative to her nativity, which

the sage had calculated some years back. Almost a stranger in these

parts, how could he pretend to begin the search? He begged piteously for

his release; promising, and with great sincerity, that he would never

set foot in this inhospitable region again. The magician inquired his

name.

"Cedric with the ready foot," was the reply. Unmoved by his entreaties,

the soothsayer said he had the emperor's command for the use of every

method he could devise for the recovery of this precious and priceless

jewel; and that, furthermore, the safety, and even lives of many

innocent persons depended on the stranger's exertions, and the speedy

execution of his mission. But how to begin, or in what quarter to

commence the search, was a riddle worthy of the Sphinx. A most

unexpected and novel situation for this rude dweller in woods and

morasses, to be suddenly thrust forth into a mighty city, without guide

or direction, more ignorant of his errand than any of its inhabitants.

Besides, he was not without a sort of incipient and instinctive dread,

that the catastrophe might procure him an interview with the emperor;

and he was filled with apprehension lest his own carcase might afford a

special treat, a sacrifice to the brutal appetite of the spectators in

the amphitheatre, after the manner of the _bestiarii_, or gladiators, of

whom he had often heard. Even could he have gotten word of this mishap

to his master, he was by no means certain it would be attended with any

beneficial result. The time was too short, and the will and mandate of

the emperor would render futile any attempt to obtain deliverance from

this quarter.

A few moments sufficed for these considerations. The glance of the mind,

when on the rack for expedients, is peculiarly keen, and hath an

eagle-like perception that appears as though it could pierce to the dim

and distant horizon of its hopes and apprehensions.

"Unbind these withes," said the captive, "I cannot begin the search in

this extremity."

"Merodac, undo these bonds; and see thou guard thy prisoner

strictly:--thy life answers for his safe keeping."

The dwarf, who seemed never so well pleased as when tormenting the more

fortunate and better shapen of his species, unloosed the cords with

something of the like feeling and intention as a cat when liberating

some unfortunate mouse from her talons.

"There's a chance of rare sport i' the shows to-morrow," said the ugly

jailor. "We are sure of _thee_, anyhow.--Didst ever see the criminals

fight with wolves, Hyrcanian bears, and such like? I would not miss the

sight for the best feather in my cap."

The cruel slave here rubbed his hands, and his yellow eyes glistened

with the horrible anticipation. His victim groaned aloud.

"I'll tell thee a rare device," continued he, "whereby thou mayest

escape being eaten, at least a full hour; and we shall have the longer

sport. Mind thee, the beasts do not always get the carcases for dinner.

If they be cowardly, and show little fight, we give the dead bestiarii

to the dogs. I remember me well the last we threw into the emperor's

kennel, the dogs made such a fighting for the carrion, that he ordered

each of us a flagellation for the disturbance. Let me see, there

was--ay--" here the knave began to count the number of shows and human

sacrifices he had seen, recounting every particular with the most

horrible minuteness. Cedric felt himself already in the gripe of the

savages, and his flesh verily quivered on his bones.

Brutal and demoralising were those horrid spectacles. The people of

Rome, it has been well observed by a modern writer, were generally more

corrupt by many degrees than has been usually supposed possible. Many

were the causes which had been gradually operating towards this result,

and amongst the rest, the continual exhibition of scenes where human

blood was poured forth like water. The continual excitement of the

populace demanded fresh sacrifices, until even these palled upon the

cruel appetites of the multitude. Even the more innocent exhibitions,

where brutes were the sufferers, could not but tend to destroy all the

finer sensibilities of the nature. "Five thousand wild animals, torn

from their native abodes in the wilderness and the forest," have been

turned out for mutual slaughter in one single exhibition at the

amphitheatre. Sometimes the _lanista_ or person who exhibited the shows,

and provided the necessary supplies, by way of administering specially

to the gratification of the populace, made it known, as a particular

favour, that the whole of these should be slaughtered. These, however,

soon ceased to stimulate the appetite for blood. From such combats,

"the transition was inevitable to those of men, whose nobler and more

varied passions spoke directly, and by the intelligible language of the

eye, to human spectators; and from the frequent contemplation of these

authorised murders, in which a whole people--women as much as men, and

children intermingled with both, looked on with leisurely indifference,

with anxious expectation, or with rapturous delight, whilst below them

were passing the direct sufferings of humanity, and not seldom its dying

pangs, it was impossible to expect a result different from that which

did, in fact, take place--universal hardness of heart, obdurate

depravity, and a twofold degradation of human nature, the natural

sensibility and the conscientious principle." "Here was a constant

irritation, a system of provocation to the appetite for blood, such as

in other nations are connected with the rudest stages of society, and

with the most barbarous modes of warfare."

"Whither wilt thou that we direct our steps?" inquired Merodac, with

mock submission, when the cords were unloosed.

"Lead the way--I care not," said his moody victim, "'tis as well that I

follow."

A bitter and scornful laugh accompanied the reply of the dwarf.

"That were a pretty device truly,--to let thee lag behind, and without

thy tether. Ah, ah," chuckled the squire as they left the chamber;

"Diogenes and his lantern was a wise man's search compared with ours."

How the slave came to be so learned in Grecian lore, we know not. His

further displays of erudition were cut short by the soothsayer, who

cried out to him as they departed,

"Remember, thy carcase for his, if he return not."

Now, in York, at this day, may be observed, where an angle of the walls

abuts on the "Mint Yard," a building named "the Multangular Tower," and

supposed to have been one of the principal fortifications of the city.

However this might be, its structure has puzzled not a little, even

those most conversant with antiquities. The area was not built up all

round, but open towards the city. The foundations of a wall have

latterly been discovered, dividing it lengthwise through the centre, and

continued, for some distance, into the town; so that the whole may not

inaptly be represented by a Jew-trump--the tongue being the division,

the circular end the present Multangular Tower, continued by walls on

each side. This building, we have every reason to conjecture, was the

Greek _stadium_ or Roman circus, which authors tell us was a narrow

piece of ground shaped like a staple; the round end called the barrier.

The wall dividing it lengthwise is the _spina_, or flat ridge, running

through the middle, which was generally a low wall, and sometimes merely

a mound of earth. This was usually decorated with statues of gods,

columns, votive altars, and the like. As a corroboration of this

opinion, there have been found here several small statues, altars, and

other figures, betokening a place of public resort or amusement.

The circus was not used merely for horse and chariot-races, but likewise

for wrestling--the _caestus_, and other athletic games. It was noted as

the haunt of fortune-tellers, and thither the poorer people used to

resort, and hear their fortunes told.[O]

Near this place stood the barracks, or _castra_. Long ranges of rooms,

divided into several stories, the doors of each chamber opening into one

common gallery, ascended by a wooden staircase.

Hither we must conduct our readers, at the close of the day on whose

inauspicious morning "Cedric with the ready foot," was placed in such

jeopardy.

The whole city meanwhile had been astir. The emperor's wrath and desire

of revenge were excited to the utmost pitch. He suspected treachery even

amongst the Praetorian guards,--his favourite and best-disciplined

troops; and there was an apprehension of some terrible disgrace

attaching even to them. Still, nothing further transpired implicating

the soldiery, save that the assassin had escaped, and, apparently,

through the very midst of the guard; yet no one chose to accuse his

fellow, or say by whose means this mysterious outlet was contrived. Not

even to his most confidential minister did the emperor reveal the

discovery of his son's weapon. Neither that son, nor his guilty

accomplices, if any, could be found; and the day was fast closing upon

the monarch's threat, that on the morrow his vengeance should have its

full work, unless the crystal goblet was restored.

There had been a public spectacle at the theatre, but the emperor was

not present; and such was the consternation of the whole city, that the

performance was but scantily attended. The city was apparently on the

eve of some sad catastrophe, and the whole population foreboding some

fearful event.

In the circus were yet some stray groups, who, having little employment

of their own, were listening for news, and loitering about, either for

mischief or amusement.

In one part was exhibited a narrow wooden box, not unlike to our

puppet-show, wherein a person was concealed, having figures made of wood

and earthenware, that seemed to act and speak, to the great wonder and

diversion of the audience.

As the rays of the declining sun smote upon the city walls and the white

sails of the barks below, there came into the circus the dwarf, who had

charge of Cedric. The captive now looked like a sort of appendage to

his person--being strapped to his arm by a stout thong of bull's hide,

such as was used for correcting refractory slaves. The hours allotted

for search were nearly gone. Day was drawing to a close, and Cedric had

done little else than bemoan his hard fate. The whole day had been spent

in wandering from place to place, urged on by the scoffs and jeers of

his companion. Some furtive attempts to escape had been the cause of his

present bondage. Hither, at length, they arrived. Tired and distressed,

he sat down on one of the vacant benches, and gave vent to his sorrows

in no very careful or measured language.

"What can I do?" said he, "a stranger in this great city--to set me

a-finding what I never knew? A grain of wheat in a barn full of chaff,

mayhap--a needle in a truss of hay--anything I might find, but what was

sheer impossible. And now am I like to be thrown to the dogs, like a

heap of carrion!"

"But the oracle, friend."

"Plague on the oracle, for----" Here his speech was interrupted; for

happening to look up, he saw, as he fancied, the eyes of one of the

little figures in the show-box ogling him, and making mouths in such

wise as to draw upon him the attention of the spectators, now roaring

with laughter at his expense. Reckless of consequences, and almost

furious from sufferings, he suddenly jumped up, and dragging the dwarf

along with him, made a desperate blow at the mimic, which, in a moment,

laid sprawling a whole company of little actors, together with the prime

mover himself, and the showman outside to boot. The fray, as may readily

be conceived, waxed loud and furious. The owners and bystanders not

discriminating as to the main cause of the attack, would have handled

both the keeper and the captive very roughly, had not the noise awakened

the attention of the soldiers in the neighbouring barracks. Hearing the

affray, a party ran to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, and

seeing two men whom a whole crowd had combined to attack, concluded they

were culprits, and forthwith hailed them before the captain of the

guard, a centurion, Diogenes Verecundus by name.

Cedric and the dwarf, being rescued from a sound beating, began to abuse

one another, as the cause of the disturbance; but the officer, by dint

of threats and inquiries, soon learned the truth of the matter.

"Thank the stars, I shall be rid of this pestilence to-morrow," said

Merodac; "my master could not have found me such another; and how the

Fates could pitch upon such a sorry cur for the business, seems passing

strange. If he find the cup, I'll be beaten to a jelly in it. Thy

carcase will be meat for the emperor's hounds to morrow."

"If, as thou sayest," said the centurion, "thou art so mightily weary of

thy charge, leave him to my care; I would fain have some discourse with

him privily, touching what thou hast spoken."

The slave hesitated.

"On the word of a Roman soldier he shall be forthcoming. Tell thy master

that Verecundus the centurion, hath taken thy prisoner captive. Here is

money for thee."

The Ethiop showed his teeth, like ivory studs on a coral band, while the

rings shook in his wrinkled ears, as he took the largess. Yet his brow

contracted, and he hung his head. He hesitated to unloose the bonds.

"By what token?" he at length inquired.

"By this!" said the centurion, taking up a thong for his correction.

"Stay," continued he, laying it down, "I will not punish thee

undeservedly. Take these, they will bear thee harmless with thy master."

The dwarf took the writing thankfully, and made the best of his way to

the dwelling of the soothsayer.

The officer now beckoned Cedric that he should follow. In a low room by

the guard-chamber at the gate, the following conversation took place.

"There is evil denounced us of a truth," said Verecundus; "but it may be

the gods have sent thee hither for our rescue, as the oracle hath said."

The Briton fixed his wondering eyes on the soldier, whilst he continued.

"I have pondered the words well, and if thou prove trusty, ere this

night pass, the plot shall be discovered, and the ringleaders secured.

We have need of such an one as thou--a stranger, whom they will not

suspect, and will use the intelligence he obtains with a vigilant and

cunning eye. There is work for thee, which, if well done, may bring thee

to great wealth and honour. If thou fail, we fall together in the same

ruin. There is a plot against the emperor; and one which hath its being,

ay, in the very secrets of the palace. Those nearest him, I am well

assured, are the chief movers in the conspiracy. 'Tis this makes it so

perilous to discover, and without a fitting agent the mischief will not

be overcome. I have thought to throw myself at the emperor's feet, but

having no proof withal to support my suspicions, I should, in all

likelihood, fall a sacrifice to my own fidelity."

"But how," asked the bewildered Cedric, "shall I discover them? Verily,

it doth seem that to-day I am destined to work out impossibilities. How

it comes to pass that a poor ignorant wretch like myself, should compass

these things, it faileth my weak fancy to discover!"

"The soothsayer's speech is not lightly to be regarded. Hark thee,

knave! Is life precious unto thee?"

"Yea, truly is it. I have a wife and children, besides a few herds and

other live stock, likewise sundry beeves i' the forest. But, unless I

can find favour in your eyes, my goods, alas! I am not like to see

again."

"Nor wilt thou, peradventure, again behold the light of yon blessed sun

which hath just gone down. The shades of evening are upon us, and the

shadows of death are upon thine eyelids; for, hark thee, I do suspect

some treasonable message in thine errand to the city."

Cedric, with a look of terror and incredulity, stammered out,

"As I live, I know not thy meaning!"

"Thou art in my power; and, unless thou servest me faithfully, thou

diest a cruel and fearful death. What was the exact message wherewith

thou wast entrusted?"

The Briton's countenance brightened as he replied,

"I give it thee, with right good will. No treason lurks there, I trow.

'Take this,' said my master, yesternight, giving me a signet ring; 'take

it to York by day-break. At the gate show it to the guard. If they let

thee pass, well. If not, return, for there is mischief in the city. At

the bridge, shouldest thou get so far, again show it, where, I doubt

not, thou shalt find thereby a ready passage. Seek thee out some

by-tavern, where thou mayest refresh; then, about mid-day go into the

street called the goldsmiths', and there inquire for one Caius Lupus,

the empress's jeweller. Show him the signet, and mark what he shall tell

thee.'"

"Thou hast given him the signet then?" said the centurion, sharply.

"Nay. For my mistress, as ill luck would have it, hearing of my journey,

and she having had some knowledge of the soothsayer's art aforetime,

bade me consult him ere my errand was ready with the goldsmith, and

deliver a pressing request for the horoscope which had been long

promised. What passed then, as thou knowest, is the cause of my

calamity."

"But didst thou not search out the dwelling of this same Caius, and do

thine errand?"

"I did. But in the straits which I endured, I was not careful to note

the time. An hour past mid-day, I sought out his dwelling; but he was

gone to the palace on urgent business with the empress, nor was it known

when he might return."

"Sayest thou so, friend? I would like to look at this same potent

talisman."

Cedric drew forth the ring. It was a beautiful onyx, on which, engraven

with exquisite workmanship, was a head of the youthful Caracalla,

encircled by a laurel wreath, showing marks of the most consummate

skill.

"Was thine errand told to the soothsayer?" was the next inquiry.

"Verily nay," said the messenger; "there was little space for parley ere

I was thrust forth."

"He saw not the signet, then?"

"Of a truth it has not been shown, save to the guards for my passport."

"Now, knave, thy life hangs on a thread so brittle that a breath shall

break it. This same goldsmith I do suspect; but thou shalt see him, and

whatsoever he showeth, I will be at hand that thou mayest tell me

privily. I will then instruct thee what thou shalt do. If thou fail not

in thy mission, truly thou shalt have great rewards from the emperor.

But if thou whisper--ay to the walls--of our meeting, thou diest!

Remember thou art watched. Think not to escape!"

The poor wretch caught hold on this last hope of deliverance, and

promised to obey.

There was a narrow vault beneath the women's apartments in the palace,

communicating by many intricate passages, with an outlet into the Forum.

Here, on this eventful night, was an unusual assemblage. The vault was

deep, even below the common foundations of the city, and where the light

of day never came. An iron lamp hung from one of the massy arches of the

roof; the damp and stagnant vapours lending an awful indistinctness to

the objects they surrounded. Chill drops lay on the walls and on the

slippery floor. The stone benches were green with mildew; and it seemed

as though the foot of man had rarely passed its threshold.

In this chamber, several individuals were now assembled in earnest

discourse, their conversation whispered rather than spoken; yet their

intrepid and severe looks, and animated gestures, ever and anon betrayed

some deep and resolute purpose more than usually portentous.

"An untoward event truly," said one of the speakers, Virius Lupus

himself, the emperor's private secretary. "If the old magician could

have been won, it had been well."

"He might have saved the encounter and hazard we must now undergo. But

let him hold his fealty. We have stout hearts and resolute hands enow to

bring the matter to a successful issue." Thus spoke Caracalla, the

unnatural eldest born of his father.

"And yet," replied the secretary, "he hath a ready admittance to his

person, and a great sway over thy father's councils."

"I heed him not, now that brave men work. It were time that our trusty

servant, the commander at Isurium, had sent the message, with the token

I left him on my departure. Ere this, we ought to have known the hour we

may expect his troops to move on the capital. I had thought to have made

all safe; to have put it beyond the power of fate to frustrate our

purpose; but I was foiled like a beardless boy at his weapons." He

gnashed his teeth as he spoke; and this monster of cruelty breathed a

horrible threat against the life even of a parent and a king.

"Here is the roll," said one, who from his inkhorn and reed-pen seemed

to be the scribe; and whose ambition had been lured by a promise that he

should have the office of sextumvir in the imperial city.

"Here be the names and disposition of the troops; the avenues and gates

to which they are appointed."

"We but wait a messenger from Isurium to make our plans complete," said

Caracalla. "By the same courier I send back this cypher. Examine it,

Fabricius. The troops of Lucius Claudius are to march directly on the

Forum, and slay all who attempt resistance. Thou, Virius Lupus, wilt

guide them through the secret passage into the palace."

The secretary bowed assent.

"Though the empress knows not our high purpose, it is by her connivance

we are here, safe from the emperor's spies. Under her mantle we are

hidden. Suspicion hath crossed her that I am about to head the troops;

that my father, oppressed with age and infirmities, will retire to Rome;

and that I, Caracalla, rule in Britain."

"Then she knows not the mishap of yesternight?"

"She knows of the attempt, but not the agent. I would the messenger were

come. 'Tis an unforeseen delay. I pray the gods there be not treachery

somewhere. The officers and guard at the Calcarian gate and the bridge

are ours; they were instructed to obey the signet."

"We will vouch for their fidelity," said two or three of the

conspirators.

"Should he not arrive before midnight, we must strike," said Fabricius.

"Ay, as before," said the more cautious secretary. "But we may now get a

broken head for our pains."

"The time brooks not delay," said Caracalla. "Every moment now is big

with danger to our enterprise."

"Be not again too hasty," replied the secretary, "there be none that

will divulge our plans. Let every part be complete before we act. We

cannot succeed, should there be a disjointed purpose."

Caracalla vehement, and unused to the curb, was about to reply, when

the door opened and a dumb slave slowly entered. He crossed his hands,

and pointed to the door.

"A messenger," said they all.

"The gods are at last propitious," said Caracalla. "Let him approach."

Soon one was led in by the sentinel, blindfolded, and the latter

immediately withdrew.

"The sign," cried the secretary.

The stranger, without hesitation, presented a ring.

"'Tis the same," said Caracalla. He touched a concealed spring in the

signet, and from underneath the gem drew forth a little paper with a

scrap of writing in cypher. It was held before the lamp, and the

intelligence it contained rendered their plot complete. Ere break of day

the deed would be accomplished. The morning would see Caracalla

proclaimed, and Severus deposed.

"Have ye any token to my master?" inquired the messenger.

"Take back this writing," said Virius Lupus. "Thou wilt find him not far

from the city. We wait his coming."

"This leaden-heeled Mercury should have a largess," said the chief, "but

in this den we have not wherewithal to give him. Hold! here is a good

recompence, methinks," continued he, taking the crystal goblet from a

recess. "Take this to thy mistress, and tell her to buy it from thee. We

will see her anon. That charmed cup hath foiled me once, but I will foil

thee now, and the powers thou servest. Thou shall not again cross my

path!"

Cedric took the gift, wrapping it beneath his cloak.

"Thou mayest depart."

The dumb sentinel again took charge of him, and led him away by many

intricate passages towards the entrance, where it seems the goldsmith

had directed him on presenting the signet of Caracalla. The person who

took charge of him was a dumb eunuch, a slave in the service of the

empress.

But the terrors of death were upon the wretched victim. He knew the

centurion would assuredly be at hand to receive his report, and he could

not escape. He had not brought back one word of intelligence; and, being

blindfolded, he knew not whither he had been taken. The writing he

carried would assuredly be unintelligible, save to those for whom it was

intended. His mission, he could perceive, had utterly failed. The

centurion would not be able to profit by any thing he had brought back,

and must, inevitably, according to his pledge, at once render him up to

the soothsayer. Whilst ruminating on his hard fate, a sudden thought

crossed him. There was little probability of success; but, at all

events, it might operate as a diversion in his favour, and the design

was immediately executed. Skulking for a moment behind the slave, he

tore off the bandage, and tripped up the heels of his conductor. Before

the latter could recover himself, the Briton's gripe was on his throat.

"Now, slave, thou art my prisoner! Lead on, or, by this good sword, thou

diest!"

The torch he carried was, luckily, not extinguished in the fall. The

eunuch, almost choaking, made a sign that he would obey. With the drawn

blade at his throat, the slave went on; but Cedric, ever wary, and with

that almost instinctive sagacity peculiar to man in his half-civilised

state, kept a tiger-like watch on every movement of his prisoner, which

enabled him to detect the fingers of the slave suddenly raised to his

lips, and a shrill whistle would have consigned him over to certain and

immediate destruction; but he struck down the uplifted hand with a blow

which made his treacherous conductor crouch and cringe almost to the

ground.

"Another attempt," said Cedric, "and we perish together!"

The wily slave looked all penitence and submission. Silently proceeding,

apparently through the underground avenues of the palace, Cedric was

momentarily expecting his arrival at the place where the centurion kept

watch. A flight of steps now brought them to a spacious landing-place.

Suddenly a lamp was visible, and beneath it sat a number of soldiers,

the emperor's body-guard. They gave way as the eunuch passed by,

followed by Cedric, his sword still drawn. Several of these groups were

successively cleared: the guide, by a countersign, was enabled to thread

his way through every obstacle that presented itself. The Briton's heart

misgave him as they approached a vestibule, before which a phalanx of

the guards kept watch. Here he thought it prudent to sheath his weapon,

though he still followed the eunuch, as his only remaining chance of

escape. Even here they were instantly admitted, and without any apparent

hesitation. The door turned slowly on its pivot, and Cedric found

himself in a richly decorated chamber, where, by the light of a single

lamp, and with the smell of perfumed vapour in his nostrils, he saw a

figure in costly vestments reclining on a couch. The slave prostrated

himself.

"What brings thee from thy mistress at this untimely hour? A message

from the empress?"

Here the speaker raised himself from the couch, and the slave, with

great vehemence, made certain signs, which the wondering Briton

understood not.

"Ah!" said the emperor, his eyes directly levelled at the supposed

culprit; "thou hast found the thief who, in the confusion of

yesternight, bore away the magic cup. Bring him hither, that I may

question him ere his carcase be sent to the beasts."

The doomed wretch was now fairly in the paws of the very tyrant he had

so long dreaded. The death, which by every stratagem he had striven to

avoid, was now inevitable. He was betrayed by means of the very device

he had, as he thought, so craftily adopted; but still his natural

sagacity did not forsake him, even in this unexpected emergency. As he

prostrated himself, presenting the cup he had stowed away safely in his

cloak, he still kept a wary eye on the slave who had betrayed him. He

saw him preparing to depart; and, knowing that his only hope of

deliverance lay in preventing his guide from giving warning to the

conspirators they had just left, Cedric, with a sudden spring, leaped

upon him like a tiger, even in presence of the monarch.

The latter, astounded at this unexpected act of temerity, was for a few

moments inactive. This pause was too precious to be lost. Desperation

gave him courage, and Cedric addressed the dread ruler of the world even

whilst he clutched the gasping traitor.

"Here, great monarch, here is the traitor; and if I prove him not false,

on my head be the recompense!"

He said this in a tone of such earnestness and anxiety that the emperor

was suddenly diverted from his purpose of summoning his attendants. He

saw the favourite slave of the empress writhing in the gripe of the

barbarian; but the events of the last few hours had awakened suspicions

which the lightest accusations might confirm. He remembered his son's

guilt, the facility of his escape; and it might be that treason stood on

the very threshold, ready to strike. He determined to sift the matter;

and, the guard now summoned, the parties were separated,--each awaiting

the fiat of the monarch.

"Where is Virius Lupus?" was the emperor's first inquiry.

"He hath not returned from the apartments of the empress."

"Let this slave be bound," cried Cedric. "Force him to conduct you even

to the place whence, blindfold, he hath just led me; and if you find

not a nest of traitors, my own head shall be the forfeit."

Dark and fearful was the flash that shot from the emperor's eye on the

devoted eunuch. Pale and trembling he fell on his knees, supplicating,

with uplifted hands, for mercy. He knew it was vain to dissemble.

"And what wert thou doing in such perilous company?" inquired the

emperor, turning to Cedric, and in a voice which made him shrink.

"Let the centurion, Diogenes Verecundus, be sought out. He waits my

return by the Forum Gate. To him the city owes a discovery of this plot,

and Rome her monarch!"

The faithful centurion was soon found. The eunuch conducted them

secretly to the vault. The conspirators were seized in the very height

of their anticipated success. The roll containing the names of the

leaders, the plan of attack, and the disposition of the rebellious

troops, was discovered; and the morning sun darted a fearful ray on the

ghastly and bleeding heads uplifted on the walls and battlements of the

imperial palace.

But with misplaced clemency the monster Caracalla was again pardoned.

The centurion Diogenes Verecundus was raised to the dignity of Sexumvir.

The only reward claimed by the generous and sturdy Briton was an act of

immunity for his master, who was merely dismissed from his post and

banished the kingdom.

FOOTNOTES:

[N] Aldborough.

[O] Lubinus in Juven. p. 294.

APPENDIX.

One morning, during Mr. Roby's stay at Keswick, in September 1849, it

was reported that the floating island in the lake was making its

appearance. He immediately took a boat, and we hastened with a friend to

the spot. The island was plainly to be seen at a short distance below

the surface of the water, nearly approaching it in some parts, in others

gradually retreating beyond our sight. It was easily touched with a

stick, and appeared covered with vegetation. We grappled up with the

boat-hook, and brought away, as a memento of our visit, a specimen of

the _Isoetes Lacustris_ (European quill-wort), a plant which grows

abundantly at the bottom of the lakes in this district. The boatmen

rowed carefully about, afraid of passing over the island, lest the boat

should run aground. It gave a strange feeling thus to find land coming

up where, a few days before, we had floated in deep water. It did not

rise any higher, but, after continuing for a day or two in the state

just described, sank gradually to its old position at the bottom of the

lake. The last time it was visible, some years since, it rose above the

surface.

It lies at some distance from the shore on the Barrow side of the lake,

between the Barrow landing and Lodore. It was near the former spot that

we gathered the _Circaea Alpina_ (Alpine Enchanter's Nightshade) in

fruit, growing side by side with the _Silene Maritima_ (Sea Campion).

The botanical reader will, perhaps, feel an interest in the notice of

two or three other localities of the rarer plants. In the same

direction, high up among the rocks, near Ashness Gill, Mr. Roby found

the _Oxyria reniformis_ (Kidney-shaped Mountain-sorrel.) The _Salix

Herbacaea_ (Least Willow), the smallest of British trees, and _Lycopodium

Alpinum_ (Savin-leaved Club-moss), on Skiddaw, their well known

habitat; the latter plant also, with the _Alchemilla Alpina_ (Alpine

Lady's-mantle), its silvery leaves glistening in the sun, on the

mountain-side opposite Honister Crag. In the wild and shady nooks of

Borrowdale, the _Polypodium Phegopteris_ (Pale Mountain-polypody) and

the _P. Dryopteris_ (Tender Three-branched Polypody), growing in

charming profusion. And on Dunmail Raise, and on the precipitous descent

of the Stake between Langdale Pikes and Bowfell, the golden stars of the

_Saxifriga Azoides_ (Yellow Mountain-saxifrage) were still sparkling,

where a little moisture allowed them to flourish.

THE END.

LONDON:

SPOTTISWOODES and SHAW,

New-street-Square.

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| Transcriber's Notes: |

| |

| Words surrounded by _ are italicized. |

| |

| Obvious punctuation errors have been corrected, other |

| punctuations have been left as printed in the paper book. |

| |

| Titles have been added to the music pages (page 121-122) based |

| on Table of Contents. |

| |

| Obvious printer's errors have been corrected, including: |

| - Page 162-207, incorrect spellings of character names repaired, |

| ("RONALD" corrected to be "ROLAND," "HERMOINE" corrected to be |

| "HERMIONE") |

| - Page 317, "Herman" corrected to be "Hermann" (Doctor Hermann |

| Sichel) |

| - Page 360, "c[oe]stus" correced to be "caestus" (the _caestus_) |

| |

| Other variable spellings retained, including variable usage of |

| accent (e.g. "winged" and "winged"), ligature ("daemon" and |

| "demon"), hyphen (e.g. "a-ground" and "aground"), archaic form |

| (e.g. "can" and "canst"), any other inconsistent spellings (e.g. |

| "synonyms" and "synonymes") |

| |

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