Imágenes de páginas

the house required no other sign, everybody, except | said of the two Greek polysyllables,—the one meining such as ourselves, knew “ The Porcupine.” ing, by a free translation, "a place for handsoule Matters are very differently ordered in Scotland. torgery," and the other “a copious fitting-out shop." Every successive landlord brings his own sign with The only wonder is that the Jewish gentlemen to him, so that a house, if it be long used for a “public," whom these establishments belong do not vo to in course of time fits on as many names as a modern Hebrew instead of Greek literature in seareh of swindler. In many cases, however, pictorial signs are mystification. It is amusing to remark a - Hat despised; the words, “ Foreign and British Spirits," | Mart," with an assortment of empty paper buxos, following the name, are considered to be quite suffi- ' intermingled with a few dozens of undeniable “ foar cient for all ordinary purposes. Occasionally a more and nines ;" or an “Emporium,” with a paltry disaspiring landlord ventures to add, “ Entertainment play of faded fag-ends, the refuse of more respectable, for Man and Beast;” not meaning, however, to insi. 'but less ostentatious drapers. This absurd nomennuate that Foreign and British Spirits are to be clature is fast creeping even into country towns, but understood as the one and the other. Our town'only with beginners; the old steady hands eschew landlords, in departing from the stock signs, cannot , " depots," and such like, as religiously as they would be complimented on the display of a much superior moustaches. They are content merely to announce taste, although occasionally they also show wit: the their profession, and sometimes even do not go so following appearing in a Manchester pane of glass : far, but permit the goods contained in the windows “ Fine Old Tom, twopence per smack”—Anglice, to form their sole announcement. The village shopgin at twopence a glass. We also meet with a keeper, although the multiplicity of the commodities Waverley, a Byron, or a Sir Walter Scott Tavern; in which he traffics might justify him in assuining but far oftener with a Sam Weller, a Victoria, or an one of these extensive titles, displays a commendable Albert-indeed the profusion of the last mentioned modesty in abiding by the good old Venetian name of is somewhat notorious. It may be meant as an merchant. We once noticed an attempt at an enuexpression of loyalty ; but foreigners would be dis-meration of the articles in which he dealt on the posed to think it more like an illustration of toady- sign of one of these merchants in the village of ism-an embodiment of that worship for rank and Scone; it ran as follows: wealth for which, as a nation, it is said that we are

Haberdasher and Grocer. Licensed for Tea and distinguished.

Tobacco-Nails and Tacks-Garden Seeds--A Chimney sweeps give their grim patronage to the

Miangle kept. fine arts. They generally delight to exhibit on their sign boards a representation of a biped, dressed in an

Besides these matters, the gentleman also dealt in excessively bright blue coat, carrying a ladder on his butcher meat, stationery, and toys. This reminds shoulder, and followed by a couple of young soot

us of one of these general dealers_ " Willie a' bags, proceeding, by a very tortuous path, towards

things," as they are called in Scotland, who kept a a house, meant to represent a gentleman's country

shop in a small country town on the borders. He

shop in a su residence, from which the smoke appears to be

dealt in all imaginable, and not a few unimaginable ascending in an exceedingly pleasant manner, be

things, and prided himself not a little on the variety tokening very absurdly no need of the able services

and completeness of his stock. On one occasion à of the sable artificer. One of these worthies, in the

gentleman of the town made a bet with a stranger city of St Mungo, in addition to the usual pictorial

that he could not take Willie at a loss for any portembellishments, has his board garnished with the

able article, no matter what it might be. The following effusion:-

wager was made, and the party proceeded to the

shop to decide it. Accordingly, he demanded to be Thomson Blak, he do live here, To sweep your chimneys not to deere;

favoured with a coffin, and although this was almost And if the vents they do take fire,

the last article that might be expected in such a Hell put them out at your desire.

place, Willie did not appear to be at all non-plussed, More laconic than this was the following, which wel but coolly dragged down from his garret a sable noted at Exeter. After mentioning his profession of

ession of chest, which had by mistake been made of a wrong “ Smock Doctor,” the gentleman added,


In passing we may mention an absurd way of Surely they're fools who would endure

painting signs now becoming very common, thusWhat I so easily can cure.

DRAPER SnookS & Another which we shall give, and for which we are

TAILOR. also indebted to Glasgow, is, we think, superior to

which any ordinary quid-nunc would suppose was ; either of the above. We saw it not many years ago

the name of a firm instead of what it really is, the on a barber's shop in the High Street. Under a re

interesting announcement being that Mr Snooks is presentation of Absalom caught by the hair in a tree,

a draper as well as a tailor. With other announcewere these lines,

ments we are puzzled, if not staggered altogether,

such as
If Absalom had worn a wig,
He ne'er had hung upon a twig.

Messages run down this Closs at Sixpence an Hour Of late years, shopkeepers have pressed into their

by John Ross. service every high-sounding word which they thought Now we can imagine few things more hopeless would suit their purpose; consequently emporiums, than for Mr Ross to expect that he will find people marts, repositories, saloons, galleries, &c., have mul- so foolish as to employ him to run messages down a tiplied exceedingly. Still more recently “ cosmoca- “ closs” at the extravagant rate of sixpenee an hour; pelions,” “ pantechnethecas," and other jaw-breaking if for no other reason than the gratification of the and tongue-torturing words have been added to the curious, he ought to mention whether he charges an colleetion; and were it not that the infliction has come extra rate when employed to run up “ the closs." On gradually upon us, we would be startled to find a shop in Edinburgh we noticed the following a ourselves in such imposing company. In some in- few days ago, in all the glory and glitter of gilt stances the intelligible part of these fine titles are lettersludicrously misapplied, which cannot however be ! Dairy Butter and Weekly Eggs.


Of hen and duck eggs we have had some slight! They had been married sixteen years; but there was experience, but as regards “weekly” eggs we plead neither heir nor heiress to inherit the united estates of utter ignorance. We do think that were the party Claroville and St Quintin--a circumstance which weighed who makes this announcement to advertise for ex-heavily on the mind of Lord Raymond, but seemed by hibition "a Live Weekly," he would be more suc

no means regretted by his lady. cessful than even the Irishman was with his well

There was a story among the old retainers that she known exhibition of “ a Worser." If he takes this

had been an unwilling bride, and compelled by a threat

of her father, who was bent on the match, that if she did hint we shall look for a complimentary ticket.

not marry Lord Raymond he would will away her hereBut there is no end to the eccentricities of sign ditary estate, agreeably to the terms of the contract made boards. They will tell us that John Milton is an with the family of Count Claroville, when, according to undertaker ; Samuel Johnson, a dealer in marine the wisdom of “the good old times they were affianced stores ; Walter Scott, a carpenter; John Knox, a | in their infancy; and whether it was that the lady's pride cork-cutter; David Hume, an umbrella-mender. Or could not bear to be stript of so great a heritage, or that they will furnish us with illustrations of u the fitness she disliked the convent, which was her only alternative, of things” by informing us, as at Bristol, that Mary

certain it is, that Count Raymond and she were married Ann Halfyard is a milliner, or, as at Leith, that James

with great pomp and splendour at her father's castle, Cows keeps a dairy. Of a surety the schoolinaster

where she had reigned alone almost since the death of has been at work upon sign boards as at a labour of

her mother, which occurred early. The Lady St Quintin

had been of Spanish, or rather it was thought of Moorish, love, and that he has not forgotten himself by the

blood, and strongly attached to the Romish cause, which way, let the following from the village of Halton

created many disputes between her and Count Philip, Eastern, near Skipton-in-Craven, stand in evidence who had always been attached to the Haguenots and the Watkinson's

honse of Navarre: yet an old confidential nurse, when Acadamy.

dying, confessed that her mistress was a Saracen at heart, Whatever Man has done, Man may do.

and had taught her daughter the same faith from ancient Arab books, which it was believed the lady studied oftener

than her manual, though apparently a very rigid Catholic. Dealer in Groceries,

The Countess Claroville, indeed, possessed much of the &c.

Eastern form and feature, which was said to distinguish

her mother. She was tall and finely formed, but dark in LE POISSON D'AVRIL.

complexion and age, and her locks had once been richly

raven; but they had grown early dim and gray, and the AN ORIGINAL TALE.

expression of her countenance, though wondrous proud BY FRANCES BROWN.

and stern, had at times a mixture of hopeless sorrow in Author of the “ Star of Atteghei," &c.

it, as if for something loved and lost long ago, and sought We know not by what institution of the golden age the for now in vain. There was indeed a whisper of an old first day of April was rendered sacred to Folly ; but so it love, known in her maiden days, and a youth whom she has been in the most remote times, and in widely-separ- | met in the woods of St Quintin, when her father was ated nations. The April Fool of our Saxon ancestors abroad at the wars, and she was queen of his castle; but found its resemblance in Le Poisson d'Avril of their who the lover was, or what was the end of their meetings, more polite, though not always friendly neighbours, of the none could tell, for no vassal knew. But there was a continent. And it is a curious fact, that the Counts of bold bandit, supposed to be a noble Breton, who had Claroville, a noble house of Normandy, adopted as their forfeited life and lands by an act of treason, in slaying arms a fish, with the April sobriquet as their motto, which one of the royal foresters, and who consequently had circumstance is said to have originated in the following gone with his sword to the woods and highways of Norstory.

mandy, where his followers were many, and soon set It was at the close of the desolating war of the League, both king and court at open defiance, living as they could when the Gallic land rested beneath the sceptre of him through the troubled times of the League, the terror of who still reigns in her songs—the gallant Henri Quatre | the rich, and the proteetion of the poor. The bandit was

--that Count Raymond de Claroville returned in peace shot at last in mortal fray with the armed retainers of to the ancient castle and wide domain of St Quintin, the then young Count Claroville, who received King possessed in right of his lady, the only daughter and Henry's thanks for ridding him of such a troublesome heiress of Philip, fifth Count de St Quintin, who fell subject. And some had linked the lady's name with that fighting for King Henry at the siege of Rochelle. Count of the Breton bandit; but whether it was the memory of Raymond had also served the house of Navarre, though dear blood shed, or her mother's hidden faith, or her own not a Huguenot: but his fortunes in the war had been professed attachment to the cause of Rome, and Count varied. and often adverse ; and now, when peace was | Raymond's leanings to the Huguenots, certain it was, she come at last, he returned to the long deserted castle, to loved him not, and the count was a childless husband, the great joy of his numerons vassals ; for the large village and an heirless lord. Yet De Claroville was noble in of St Quintin was all his own, and even in those days the birth and bearing, and comely still, though war and feudal rights were strong. But what was most strange, weather had roughened and bronzed the once fair brow, though the peasantry had been for many generations where time, or it might be care, which has often pressed vassals of her house, small was their love for the Countess so heavily under knightly helmets, had traced some early de Claroville.

furrows beneath the dark brown hair. It was said that few of her dependants rejoiced to see In youth, he had been known among the gayest gallants the dame; for, though nobly born, and still deemed fair of his day, alike in list and banquet; and long before he to look upon, she had a most stern and stately manner, saw or wedded the heiress of St Quintin, there was one with great pride of spirit, strong passions, and a will so in his father's castle, gay of heart and fair of face, though determined, that Lord Raymond would have preferred | an orphan and a portionless maid, more loved than she venturing to oppose the King, or even the great Duke with all her dark beauty and broad lands. But the Sully, to gainsaying in the least his sovereign lady's family contract forbade their union, and the church had word. Indeed, it was believed that the only thing Lord banned their love (for the Clarovilles, like the good lord Raymond feared, at least on this side of the grave, was of Toulouse în earlier times, though they fought against the countess. Yet they had lived quietly, and seldom | Rome, had never forsworn their faith). Ambrosine de met even in the castle. The count spent his time hunt. Lavelle was his cousin. The girl retired in early youth ing in the wide old woods of St Quintin, and the lady into a distant convent in Provence, her mother's country, her own apartments, poring over books, of which she was and many wondered, for Ambrosine had not the heart of supposed to possess a larger collection than most of the a nun, but she went suddenly, and died while yet a nobility of that period.

novice; and then Coumt Raymond went to the war, but returned just three years after, to wed his wealthy and near, when a noble knight came with his lady and a affianced bride, whom, if he did not love, he seemed to gallant train, to spend the festive season at the castle of care for more at least than she did for him.

St Quintin. The stranger was known as the Count We know not if it were that his lady slighted, or his Fitzhubert, and Lord Raymond welcomed him and his prince required his company; but Count Raymond's with greater joy and more distinguished honours than visits to his home bad been but brief and few. The he was wont to dispense to even his noblest guests. countess had never shared his perils, and now that he Fitzhubert was indeed a gallant goodly knight, though returned at last, she seemed not to share the joy of his somewhat past the radiant days of youth. His dame, arrival, though it was great and general; for Count of Italian blood, seemed scarce less haughty, but far less Raymond was esteemed by all who knew him, in spite of fair than the Lady St Quintin, who showed her all a temper that blazed like kindled stubble on the first courtesy as a guest. Though their meeting was like provocation, but soon burned out its anger, which was rival queens, in an hour of peace, and neither seemed far less feared even by his dependants than the silent much at ease, yet the countess did the honours of her pride and cold sternness of his lady, of whom, notwith-house as if she knew her visitors were those that had standing the haste of his own wrath, the count himself not many equals. stood somewhat in awe.

The fête of our lady came at last, and the peasants Time passed on, and the villagers of St Quintin sowed who had in the morning thronged the church with detheir corn and dressed their vines, content and happy votion worthy of the land of the first crusaders, in the under the sway of their good lord; but about a month evening assembled in their village green, round the old after his coming, there arrived amongst them a stranger, oak tree, wreathed with dark-green ivy, and hallowed by much more interesting at least in the eyes and hearts of a wooden image of the Virgin, which stood at its foot, the younger peasants. This was a girl about nineteen, and had heard the prayers and dances of St Quintin from fair and slight, with shining curls and sunny eyes, whose generation to generation since the days of Rolla. Young glance had seen no sorrow. She came with a good cheer- and old, maid and matron, all were in their best apparel ful dame of the prudent age of fifty, whom she called and rustic fashion of the time. The young, crowned mother, though there was no resemblance between them with garlands of the earliest flowers, danced to the sound like that of a parent and child. The dame might have of pipe and symbal, and the aged, seated beneath the been fair in youth, but her face and mind were of the oak of their fathers, felt their youth return for a moment, village order, whilst the girl, whom she called daughter, as they gazed upon the merriment, and forgot the winters had a brow and air that would have graced nobility. which had made them gray. There too, in a rustic Besides, she could read and write, and play the lute, rare pavilion overlooking the festive scene, sat Lord Rayaccomplishments in those days among the peasant girls mond and his noble guests, with a gay and numerous of Normandy; and her speech and manner had a higher train of damsels, squires and pages, for none were absent tone than those common to villagers. Her name was but the countess, who had attended no festival since the Claire, and that of her mother Marie, and they seemed tournament on her eighteenth birth-day, in which the to have no other.

Breton bandit, as the victorious knight, received from Nothing was known of their history, but that they her hand the prize, a bracelet woven of mingled pearls came from Provence, and long before their arrival, a and her own then shining hair, and her ladyship's concottage had been prepared for them by strange workmen, fessor, Father Paul, who was under a vow never to look at the command of Lord Raymond, who, kind as he was upon a dance since his superior found him with a lay and liberal to all his vassals, seemed to take an extra brother footing it merrily down the centre aisle of St ordinary interest in their affairs. The peasants marvelled Gregory of Tours, on the vigil of Christmas, while a why and wherefore ; but at last the mystery was explain- wine-flask nearly empty, on the steps of the high altar, ed; for a shepherd, who had been out late and long in too plainly told the cause of the good capuchins' mirth. search of a stray lamb, chanced to pass the cottage Well it was for the good father's vow that the merriwhich was situated in a sweet but rather lonely nook, atment of the scene was too distant to reach his ears, for a short distance from the village-as the old church clock few eyes or hearts, even of frozen age, could resist its chimed midnight, and saw by the light of the moon young influence, which gradually became more and more powerClaire and a stranger, wrapped in a dark mantle, emerge ful as the evening wore on, till many a gray head left its from the door. As the shepherd advanced, the stranger place, and many a prudent matron caught the spirit of whispered “Good night," and walked hastily away; but their spring-time once again, and mingled with their the night was breezy, and as the wind blew aside his children in the wild but joyous maze. mantle, the shepherd discovered the dress and features The spirit of the hour reached the pavilion also. Pair of Count Paymond.

after pair left their dignified seats, till not only the young Villagers could gossip even in the feudal times, and pages but the hardy squires and courtly damsels were before another day, it was whispered over St Quintin, moving hand in hand with the village youths and maids that the count found a recompense in the cottage for all of St Quintin. the coldness or aversion he experienced in the castle; “By the mass, we are the only unhappy here,” cried but the countess was not to be trifled with, and therefore the Count Fitzhubert, glancing at his Italian bride, secrecy was his best policy in such a business. In spite "Comc, Marie, and good Lord Raymond, let us join the of all such tales, the young men of the village loved to dancers." linger about the cottage, and tried to meet Claire on her “Nay, I am not used to dance with peasants," said the way to church, or to secure her hand in the village dance. dame coldly, but Fitzhubert heard not her reply, for at Many rivalries were caused, and some courtships broken that moment his eye was caught by a girl who had just off, in the first month of her stay at St Quintin ; and it entered the assembly in company with a discreet matron was said that she had more than one suitor with good -it was Claire of Provence and her mother. That inci. and serious intentions. But Claire seemed to think little dent seemed to decide the question with the count, for of them or their offers. She sat spinning all day beside without hazarding another invitation to his consort, he her mother, and her only amusement seemed to be look- stepped lightly from the pavilion, and the next moment ing out from door or window far away for the coming of was bending, in courtly fashion, before the beautiful some one expected-perhaps it was Lord Raymond-or peasant, and in knightly terms requesting her hand for singing to her lute with a low sweet voice, songs, which the dance. After some parley this was obtained, and as she said she had learned from a Breton minstrel wander- they moved among the joyous crowd, all eyes were ing in her own Provence. The music was sad and wild, turned, some in admiration, some in envy, on the gracelike all the Breton songs that come down from the old | ful cavalier and his fair though lowly partner. But Celtic people and the Druid times, as the voice of a race there was one eye that seemed as if it could scorch them passing away.

both with its glance of furious jealousy. The Lady It was in the sunny days that come at the close of Fitzhubert followed their every motion with an intense breezy March, the early leaves were in the woods, and but wrathful gaze. In vain Lord Raymond strove to the young corn was green, and the fête of our lady was persuade her to join with him in the rural festivities. Her cold and hanghty answer was still that she had not secrated to frolic and folly, and the Count Fitzhubert been used to dance among peasants, and once she in was pacing along on the lofty terraee of the castle ; but quired who that bold and forward damsel might be who often he turned his eye in the direction of the village, dared to dance so freely with her husband.

and muttered to himself, with a dissatisfied air, “ How Lord Raymond's glance flashed with a strange fire at long the knave lingers." But his countenance brightened the question, but the fierce emotion changed to some as Jaspar, his young and trusty page, came quickly up, thing like deep sorrow as he answered, “She is a maiden with a face full of intelligence. "Well, Jaspar," said the of unknown birth, but her merit is great, and her fame count, " what hast thou discovered regarding the maid without a stain.”

and her strange lover?” " It is well” said the jealous Italian, “but methinks “ Only this, my lord,” said the page, that the Breton her partners in the dance should be chosen in her own is lingering yet about the village, and the peasants have condition. But yonder comes a minstrel, followed by it among them that the maid steals forth to meet him in a friar. My lord, are they of your retainers ?."

the twilight, under the shadow of the old vine that grows The lady, who had thought proper thus to change the behind the cottage ; but their meetings are in secret, it is subject, now directed Count Raymond's attention to two said, because of Lord Raymond, who frequents the house, strangers, who stood on a rising ground at some distance and is known to have taken a marvellous care of both the gazing on the scene. The elder of the pair was a friar, | maid and her mother." evidently of the mendicant order, and though bowed with “Ha!” cried Fitzhubert, is that the game, Jaspar ? I age his figure was still tall, and there was much of dignity would not have dreamt of this, there is so much purity in his air and appearance; but his brow was furrowed, in her bright young eyes, but I have a great mind to and the expression of his countenance sad and careworn, play off a jest befitting the day,--thou knowest it is the and he seemed to remonstrate with his companion ear- | 1st of April,--on both Lord Raymond and the Breton, nestly, but in vain. He was a tall fair youth, with dark the saucy varlet, I cannot forget the scorn he showed me curling hair, and frank handsome countenance, and in at the village dance. Strange that the girl should have spite of his minstrel garb, and the small harp which he preferred his hand to mine! Here, Jaspar, thou shalt carried in the fashion of the troubadour, there was a be my messenger; take this signet ring, which Lord martial air about him that spoke of tents and arms. His Raymond dropped wbile walking with me here a few gaze seemed rivetted on the scene before him, and well it minutes ago. He is gone to entreat his lady for an might, for even old Normandy had few such prospects. Arabian manuscript which I have long desired to see, and Around lay a wide plain, bright with the evening sun, before he returns---for the dame, if I guess rightly, lends and burdened with growing corn, unparted by lane or no very indulgent ear to him-our business will be done. hedgerow. In the midst lay the low roofs and tall church | Haste, then, and carry this ring to the young Breton, spire of the village of St Quintin, and over all rose the wherever thou canst find bim, as a token that the owner aneient castle, with keep, and turret, and battlement, and desires to speak with him on important matters affecting a far wilderness of dark spreading woods beyond, where the peace of his only daughter. Say that the heiress is a broad river swept on throngh shade and sunshine to I dying for love of his fair face, and bid him lose no time; the sea; and low, almost at the stranger's feet, lay the for as he is a stranger in the village, he may not know village green, with its loud and rustic merriment. His that De Claroville is childless, and it will be a noble glance ranged for an instant over its gay groups, and trial of both the minstrel's truth and the lord's temper. then catching sight of Count Fitzhubert and his partner, Yet, by my honour, it shall not go too hard with the he darted from the friar, who evidently wished to detain Breton ; for I remember well, when disarmed and unhim, and bounded, harp in hand, to the very midst of horsed in that unlueky encounter with the troops of the green, just as the count was conducting Claire to a Guise in Gascony, how the youth spared my life when seat of the smooth green turf, with many a fair and flat he might have taken it; though he knew not then the tering speech, that better befitted a court ball-room than chance would have been the making of his fortune, as it a village dance.

shall. But for the fête of our lady, I must have the Fitzhubert had by this time grown warm on the sub jest. Now go, Jaspar." ject, and attempted to raise her small snowy hand in Away flew the page swifter than his steps might have knightly fashion to his lips, but it was hastily withdrawn, been on a better errand, and as Count Raymond, with and the young girl's look grew severe, and something of his lady and guests, were seated in the banquet-hall and rebuke was in her tone, as she said “Nay, nay, my lord; their morning repast just finished, the young Breton a peasant maiden's hand may not receive the homage of minstrel, with his faithful harp, bowed before the noble lips on which the high and nobly born have a stronger company, and presented Raymond with his signet ring. claim." The count looked up in surprise, and caught the “Thanks; but where found you this?" cried De Clarodark jealous eye of his lady gazing upon him from the ville in surprise. The young Breton looked confused for pavilion, and at the same moment the hand refused to a moment, and then answered boldly, “My lord, it was him was clasped in that of the young Breton minstrel | given me by your own page, with a message that your with a glad but quiet greeting. Fitzhubert muttered lordship desired to speak with me in private on matters something about the queen and unlucky stars, but Claire affecting the peace of your only daughter." heard it not; she had no ear but for the minstrel. A “Knave," thundered the count; "thou liest ; I never few low whispered words passed between them, and the sent sueh a message." Breton cast a fierce look on the count, who thought he “Count Raymond de Claroville,” said the Breton, had seen his face before, as the stranger evidently recog- stepping back, and half drawing a bright rapier from benised him.

neath his garment, “ if I have come to your hall unsent “ Favour me with your name, young minstrel," said he, for, it is because I have been deceived ; and were the " for methinks we have met ere this, though I cannot tale true whieh was told me by the varlet, whom, with remember where."

God's help, I will chastise as soon as I can find him, I “My name is Gaston de Marmont," said the Breton, tell the Count Raymond that the heiress of all thy broad " and we met before in the woods of Gascony, when your lands would be of small account in mine eyes compared lordship had other work than the present on your hands. with a maiden who had no, portion, and none to call But come, Claire, let us join the dance."

father.” And before Fitzhubert could interpose a word, the pair “An heiress ! an heiress !” shouted Lord Raymond, were gone, and for that evening, and perhaps for ever,who told thee I had an heiress ? Man, I have no the count felt he was done with Claire ; yet he lingered a child,” he added in a lower tone. “But who is the moment to mark how joyously the young girl moved maiden of whom thou speakest ? " beside her humble partner, and then, with a long low “Her name is Claire, Claire of Normandy they called sigh, the count turned his steps to the pavilion, for he her in Provence, where I first saw the light of her smile, was not the man to intrude his attentions where they and Claire of Provence they call her here. To me she were unwillingly received.

hath no other name, and I have nothing to offer her but It was the day which the wisdom of our ancestors con- 'a fallen though a once noble one, besides my heart, and


harp, and sword-all of which are at her service. And amined the trinket, and admired the beauty of the work. now, count, farewell; and, noble company, forgive this manship and still lovelier hair of which it was made ; unwilling intrusion."

but Lord Raymond's eye was fixed upon his lady-her “Stay, stay,” said Lord Raymond, in whose face some calm stern countenance seemed working with deep and strange emotion seemed struggling; “excuse my haste, violent emotion, which she in vain endeavoured to supyoung minstrel, and tell me who art thou?”

press, ever since the young Breton entered the hall; but “My name is Gaston de Marmont," said the youth: when she caught sight of the bracelet, the countess started “my father was a noble Breton; but the stain of trea- from her seat, and rushing wildly to the minstrel, clasped son and forfeiture lies on his name and lands. Il betide him in her arms, exclaiming, “My son, my son! pardon the cruel laws and iyrant king that condemned him. I thy mother; that in her accursed pride she dared to defy am his only son, brought up by a good uncle, who, being the voice of nature, and leave thee thas long unclaimed, a friar himself, would make a monk of me; but, in good even when thine every glance and tone brought back sooth, I prefer the harp to the cowl, and the sword to the upon her soul the first, and oh, my child, the last love of rosary; and have foresworn the church, at least till my her unblest years." youth is over, for a maiden's smiles; and the holy friar. The company sat astonished at this unexpected scene; having nothing better to do, haunts me from place to but Lord Raymond, suddenly rising, took the countess place like a shadow: in proof of my words, noble count, by the hand, and said, “Eveline, why hast thou not see, here he comes." As the minstrel spoke, the same told me this? How many years of concealment and old friar, in the garb of a mendicant order, who had come regret it might have saved us both; for I, Eveline, I with him to the village, entered the hall, and, with a also have a daughter, the cherished child of my cousin, slight obeisance to the company, walked directly up to Ambrosine de Lavelle. We have been long strangers, Count Fitzhubert, who sat an amused and deeply inte- henceforth let us be friends, Eveline. It was not my rested spectator of the scene. The friar fixed upon him hand that shed thy Breton's blood, but a false vassal, a keen and earnest eye, whose cold clear light years who fired upon him from behind. Now, thy son shall had no power to dim, and then, in a low but distinct be my son, and my daughter-Oh, young man, she is tone, said, “Count Fitzhubert, since such is the name Claire of Provence.” thou hast chosen now, rememberest thou who passed “We shall have a wedding," cried Count Fitzhubert; with thee through the vaulted passage beneath the royalby my knighthood but we shall; but I have yet a word palace, to hear the last words of the dying King Charles, to speak with thee," said he, turning to young Gaston, and tempt the power of Catherine de Medicis ? ” Fitz- who still hung upon his mother's neck. Kneel, young hubert started, and a crowd of dark old memories passed man; it is Henri Quatre who commands thee." The across his brow, as he said, “Yes, good father, I remem youth mechanically obeyed, and the king—for it was ber it well: and art thou, then, De Marmont?"

indeed the long remembered Henri-struck him slightly “The same," said the friar," and the brother of the with the sword of Navarre, exclaiming, “Rise, Sir Gaston Breton bandit for whose death your highness seemed 80 de Marmont, to inherit the land and honours of thy thankful, and for whose soul's sake, as well as that of my father's ancient race; nor shall we leave this place till a country, ruled over by heretics and traitors, I have taken goodly bridal hath united the lands of St Quintin and upon myself this holý garb and the vows of a perpetual Claroville for ever in the descendants of Gaston de Marpilgrim.”

mont and Claire of Provence. Also, it is our pleasure,” " But what wouldst thou with me?" said the count, added the king, as Gaston murmured his thanks," as we for the friar's last words seemed rather unpalatable. have some hand in the discoveries of this happy day,

"This only,” said the friar, “that, by the power given that, in commemoration of it, and to save the heralds thee, thou wouldst command this youth, whose soul I trouble, thine arms, Sir Gaston, shall henceforth be, Le would save from the sins of his sire, to enter into the Poisson d'Avril." service of the holy church, and become a monk of the STRANORLAR, April 1846. order of St Francis; and be assured the deed will forward thy interest with the see of Rome." The count's look grew thoughtful, and he turned to the

GLACIERS. friar, saying, “ What says the youth himself ?”

A GLACIER may be compared to an icicle depending "That I am not a monk, my lord, and will never be, from the snow-covered roof of a cottage, which grafor all the counts in Normandy, nor Henry of Navarre

dually becoming thawed by the sun's heat, conveys himself, if he should command it, with the Pope and all

the water of the melted snow in a trickling stream the friars of St Francis in his favour; of which there seems little chance, for our holy father in Rome hath

to the ground below. In those high mountains little love to a turncoat Huguenot."

which extend beyond the line of perpetual congela“Thou art a bold knave,” said Count Fitzhubert, tion, a considerable part of their summits are covered laughing; for the frankness of the youth seemed to have with snow during the whole year. The glacier comwon his good-will; " but I owe thee a service, and since mences at the base of this snow-line, and extends thou art nobly born, methinks a sword and helmet would downwards somewhat like the icicle we have just suit thy spirit better than either cap or cowl."

compared it to, occupying the hollow ravines on the “Thou wilt not grant my request, then ?” said the sides of the mountain, and extending into the valleys, friar sternly, as he turned to go

sometimes from 1000 to 2000 feet from the situation “Stay," said Count Fitzhubert; is the young man

of the snow-line. well descended on both father and mother's side?” The

The upper part of the glacier friar vouchsafed no answer, and had already passed from

consists of a mass of consolidated and partially-meltthe hall.

ed snow, which is called by the French névé, or firn “Noble count," said the Breton, since thou hast such

by the German Swiss. Between this mass and the an interest in my pedigree, of my mother I can tell thee | true glacier there is often interposed a precipice. nothing, save that the good friar told me that I was born over which the snow is, as it were, shot, and below in lawful but secret wedlock, and she was a lady of high this the real glacier commences. The glacier con, birth ; but I never knew her name, for he said the secret sists of a vast mass of half-melted ice, which is slowly would embroil some of the noblest families in the pro-propelled along the whole length of the ravine until vince: and the only memorial I have of that unknown

| it comes to the plain, where, from its foot, a stream mother is this bracelet, which she once bestowed as a love gift on my father, and his dying commands obliged

of water issues. Along the whole length of the gla

cier there are a series of clefts or cracks, crossing the friar to surrender it to me as soon as I had reached fifteen, and I have kept it long, but found no owner.”

o the length of the mass in a waving manner, As he spoke, the young Breton placed in the hand of the assuming a curve forwards in the centre of the mass. count a bracelet of woven hair, with bright large pearls but, towards the edges, running more parallel. These shining through its glossy blackness. Fitzhubert ex- I waving fissures indicate the onward motion of the

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