Two days were passed by the Prior, subsequent to his rencounter in the forest, in retirement at home, nor had he once wandered forth, as was usual with him to do, in search of amusement. The third day was the anniversary of Saint Mary, to whom the priory was dedicated, and it was ushered in by the inmates of Ulvescroft with the usual solemnity. As the duties of the occasion were numerous, they engrossed the whole attention of the Superior. His heart was tranquil, his brow was serene, and he thought only on the various religious ceremonies of the day. But a different scene awaited him.

It was nearly noon, and the Prior, somewhat wearied by his exertions, was crossing the outer court from the chapel, for the purpose of enjoying a short interval of repose in his private chamber, when his observation was attracted by a large party of menials, belonging to the establishment, in deep and confused altercation. Their eager looks and loud hurried tones betokened that something more than usual had happened. Whatton, vexed that any thing like tumult should interrupt the tranquillity of the festival, advanced hastily

towards them.

"Whence this commotion,brethren? It suits not with the sacred duties we

have been engaged in, and surely might have been spared this day."

The men looked at each other; they hesitated, for they were well acquainted with the rigidity of their Superior, as respected religious observances, and feared to incur his displeasure; but the case was urgent, and it was necessary he should be informed of it. At length one of them, older and somewhat more elevated in situation than the others, advanced towards him; he laid one hand reverently upon his breast, and with the other made the usual sign of the cross.

"Think not, holy Father, that our minds are evil in the midst of thankfulness! or that we would offer any disrespect at the foot of that shrine to which we all yield obedience:

but"

"Declare your meaning!" said Whatton, not without some apprehension of what was to be related.

"The forest! reverend Sir, our rights are trampled on, your power contemned, even the walls of the priory have not in this instance been respected, nor have they afforded safety to the animals that browse beneath them."

"The forest!" The Prior started, the words of the unknown rushed to his remembrance. "Hath any one dared?-But, no. Youth may vaunt itself, but it cannot accomplish much." He recollected the prowess he had already witnessed, and was half disposed to recall what he had uttered: he turned to the monk, "Well, Bernard, what mischief is this that hath happened?"

"Three goodly bucks already lie slaughtered beneath the very walls of the priory, and three more, for aught I know."

66

Stop, stop," said the Prior, in a voice tremulous with agitation :

"Who hath done this deed ?"

"We know not; it seemed almost the work of magic, so swiftly, so silently whizzed the arrows from amidst the copse. But the hand that drew them has hitherto eluded our search, no one was to be seen."

"A plague on that young imp," said Whatton, stamping his foot furiously on the ground; 66 none less daring than himself would so have defied me. Run, Bernard; William, run. Search well each covert, thicket, fern. See you leave no spot unsought; and, mark me, Sirs, find whom you will, bring them straight before me."

The Prior turned to his chamber as he spoke, but it was in no enviable frame of mind: for some time he paced to and fro, with the rapid uneven tread of one who is uncertain how to act; so angry did he feel at being made the sport of so young a stripling.

The brethren, in the mean time, had sped the best of their way into the intricacies of the forest, not a whit less anxious than their Superior to discover who was the perpetrator of

The conjectures of the Prior had not been wrong. The same fair boy stood before him with this only difference in his appearance, that the light fantastic habit, he had worn on their former rencounter, had been exchanged for a suit of simple green, skirted by a coat or jacket, that buttoned closely around him, and, descending nearly as low as the knee, hid his figure almost entirely from observance. His cap, too, that had previously glittered with the brilliant rays of the diamond and the ruby, and had been adorned with partycoloured plumes, now bore but one long sable feather, which, falling gracefully over the left temple, did but set off the clearness of a complexion for which nature and exercise had done much.

In sooth, if the Prior had thought the lad handsome at their first interview, spite of his indignation he could not now alter his opinion, so exquisitely beautiful did he appear. He seemed to take but little notice of the Superior as he approached him; his arms were pinioned, and his looks almost wholly bent upon the ground; but there lurked so deep an expression of archness in them, when they turned at intervals upon Whatton, that he knew not what to think.

He looked steadfastly at him, but the dark orbs of the lad avoided his gaze. He seemed to delight in sidelong glances, and appeared capable of using them as much to the purpose as the bolts he had so wantonly let fly from his bow. Determined, however, to trace the motives which had led to such extraordinary conduct to their most latent source, Whatton

"So, boy, thou hast really and truly had audacity enough to put thy wicked threat into execution:- -And what thinkest thou shall now be the reward of such wantonness ?"

The culprit answered not, but tossing back the plume, that had hitherto partially shaded one side of his features, with that kind of instinctive motion of the head that expresses more than words, he greeted the Prior with the same incomprehensible smile he had before bestowed upon him.

66

"I understand you," said Whatton; you bid defiance to my authority. But beware, silly urchin, your life, if we so will it, may be made answerable for the crime you have been guilty of this day."

"I deny not your authority, Prior; yet I would ask, and I believe you will not deny my right of doing so, how far such authority extends? or whether you take in the free born, as well as the hind-the noble as the peasant? When these questions are replied to, I, in my turn, may perhaps declare the punishment I look forward to."

"Thy tongue seems to keep pace with thy fingers, youth; but should I condescend to hold parley with thee, wilt thou promise to declare truly who, and what thou art, and whence thy wantonness hath arisen?"

"You will learn both, ere we part," said the boy significantly, "I promise that."

"Might I presume to interfere," said one of the brethren coming forward, and casting a look full of an ger and inveteracy upon the fairheaded offender, "such conduct deserves no common punishment, since this stripling hath learnt his trade too perfectly and too early hope for nmendment from your w

"Enough, enough, perior, addressing him monk, and without noticing

tions of his prisoner. "Where is the weapon with which this mischief has been perpetrated ?"

"Here, Father, here." "Whatton took the youth's bow from the hands of the monk who tendered it-he examined it minutely; it was formed from the maple wood, and was of excellent workmanship, having the figure of a stag in the attitude of fleeing, with an arrow in front, beautifully carved in its centre. Underneath the animal was written in small silver letters

Isabel of Hastings.

The friar started. He passed his eye from the weapon to the face of its owner; the transition and the expression it conveyed had not passed unnoticed, and the rising colour upon her cheek proclaimed that his surmise was not ill founded. It was, indeed, the daughter of his proud neighbour-of his foe, that then stood before him! who in the gaiety and frolicsomeness of youth had played this trick upon him. And Whatton, uncertain what to say, or how to proceed, stood confusedly silent, gazing upon her. Isabel, certain that all must now be discovered, signified her wish to be alone with him, and the Prior immediately complied with her request. The brethren were ordered to withdraw, and, having unloosed the noose that fettered her arms, Whatton again retired to some distance from her.

For a short interval Isabel remained as silent as the Prior-she seemed indeed communing with herself; but, though her cheeks continued to retain their deep suffusion, her eye lost not a whit of its archness, as at length

she said:

"Well, my Lord of Ulvescroft, are you satisfied that, whether in the light of friends or enemies, the owners of Witwicke are punctual to their promise ?"

"Such punctuality was never doubt ed, noble damsel, yet methinks the fair Isabel might have found fitter employment than to have taken part in the feuds of her father. And surely my Lord of Hastings, had he wished to do another ill turn to those

who meddle not with him, might have found an abler hand than one so truly formed for gentleness."

"Say not so, good Father," said the lady, not ill pleased with the termination of the Prior's speech, "contemn not the abilities of Isabel in the cross-bow, nor in the field. It is the pride of Hastings to think his child excels in them. Nay, Prior, have not you yourself commended them ?" "True, lady, but-"

"Holy Father-use an adversary generously, and he were indeed a dastard, did he not follow the example. What motive, think you, guided my feet thither, or nerved my arm, so near your dwelling?"

The Prior bent his head; he was unwilling to declare to Isabel that he believed her actions under the sanction of a higher power: he was also above a subterfuge. Isabel was not slow in comprehension.

"I know what you would say. It so boldly to your gate ?" was by my father's orders that I came

Whatton bowed an affirmative. of Witwicke is no man's enemy. He "Listen, good Father. The Lord is not ignorant of your virtues, estranged as he is at this moment from you. He is above the base act of mean destruction. That I, his daughter, have drawn the bow, I admit ; but not as you charge me with, through wantonness. I know my father's sentiments toward you; I know he seeks an opportunity to be reconciled; and I shall be deceived if I have not formed a correct estimate of your generosity. Father, the evil I have done you shall be repaired, amply repaired. But I beseech you to let all animosity cease betwixt the Lord Hastings and yourself."

she bent one knee to the ground, As she pronounced the last words, crossed her hands submissively upon her bosom, and looked earnestly at the Prior. She was no longer the fiery frolicsome youth whose eye spoke daringly, whose lips breathed the interesting woman, kneeling be contemptuously-she was the gentle, fore her spiritual adviser, imploring the blessing of peace and amity for a beloved parent!

It was impossible for so kindly a heart as Whatton possessed to withstand the appeal of Isabel, couched as it was in so extraordinary a manner; her grace, her beauty, her spirit, but above all, the energetic language of those eyes, that so recently had had sufficient influence to stir up the wrathful emotions of the heart, now pleading forcibly to the milder pas

sions.

"Rise, noble girl!" he exclaimed, "The Prior of Ulvescroft must not be outdone in generosity-he needs no reminding of his duty! Rise, Isabel, and be it as you wish-it were impossible to withstand you. Should, therefore, the Lord of Witwicke really seek a reconciliation—”

Isabel rose joyously.

"I hie me homewards, Prior; in less than three hours I will undertake to greet my Lord Hastings and yourself as friends; and, mark me, Sir, five goodly bucks for one; that is Isabel's penance for the crime so wantonly committed this day-committed in the cause of duty."

She smiled gaily as she spoke. "Thou art most extraordinarily gifted, daughter; yet one thing I would know, ere thy departure."

"Say on, Father."

"Was it necessary, in order to accomplish the reunion of hearts, that three unoffending animals should be the sacrifice?"

"All was necessary. When the wound is deep, deep must be the

cure.

The Prior of Ulvescroft wa no common foe, and it needed all the art, all the stratagem of Isabel to convince him, aggrieved as he believed himself to be, that Witwicke's Lord still deserved his esteem.”

"And his child," said the Prior"Was anxious to show, that she also longed to share the friendship of Whatton !"

"And she has gained it," said the friar, placing his hand gently upon her head, and blessing her. 66 Go, get thee gone, fair daughter, and bring thy father as early as thou wilt, for Whatton longs to greet him."

Isabel stayed not for farther permission, but, again crossing her hands reverently upon her bosom, she bowed respectfully to the Prior, and set forward with a light heart and foot towards the mansion of her sire. True to her promise, three hours did not elapse, before the Lord of Hastings himself, attended by Isabel in her own proper habiliments, and a numerous retinue, rode up to the gates of Ulvescroft, for the purpose of ratifying those engagements of amity and good neighbourhood she had already so ably commenced. The Lord of Witwicke brought with him several costly presents for the Prior, amongst which, were the deer promised by his daughter; and, what was more valuable to Whatton, with her own hand, Isabel presented him with the bow that had been the cause of so much mischief.

OU

CARBON BORON.

UR next subject is CARBON. The chief form in which it is obtained in any purity are, the diamond and charcoal. So wonderful are the dispensations of Nature,-taking nature (to quote our beautiful poet) as the name for an effect, whose cause is God, that perhaps there is no body which we should have thought at first sight less like that beautiful gem the diamond, than the opaque black substance which we call charcoal. The 5 ATHENEUM VOL. 2. new series.

wood red hot, for some time, in a closed vessel. By this method all the sap, oil, and other vegetable parts are consumed, and the basis of the wood, or the carbon, is left. Lamp black however is the purest form of charcoal; it is obtained chiefly from turpentine and resin, but all oils produce it more or less. Charcoal has several curious powers. Thus, it destroys the taste and smell of several vegetable and animal substances. On this depends its power of making turbid water not only clear but wholesome. A gentleman who had been long in India told me, that, while travelling there, he was kept from a severe indisposition by using charcoal in this way. He took a little in a powdered state, and let it remain all night in the water before he drank it. All the others who used no such precaution were the next day attacked with illness in consequence, while he was perfectly well.

Carbon unites with oxygen in two proportions, forming carbonic acid gas. Carbonic oxide contains no hydrogen, as may be shown by burning it in 'oxygen, when no water is produced,

If carbon be burned in pure oxygen, an acid gas called carbonic acid gas is the result. This gas has many distinguishing features, and it was by means of this product of carbon and oxygen that the chemical identity of charcoal and the diamond was first discovered. Diamonds were burned by a lens as early as 1694; in 1772 the product of this combustion was first examined; and in 1809 it was ascertained that when the diamond was burned in oxygen, pure carbonic acid was the result. This of course led to the conclusion that the diamond and charcoal must have the same chemical nature, though their particles are differently mechanically arranged. A very complete apparatus has been contrived for demonstrating this product of the burning of the diamond in oxygen, but as none of our readers will be very likely to try so expensive an experiment, we will not enter into the detail.

Carbonic acid is found combined with many natural products. All the

calcareous earths, such as lime and magnesia, when exposed to the atmosphere readily combine with it. They then become carbonates. Thus chalk is formed, which is a compound of carbonic acid and lime.

But it is not only in composition that carbonic acid is found in nature. It exists in a separate state, but being of much greater specific gravity than atmospheric air, is only found in low places. It forms the choak damp of miners, and is not unfrequently perceived in wells. It is quite unrespirable, producing instant death if an attempt be made to inhale it. It is found in vats where any liquors are fermenting, and is the cause why many people have been killed, while this process has been taking place in confined situations. That its specific gravity is much greater than that of atmospheric air may be readily shown: for if it be put into any vessel with a stop-cock, it may be poured out like water. To illustrate this, place a taper at the bottom of a large jug: though no passage of any thing is visible to the eye, the taper is immediately extinguished.*

We will now proceed to examine the compounds formed by carbonic acid and other bodies. It forms a salt (Carbonate of Ammonia) when united with the volatile alkali called Ammonia. This salt is of considerable use in medicine.-Carbon unites in two proportions with chlorine, but neither of the compounds have yet been made of any use in the arts.Carbon and hydrogen unite in equal quantities, forming carburetted hydrogen. This gas, when required pure for chemical purposes, is obtained by distilling over a lamp, one part of alcohol and four of sulphuric acid: it is highly inflammable. The gas now used as a substitute for oil, consists chiefly of this carburetted hydrogen mixed with some foreign ingredients. It is obtained from coal which is burnt in a closed vessel. All the gas, impure at first, is conveyed away by an iron pipe to a

* Before we quit carbonic acid, we should state that a discovery is recently said to have been made, by which carbonic acid, when greatly condensed, can be procured in a liquid state.