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His face was marked, not disfigured, by a scarcely- | have said, that I have no children, I have determined healed scar that he had brought back with him from the to leave my estates in your hands, if you will undertake mysterious expedition we have mentioned. He was the charge, until I either settle down in the new countall, and straight, though his stout, well-formed limbs try, as is most probable, or return to England. I will took away slightly from his height.

not insult you, old friend, by offering to pay you Very different was the figure that now entered the as a steward, but do you live on the income of the proroom. Roger Crane, although of the same age as perty as it falls in. Bring up your wife and youngster, Cyril, seemed twenty years his senior. His figure was and live here. By my soul, the old house wants some bowed with long study, and deep furrows and lines, piety to air it, for it has been the scene of roystering arising from the same cause, did not add beauty to a and mirth these many long years. Well, what say you face that in itself was not pleasant. His hair was Roger? Will you undertake the trouble on these conalready grizzled, and his figure was lean and spare. At ditions ?" his knee toddled a little girl of about five years of age-- “In sooth, Cyril Burnley," answered Roger, “sith his daughter—for Roger was married, and though folks you wish it to be—though I like not the thought of said he was a cruel husband, and a hard lawyer, it being an hireling." would have been difficult to have found a more kind " Pish, man,” interrupted the Cavalier; “I do not and loving father.

ask thee to do so, but I had rather an old friend lived Putting the child on a chair, whence she could look in my father's house, than a stranger or a steward, who out of the window down a long avenue of elms, where would defraud me of the moneys that I offer you as a the little grey rabbits' kept darting about from among gift. So no more words to the bargain. If you will the ferns on either side of the drive, Roger seated him- get ready your chattels, the house shall be vacant self in an arm-chair, and waited for Cyril to speak. to-morrow at sunset."

Cyril was striding up and down with a sort of des- So saying, Cyril shook Orane by the hand, who, seoperate air, whistling the tune of one of his favorite ing that the other seemed to wish to say no more on songs, the first verse of which ran as follows:

the subject, did not oppose him longer. The Cavalier,

having called together his servants, told them that he The stars were winking in the sky, And the moon went dancing along,

was about to set out for a far country, and amply paid When we fell on the Roundhead's rebel camp,

them their wages, thanking them for their good serFull fifteen hundred strong.

vices. There was many a moist eye among them, for Come carol us a carol oh !*

rough and hot-headed though he was, there never The Roundheads to the devil go,

breathed a kinder or better master. So the domestics And God save our good King !

packed up their baggage, and departed to their homes. Suddenly recollecting that perhaps Crane might not The next day, Cyril and the Counsellor were walking relish the ditty, he stopped short, threw himself into a up and down the avenue in deep conversation. Cyril chair, and filling a glass of claret, tossed it off, and now spoke more freely, and, the first plunge taken, began business.

seemed able to think and act more freely. Roger, old friend, I've made up my mind to leave

“ There is much to be feared, mind you,” said Roger; the old country. Odis fish, man! do you think that " 'tis marvellous unhealthy, this same America they after swearing fealty to our good King James-whom tell me, where there be numbers of savage beasts, God restore to his throne say I-I can turn about, besides savage men, of which there be tribes, and weather-cock fashion, and bow down to a fat Dutch exceeding fierce, too, for did they not kill my worthy herring. Pshaw !” he continued, as he saw that Crane uncle Joash Wax-confident-in-bonds, who went forth was about to protest against this abuse of William of among them to preach the Gospel." Orange; " I do not often run a-tilt at your prejudices, “A man must die somewhere, and at some time,” but I must have my say out now, and you must e'en said Cyril, “and the bare idea of danger gives a smack be:r with me this once, for you may never see me to life, like the lemons in a rousing bowl of punch; again. While I was staying in London, I fell in with besides, too, if I like it not, I shall return, and if aught the wortlıy Penn, and have made up my mind to set brings me back, why I shall know where to find you, out for his settlement, that he has named after him- and will relieve you of the cares of the stewardPennsylvania. Now seeing, Roger, that I have neither ship.” chit nor child, I bethought me of the old friendship of “But you may never return, Cyril Burnley." our fainilies: and, albeit, since we left Oxford you have “Well, if I do not, then you may have the lands, and seldom come up liere, still I have much friendship for welcome, for of all the world I shall then want barely my old college friend, and respect your scruples, though six feet of earth, and I may not want even that if I be odd's life! I cannot see iniquity in cracking a joke, or a eaten by the savages, which, they tell me, be mighty bottle of claret, or sin in singing a roaring song. But eaters of human flesh.” let that pass, old friend, we have all our hobbies. So So, with a laugh, Cyril strapped the little valise now to tell you why I required to see you. Seeing, as I (containing the money he intended to take with him),

to the saddle-bow of his horse, which was just led out * The inscriptions on the coing of Charles the Second, " Carolus a from the stable. Flinging himself on its back, he shook (arolo."

Roger warmly by the hand, and rode off at full speed,

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followed by a servant leading the horse that bore the When he reached London, Cyril left his little son in rost of his baggage.

the care of the innkeeper's wife, and travelled with all Cyril did not turn back for a last glance—he could speed to Burnley. It was a hot summer's day, and not trust himself to look again on his ancestral home. Roger Crane was seated at the open library window, If he had turned he would have seen little, for in spite watching his two girls tending the flowers on the of his forced gaiety, there was a dimness before his lawn; for the ferns on either side of the avenue were eyes that might almost have been called tears.

gone, and with them the timid rabbits that used to flit Without any adventure, Cyril reached London, and among them. It was now a trim lawn, dotted over there embarked on board the John Key, a ship called with quaintly-shaped beds filled with gorgeous flowers. after the first child born at the settlement of Philadel- Suddenly a figure sprang in at the window, and phia, who died, in 1767, an old man of eighty-five, hav- before Crane could distinguish who it was, his hand ing gone all his life by the name of First Born.

was seized in a firm grasp, and a voice that he knew After a long and tedious voyage, the vessel at length only too well, altered though it was, exclaimed: reached the Delaware, and sailing up, dropped anchor “God bless you, Roger! God bless you! it is a comoff the rising colony of Philadelphia. Here Cyril fort to see an old well-known face again. Odslife, but landed, and here we will leave him.

you're little changed with all these long years. Art The old Puritan settled down at Burnley Manor, and tired of the stewardship? I have come to relieve you, brought his child to dwell there and the house became for I have lost every farthing I had in that infernal old 80 familiar to him, that he looked upon it as his own, psalm-singing settlement, so I have come back to end and forgot all about Cyril Burnley.

my days in peace in the home of my childhood. But you shall not budge, man, there's room enough for us all, and your wife must be a mother to my boy, for I've

been married, old friend, since I saw you last," and CHAPTER II.

here his voice began to falter : “poor heart, she was a Years passed by, and Roger, perhaps too readily good woman, God bless her. But, by my soul, Roger!" believing Cyril to be dead, began to act as Lord of the he exclaimed, observing the cold look of astonishment Manor, altering and improving, selling, buying and with which Crane regarded him, “don't you remember exchanging at his own pleasure. While this was going me? Cyril, Cyril Burnley! your old friendl surely on, poor Penn had been brought into disgrace by you've not forgotten ?" the false accusations of Fuller, and after years of neglect "In good sooth, no, my good man," said Crane, “ I was only just reinstated in the king's favor and restored cannot have forgotten you in that I never knew you. to his government. In the meantime, Cyril had found and let me tell you that if you think to act Cyril Burnout how sadly he erred in coming to the settlement. He ley, you will not find me very ready of belief.” had bought a farm, which he did not know how to Burnley stood aghast. At first he thonght Crane inanage, and which, after a struggle of many long years, was joking, but there was that in his tone which he was obliged to give up, broken in health and fortunes. showed him to be in earnest. At length he found

During the first year after his arrival at Philadelphia, words to speak. he began to discover that the customs of the rigidly “Roger Orane, for Heaven's sake don't jest with me!" simple and often fanatic inhabitants—for the most part “Jest! sirrah! I advise you to beware how you carry men who for religious reasons had sought a new home your jest farther. If you do not get hence I will soon -were little calculated to suit a roystering cavalier; so make you." after vainly seeking for companions after his own heart, The truth began to dawn upon Cyril; he pressed him he took unto himself a wife, the daughter of a worthy again and again, until at length Crane exclaimedold Dutchman, who parted with her for the slight con- “You must produce your papers.

Doubtless you sideration of a hogshead of tobacco. She, however, did will find many living who will recognize in you the not survive these nuptials many years.

fine, hearty, roystering Burnley, of Burnley." For some years before her death the farm had been “Heartless wretch!” exclaimed Cyril. “Now I can going fast to rack, so at last the Cavalier, with a sigh, see your cold-blooded villainy; you know as God is turned his back upon the settlement, and set out with judge between us, that I trusted my lands to you, as I an only son for England.

would to my mother's son. I know that friendless and Few would have recognized in him the fine hearty penniless as I am, I have no hope left. You may rob man who came there from the Old World. Indeed, one the son of your father's preserver of his birthright, oor two of the inhabitants confided as much to each but mark me, your ill-got riches shall not prosper other, as they watched him going off to the ship, as the you!" vessel unfolded her white wings, and rounded the He was gone; but before his shadow had passed from woody Cape. Poor Cyril! his hair was grey, and, the room, Roger Crane had fallen senseless to the in contrast to his face, tanned by exposure to the sun, ground: whether it was the excitement or the terror seemed almost white. His limbs were shrunk and of that interview, or whether it was a direct punishwasted, and he had lost his former erect carriage in a ment from Heaven, no one can tell ; but from that hour fever through which the homely, affectionate little Dutch one half of his body, from the crown of his head to the woman bad nursed him with unceasing care.

sole of his foot, was dead-paralyzed.

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Cyril went to London, and, embarking with his like all other good fellowshe assured him that his young son, he sought a home in Holland among his daughters were “as pretty lasses as you might see wife's kindred; and it was there on his death-bed, some within fifty miles;” that the old fellow was a great woryears after, that he imparted to his son the facts that shipper of King William the Third; and that he drove our readers are already acquainted with.

away all the “goodly youths that went a courting the This son, Hugh, grew up into a tine youth, and two sisters by his crabbed ungainly ways." obtained a commission in one of the Dutch regiments, This and a thousand other things the host told his where he passed by the name of Börnhagh. The thought guest, though somewhat indistinct occasionally. Hugh struck him that in Captain Börnhagl, the young Dutch sat up late that night, revolving plans of attack: first officer, few people would recognize the son of Cyril one and then another was adopted and thrown aside Burnley, of Burnley ; so with all the romance of youth until he fixed upon one that pleased him. The next he determined to visit the place that should have been morning Crane was called out to meet a visitor, and his own, and try to recover the estates which his father, leaning on the arm of Lilias, his youngest daughter, he worn out by long troubles and age, had too easily crawled into his consultation room. As they entered, despaired of recovering.

the stranger made a low bow to Lilias, in which his For a long time atter Cyril's departure, Crane had eyes certainly did the best to let her understand the been fearful lest he should strive to recover his estates, impression she had made upon him; nor did they fail

, or perhaps, attempt to take personal vengeance. Con- if we are to believe the little fluttering blush that her science was not still, and the worm that never dies was cheeks hung out as an answering signal, as she left the not asleep, and the old man, as he went trailing one room after returning Hugh's greeting with no small half of his body a dead weight about with him, would trepidation. often curse himself and his fate, and long for death to As soon as she was gone, Hugh announced himself as release him from his sufferings.

“ Captain Börnhagh.” At the sound of his voice, the His only delight was in his daughters; the younger, old man bent eagerly forward in his chair, his bony a fair, delicate-looking girl, quiet and meek, yet, as she hands grasping the arms tightly, and his eye-balls glarproved afterwards, not without a little of her father's ing terribly. Speak again,” he murmured trembling, determined spirit, when roused. The elder was a dark surely my ears deceive me. Quick! speak! I think I beauty, but her features bore an unpleasant resemblance know that voice!” Hugh repeated his name more to her father, as, indeed, did her character, for she was clearly, adding the reason of his visit-an imaginary proud, and fierce, and unflinching, and if she was not case of some intricacy. The old man grew calm, giving wicked, like him, it was only because she had had no op- his advice here and there, as the narration proceeded, portunity of being so. As time wore on, blindness was with great shrewdness. added to old Crane's other afflictions, and then his Hugh managed very cleverly in the course of his condaughters became his only solace. They read to him, versation to let fall, as if by accident, that he was sang to him, and played to him, and became so neces- a Dutchman, and a favored protégé of the king's. sary to his existence that the selfish old man would Crane took the bait readily, became very civil, and takhardly suffer them to go out of his hearing, and drove ing great interest in his case, invited the young man to away, by increasing churlishness, the suitors who had partake of some refreshment. In a word, Hugh had come to seek them in marriage.

opened the campaign successfully, and from that day became a frequent visitor.

He followed up the advantages he had obtained, and CHAPTER III.

in no long time made himself master of Lilias' heart.

It was not until they had made their mutual confession WHEN Hugh Börnhagh arrived at Burnley, he took of love that the lovers began to think how their attachap his quarters at the village inn--the “ Cup and ment could be brotight to a happy issue. Capon," as the signboard gave out--and having ordered Taking the Counsellor aside one evening, Hugh said, a good bowl of punch, he cleverly opened the campaign My good sir, I'll give twenty gold pieces to the man by inviting his host to partake of it with him. Hugh who will solve for me a knotty point that entirely was sufficiently well versed in the tricks of the mess- baffles my sagacity. Will you assist me in unraveltable to ply his host, without seeming to hang back ling it?" himself, and at length, when the genial liquor began to “Gold pieces are not so plenty now-a-days,” said take effect, and the victim became talkative and com-Crane, “ that I should think of refusing twenty of them municative, he led him round to the subject of the for advice that it may not take me as many minutes to Counsellor, and got out of him all the information give you." he had to impart.

“Well, then, sir, the case is this: Before I came here Mine host's opinion of Crane was perhaps less compli- I was attached to young lady of good family; in fact, inentary, though assuredly not less candid than it would sir, as far as ourselves were concerned, we were have been, had he not seen so deep into the punch bowl. betrothed. I applied to her relatives for consent. I After informing Hugh that the Counsellor was “just have just received their refusal, and from what I can the queerest old fish that ever snored a psalın "—for the judge, and from knowing them to be Jacobites, I fear jolly host was at heart a real foe to the Roundheads, I that the king's favor, instead of assisting me, is the

cause of my rejection. The first idea that presented had left for him at his inn, in which he thanked the itself to me was to carry her off, but prudence reminded old lawyer for his excellent advice, “that," as the letter me that the young lady was not of age; in this per- said, “ he would see was not thrown away." plexity, therefore, I thought that perhaps your great skill might assist ine."

CHAPTER IV. “The thing's plain and easy enough,” said the Coun. sellor, "get the young lady to carry you off!”.

It would be folly to attempt to describe the Counsel“How do you mean?” inquired Hugh.

lor's rage when he saw how he had been outwitted. Why simply thus—Get your horse ready, strap a For several days he was so savage and surly that even pillion on in front. Let the young lady mount first, his eldest daughter did not dare go near him. After a and give you her hand to assist you to mount behind time, however, he grew calmer, and would even someher. This done, nothing remains but for her to ply times speak of Lilias, but he never uttered a word whip and spur and carry you off; and I defy all the about Hugh. But from the hour she left him, he began judges in the world to lay a finger on you.”

to break up rapidly, and before the year was quite out “Odslife, a most excellent plan!" cried Hugh, laugh- he was seized with a violent attack, which laid him on ing more at the idea of old Crane's outwitting himself a sick bed, and his life was then despaired of. For a than anything else; so he paid the twenty pieces with long time he lay raving and delirious, and from his lips out grudge, and bade the Counsellor “good night."

Bridget gleaned, during his paroxysms, the tale of When he left the house, instead of going down the crime which is already known to the reader. When, as avenue, he turned to the left, and keeping in the shadow he drew near his end, he became calmer and more senof the house, crept round quietly to the back. The sible, she questioned him about it, and he told her all. watch-dog came out of his kennel and shook and

At the first announcement of his illness his son-in-law stretched himself, but after reconnoitring, turned round hurried to the house, but no sooner had Hugh crossed and coiled himself up to sleep again; so it seems that it the threshold than, with a loud yell, he sat upright in was not the first time that Master Hugh had stopped the bed, stretching out his arms as if to keep him off, under the little casement, at which he now tapped screaming, “ Cyril! Cyril Burnley! Spectre or devillightly with a long sle er willow wand. At the first avaunt! Bridget, my child! protect mel drive him tap the window opened, and Lilias appeared, to whom hence! Oh, Heaven! mercy! mercy !" he explained the advice he had received.

He sunk back, his eyes closed, and in a monien i be To Lilias' credit be it said, that it was not until after was motionless-dead ! considerable persuasion, and when she saw that there Hugh came up to the bedside, and looked the dead was no other way left, that she consented to fly with man in the face, and said, turning to Bridget, “It is too Hugh; but her scruples once overcome, she was ready true-you see in me the son of Cyril Burnley, the map to adopt any plan he might suggest.

whom your father robbed of his birthright. I did not The next night found Hugh at the same place, but think to witness such a terrible scene. Heaven have this time, instead of a willow wand, it was a ladder that mercy on his soul ;” and with a shudder lie turned he drew out from among the shrubs.

away, and, mounting bis horse, set out homeward. Lilias opened the window, and stepping lightly down Gently he broke to his wife the news of her father's the ladder, found herself in her lover's arms. After death, and the story of his wrongs. Poor Lilias! She wasting a few precious moments in joyful whispers and had loved her father dearly, selfish and stern though he kisses that were perhaps too loud to be discreet, sbe was, and it was a sad blow to her to know that he was inounted the horse, which was waiting at the end of guilty of so heartless a crime. the avenue, and went through the farce of assisting After a time, she recovered her health and spirits, Hugh to mount behind her; for truth to tell, the only and her husband established his claim to the estates by use he made of the hand she offered him was to press it an arrangement with the elder sister, who was at first to his lips as he bounded lightly to his seat.

very loth to give up the property, but at last consented Before the next morning they were many miles when she found she had no means of proving her away; and almost as soon as he discovered the loss of father's title. In their new home Hugh and his loving his daughter, old Crane received a note which Hugh little wife lived long and happily together.


Near the mouth of a large river, is a ferry about a shocking vagrants—woe to all over whom he possessed mile across.

power! He was a magistrate; and in his hands the An old man arrived at the ferry-house one bleak day law gained nothing in loveliness. Without wife, within October, and knocked loudly for the ferryman. He out child, without friend, he stood alone in the world. wished to be conveyed over as quickly as possible.

To this landed aristocrat, on his summons, appeared This old man was a great landed proprietor in the the ferryman. neighborhood, and was universally feared and hated. He was a young man.

From his earliest years ho Woe to the tenant in arrear-woe to respectability had lived in the ferry-house, where his father had lived before him. It was a lonely part of the country, and The old man, the landed proprietor, is going to dun a passengers were not very numerous. The boat was tenant who owes him three quarters' rent. The last often idly moored; and this time the young ferryman harvest was very bad, and the tenant was laid up with employed in reading of that wonderful Civilization of a fever, and the cattle died, and altogether matters which he had seen so little; of nobles, mobs, million- went very crossly-which is the reason why the tenant aires, paupers-of manufacturing towns, where men are owes three quarters' rent. His landlord intends now the creatures and slaves of steam-of great cities, where to apply to him in person, and, if this last resource virtue and vice, wealth and poverty, knowledge and fail, to serve him with an ejectment at once. ignorance, happiness and misery, are mixed np in one The young man, the ferryman, is merely going to the preposterous and morbid mass. All this he read of, opposite shore and back again. He will demand sixand much thought of; and, having no “properly-dis- pence from each passenger, and will hasten home to posed ” person to undeceive him, he came to very his wife Kate, who is just about to broil a beefsteak strange conclusions concerning the state of the world, for dinner. and the existing notions of right and wrong. In parti- The boat dashed on. The rich proprietor sat buried cular, he acquired a habit of considering the tendency in thought, without speaking; the boatman was watchof every action to add to, or take away from, the suming the sails, rudder in hand; the boy was dipping his of human happiness; and this he judged rigidly, apart hand into the water, wetting the sleeve of his jacket, from all other considerations whatever. As he believed laughing and talking to the boatman. They had nearly the tendency of the action, so he approved, or dis- reached the shore. approved, of the actor. He was poor, as a philosopher Suddenly there came a blast of wind, so violent and should be, and had a pretty, loving young wife, as so unexpected, that before the sheet could possibly be a philosopher should have.

let go, the sail was overstrained, and in an instant the Just as the ferryman and his passenger were about to little boat was capsized. Passengers and boatman embark, a little boy ran up in great haste--for he was were thrown into the water, and left to struggle for in danger of being too late. His desire also was to be their lives. conveyed over.

The ferryman had been accustomed to the river from This boy was the son of a farmer near at hand. He infancy, and was an expert swimmer; he floated at his had a ruddy, careless countenance, and frank, fearless ease. The proprietor and the young farmer sank like

Meditation had not yet troubled him. He stones. was very happy himself; and for aught he knew, every The ferryman became then a judge of life and death. body else was happy too. He had heard of poor peo- His two passengers had been thrown in opposite direcple starving for hunger, and rich people dining off gold; | tions, far from each other and they had struggled hut had never seen either, and rather doubted it. He even farther. He feared that he could save but onehad been told of wicked men, who, if they escaped in and which should it be? this world, were sure to be punished in another; but Calmly and fairly he tested these two human beings they had never hurt him. He had a dim idea that ill. by his creed. The one more deserving of existence was ness was something painful; but he had been ill only he whose actions added more to, or took less from, the once, and that long, long ago. He liked books, and sum of human happiness: all other considerations must story-books most of all.

be set aside, and this alone must be the claim to preferThe rich proprietor and the farmer's son now stepped ence. The deliberation and the decision were the work into the boat. The boatman set the sails, and they of an instant: he swam towards the boy. stood over to the opposite shore. The wind was blow- He seized him as he rose for the second time to the ing freshly, and the water flew merrily from the surface. Then, by great strength and dexterity, he conprow.

trived to right the small, light boat; and in this he And now that these three are travelling, let me tell placed the boy. The unhappy, tyrannical landlord had what object has brought each into the ferry boat. disappeared for ever.

The boy, the farmer's son, is going to spend a week He perished, the "greatest " of three. Had he been at the house of a playfellow. He anticipates much de- good, instead of great, or not had a philosopher for a light from the visit. There is a large, smooth field, the boatman, he might have been saved; but he was sacrivery thing for cricket, or trap-ball, or anything of that ficed by a combination of circumstances. sort—and a capital pond to swim ships in—and a real So, after all, the boy went to see his playfellow; and painted target for bows and arrows—and “ Neptune " the young man went home to his wife Kate ; but the to go out with them walking. So if the week do not old man did not eject his tenant, and his body was pass pleasantly, it will be rather strange.

rolled by the river down into the sea.


Of the arch of life, raised by fate from the banks of thou art, and to dust shalt thou return.” Words, we eternity across the stream of time, both piers are in might fancy, figurative of the curve—the first and last the dust. When it was first Aung forth by the decree lowliness, and the intermediate elevation hinted in the of heaven, this destiny was announced to it-"Dust | word “return.”'

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