"No, Heaven be praised! I am as yet safe, and trust to deliver you out of their hands. Come with me to the battle ments." "The battlements!" exclaimed Garnet. a height as that were certain destruction." "A leap from such "It were so,” replied Catesby, dragging him along. “But trust to me, and you shall yet reach the ground uninjured." Arrived at the battlements, Catesby leaned over them, and endeavoured to ascertain what was beneath. It was still so dark that he could scarcely discern any objects but those close to him, but as far as he could trust his vision, he thought he perceived a projecting building some twelve or fourteen feet below; and calling to mind the form of the church, which he had frequently seen and admired, he remembered its chantries, and had no doubt but it was the roof of one of them that he beheld. If he could reach it, the descent from thence would be easy, and he immediately communicated the idea to Garnet, who shrank aghast from it. Little time, however, was allowed for consideration. Their pursuers had already scaled the stairs, and were springing one after another upon the leads, uttering the most terrible threats against the destroyer of their comrade. Hastily divesting himself of his cloak, Catesby clambered over the battlements, and, impelled by fear, Garnet threw off his robe, and followed his example. Clinging to the grotesque stone water-spouts which projected below the battlements, and placing the points of his feet upon the arches of the clerestory windows, and thence upon the mullions and transom bars, Catesby descended in safety, and then turned to assist his companion, who was quickly by his side. The most difficult and dangerous part of the descent was yet to be accomplished. They were now nearly thirty feet from the ground, and the same irregularities in the walls which had favoured them in the upper structure did not exist in the lower. But their present position, exposed as it was to their pursuers, who, having reached the point immediately overhead, were preparing to fire upon them, was too dangerous to allow of its occupation for a moment, and Garnet required no urging to make him clamber over the low embattled parapet. Descending a flying buttress that defended an angle of the building, Catesby, who was possessed of great strength and activity, was almost instantly upon the ground. Garnet was not so fortunate. Missing his footing, he fell from a considerable height, and his groans proclaimed that he had received some serious injury. Catesby instantly flew to him, and demanded, in a tone of the greatest anxiety, whether he was much hurt. "My right arm is broken," gasped the sufferer, raising himself with difficulty. "What other injuries I have sustained I know not; but every joint seems dislocated, and my face is covered with blood. Heaven have pity on me!" As he spoke, a shout of exultation arose from the hostile party, who having heard Garnet's fall, and the groans that succeeded it, at once divined the cause, and made sure of a capture. A deep silence followed, proving that they had quitted the roof, and were hastening to secure their prey. Aware that it would take them some little time to descend the winding staircase, and traverse the long aisle of the church, Catesby felt certain of distancing them. But he could not abandon Garnet, who had become insensible from the agony of his fractured limb, and lifting him carefully in his arms, he placed him upon his shoulder, and started at a swift pace towards the further extremity of the churchyard. At the period of this history, the western boundary of the Collegiate Church was covered by a precipitous sandstone rock of great height, the base of which was washed by the waters of the Irwell, while its summit was guarded by a low stone wall. In after years, a range of small habitations was built upon this spot, but they have been recently removed, and the rock having been lowered, a road now occupies their site. Nerved by desperation, Catesby, who was sufficiently well acquainted with the locality to know whither he was shaping his course, determined to hazard a descent, which, under calmer circumstances he would have deemed wholly impracticable. His pursuers, who issued from the church porch a few seconds after he had passed it, saw him hurry towards the low wall edging the precipice, and, encumbered as he was with the priest, vault over it. Not deeming it possible he would dare to spring from such a height, they darted after him. But they were deceived, and could scarcely credit their senses, when they found him gone. Holding down their torches, they perceived him shooting down the almost perpendicular side of the rock, and the next moment a hollow plunge told that he had reached the water. They stared at each other in mute astonishment. "Will you follow him, Dick Haughton?" observed one, as soon as he had recovered his speech. "Not I," replied the fellow addressed. "I have no fancy for a broken neck. Follow him thyself if thou hast a mind to try the soundness of thy pate. I warrant that rock will put it to the proof." "Yet the feat has just been done, and by one burthened with a wounded comrade into the bargain," remarked the first speaker. "He must be the devil, that's certain," rejoined Haughton, "and Doctor Dee himself is no match for him." "He has the devil's luck, that's certain," cried a third soldier. "But hark! he is swimming across the river. We may yet catch him on the opposite bank. Come along, comrades." With this, they rushed out of the churchyard; made the best of their way to the bridge; and crossing it, flew to the bank of the river, where they dispersed in every direction, in search for the fugitive. But they could not discover a trace of him, or hist wounded companion. CATESBY himself could scarcely tell how he accomplished his hairbreadth escape. Reckless almost of the result, he slid down the rock, catching at occasional irregularities as he descended. The river was of great depth at this point, and broke the force of his fall. On rising, he struck out a few yards, and suffered himself to be carried down the stream. He had never for one moment relinquished his hold of Garnet, and being an admirable swimmer, found no difficulty in sustaining him with one arm, while with the other he guided his course in the water. In this way, he reached the shore in safety, about a hundred yards below the bridge, by which means he avoided his pursuers, who, as has just been stated, searched for him above it. After debating with himself for a short time as to what course he should pursue, he decided upon conveying Garnet to the hall, where he could procure restoratives and assistance; and though he was fully sensible of the danger of this plan, not doubting the mansion would be visited and searched by his pursuers before morning, yet the necessity of warning Guy Fawkes outweighed every other consideration. Accordingly. again shouldering the priest, who, though he had regained his sensibility, was utterly unable to move, he commenced his toilsome march; and being frequently obliged to pause and rest himself, it was more than an hour before he reached his destination. It was just growing light as he crossed the drawbridge, and seeing a horse tied to a tree, and the gate open, he began to fear the enemy had preceded him. Full of misgiving, he laid Garnet upon a heap of straw in an outbuilding, and entered the house. He found no one below, though he glanced into each room. He then noiselessly ascended the stairs, with the intention of proceeding to Guy Fawkes's chamber. As he traversed the gallery, he heard voices in one of the chambers, the door of which was ajar, and pausing to listen, distinguished the tones of Viviana. Filled with astonishment, he was about to enter the room to inquire by what means she had reached the hall, when he was arrested by the voice of her companion. It was that of Humphrey Chetham. Maddened by jealousy, Catesby's first impulse was to rush into the room and stab his rival in the presence of his mistress. But he restrained his passion by a powerful effort. After listening for a few minutes intently to their conversation, he found that Chetham was taking leave, and creeping softly down stairs, stationed himself in the hall, through which he knew his rival must necessarily pass. Chetham presently ap peared. His manner was dejected; his looks downcast; and he would have passed Catesby without observing him, if the latter had not laid his hand upon his shoulder. "Mr. Catesby!" exclaimed the young merchant, starting as he beheld the stern glance fixed upon him. "I thought- "You thought I was a prisoner, no doubt," interrupted Catesby, bitterly. "But you are mistaken. I am here to confound you and your juggling and treacherous associate." "I do not understand you," replied Chetham. "I will soon make myself intelligible," retorted Catesby. "Follow me to the garden." "I perceive your purpose, Mr. Catesby," replied Chetham, calmly; "but it is no part of my principles to expose my life to ruffianly violence. If you choose to lay aside this insolent demeanour, which is more befitting an Alsatian bully than a gentleman, I will readily give you such explanation of my conduct as will fully content you, and satisfy you that any suspicions you may entertain of me are unfounded." "Coward!" exclaimed Catesby, striking him. "I want no explanation. Defend yourself, or I will treat you with still greater indignity." "Lead on, then," cried Chetham, "I would have avoided the quarrel if I could. But this outrage shall not pass unpunished." As they quitted the hall, Viviana entered it; and, though she was greatly surprised by the appearance of Catesby, his furious gestures left her in no doubt as to his purpose. She called to him to stop. But no attention was paid by either party to her cries. On gaining a retired spot beneath the trees, Catesby, without giving his antagonist time to divest himself of the heavy horseman's cloak with which he was incumbered, and scarcely to draw his sword, assaulted him. The combat was furious on both sides, but it was evident that the young merchant was no match for his adversary. He maintained his ground, however, for some time with great resolution; but, being hotly pressed, in retreating to avoid a thrust, his foot caught in the long grass, and he fell. Catesby would have passed his sword through his body if it had not been turned aside by another weapon. It was that of Guy Fawkes, who, followed by Martin Heydocke, had staggered towards the scene of strife, reaching it just in time to save the life of Humphrey Chetham. "Heaven be praised! I am not too late! he exclaimed. "Put up your blade, Catesby; or, turn it against me." JOHN BULL ABROAD. In Jacky Bull, when bound for France, But, taught to ride, to fence, and dance, A finished goose comes over. With his tierce and his carte, ha! ha! O'KEEFE. CERTAINLY "the nation of shopkeepers" has offered to our French neighbours as many admirable subjects for satire, and its coarser substitute, ridicule, as must have almost palled the appetite of a people so peculiarly alive to the ridiculous. It has been well said of the Scotch that they send their wise sons abroad, and keep their fools at home. The English appear to have reversed the proposition, and send, with some few of their wise, a prodigious portion of their fools across the channel. I have been led into these reflections by a long residence on the Continent, where (making myself, perhaps, one of the number I have last mentioned) I have witnessed an amazing influx and reflux of my countrymen, not without some surprise, as well as pain. That a people celebrated over the civilised world for the comforts of their own domestic habits,—and, generally speaking, no less remarkable for their sterling sense,-should voluntarily present themselves as so many monsters of absurdity for exhibition in the very heart of the French dominions, is an instance of fatuity which nothing but an utter unconsciousness of their own peculiarities—which somewhat detracts from their reputation for wisdom-can possibly account for. There is not, perhaps, in the world a nation so keenly susceptible of the ridiculous as the French; and, above all, the inhabitants of the metropolis are alive to this mirth-provoking tendency. This, therefore, beyond all others, as if by some power of fascination, our English emigrants, who have more money than wit, consider as their main object of locomotive attraction. Thither flock thousands with no other view than to spend money, and kill time. Thither resort other thousands (strange to say) to save money, and gain time to adjust their own embarrassed affairs at home. Thither repair many, from no unpraiseworthy curiosity; and thither a few from a pure desire to become acquainted with the institutions, customs, and manners of a nation celebrated for so many ages for their pre-eminence in political jurisprudence, in sciences, and those polite arts which give a zest to life and a polish to society. From the first two classes I have named are to be selected the subjects of my remark at starting. Some few instances, indeed, might be fairly selected from the third; and I well remember when all Paris was in ecstasy on the visit of a worthy knight, long distinguished at home as a lawyer of profound learning, and raised by his talents alone to a new and high dignity in his profession, who had the surprising absence of reflection to print his name on his visitingticket as VOL. VIII. K ! |