fool“: uno-
N00 95‘.

 

 

THE MASKED MESSENGER:

THE MAID OF GPESHAM GRANGE.

 

 

BY HERRICK JOHNSTONE.

 

NEW YORK:

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, .’
98 WILLIAM STREET.

 

{Entered according to Act. of Congress, in the Year 19 . by

~ HEADLE AND COMPANY,
‘3 . "1 {JEer xOfli-‘e of the District Court of the United Statue (0! tin?
Southern Didtriot of New York.

 

 

 

 

THE MESSENGER.

C H A P T E R I .
THE TIME AND THE PEOPLE.

THE field of romance is a broad one. Meager,
indeed, must be the record of a State which will not
furnish subject-matter for the adventurous pen of fie-
tion. It were presumption in any one to say that the
ehoicer fountains of inspiration in this department of
literature can be drained; that the master-efforts of
Sue, Dumas, and George Sand, and of the others
“whose names are fair upon the blazoued shield,”
have exhausted the records and traditions of the past.
Truly, the fountain of the past is inexhaustible, since
beauty, and love, and heroism can not perish. It is
a brimming, never-lessening fountain, whence an en-
raptured world can drink forever. There is one fair
tale of love and loyalty, of soldier-blows and love-
sighs, which has, as yet, escaped the romaneers of
the past, and which, I trust, will not ungracefully ap-
pear within the ensuing pages.

The scene is laid in England, in the autumn of'the
year 1651—that eventful autumn in the eventful me
of Charles Stuart, afterward known as the “ Merry
Monarch,” when he stood at bay with fourteen thou-
sand Scotchmen, and a few hundred hastily-gathered

 

    

 
 

8 THE MESSENGER.

cavaliers, before the iron-handed Cromwell, who,
gathering the county militia as he pursued the
prince, was bearing down from the Scottish border
With overwhelming force, and a determination to
exterminate, at one fell swoop, the Royalist cause
forever. Misfortune had attended the house of Stu-
art for years. Defeated at Edgehill, at Reading, at

‘ Naseby, and on a hundred smaller fields, with the
crowning, bloody disaster of Marston Moor—the

' elder Charles had closed the first act of the tragic
drama by baring his proud neck to the headsman’s
stroke. But, undismayed, undaunted, came now the,
younger Stuart to claim his throne and strike for
vengeance. Fearless and sanguine, full of the buoy-
ancy of youth and health, with his faculties whetted
by poverty and insult long endured, he looked with
confidence upon the approaching shock of war, and
had no forebodings of the still sevcrer disaster which
was to blight his cause and send him a hopeless,
hunted fugitive from his native shore.

Among those who still clung with enthusiastic de-
votion to his falling fortunes, was a gentleman of
Northumberland, of the name of Guy Carlington,
the sole remaining scion of an illustrious family,
whose lot had been cast with the king’s from the

' very commencement of this turbulent period of civic
dissensions in Britain. Guy’s father had (lied bravely
‘at the siege of Reading, cheering on his troop of
horsemen to the charge; and the scythe of death haxl
mown his elder brother, larnett, from lHS steed at
the carnage of Marston Moor; in which battle Guy

/ .

himself was severely wounded, but survived for 

 

 

 

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for

    

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csmmeros AND CIIALLONER.

9

further deeds. The surrender of Charles 1 into the
hands of his enemies, had so far put an end to the
contest, that young Carlington had sought and ob-
tained security in his dreary manor-house of River-
ton, as it was called, in the most hilly and uninhab-
ited portion of Northumberland. But, if forgotten

‘ by his enemies, and suffered by them to live unmo-

' lested in this secluded spot, by the imprisoned mon-
arch and his fugitive queen and her children the
name of Carlington was forever coupled with grati-
tude and honor. And now, when the royal cause
looked up again, the devoted cavalier did not hesi-
tate to seize his brand anew and hasten to join the
prince at Worcester, with such handful of loyal
troopers as he could muster from among his old fol-
lowers.

Another character, quite the antithesis of this
chivalric one I have hastily described, must here be
introduced. Robert Challoner was a king-hater by
instinct, a bigoted Puritan by faith, and a. gallant
soldier withal. He was, also, a Northumbrian, and
‘a neighbor of Carlington—Gresham G'ange, his
family seat, being scarcely twelve miles from River-
ton manor. Sir David Challoner, Robert’s father,
also a devoted Roundhead, was on State service in

!' Ireland most of the time, and Lady Challoncr, his
consort, was living at Paris—the aristocratic atmos-
phere of France being more congenial with her dis-
position than the sobcr, Puritan rule which had pos-
sessed her native Britain. A direct descendant of the

 ‘ king-loving house of Lindsey, her political inclina-

tion had led to an early estrangement from her

 

 
  

     
    
   
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   

10 THE MESSENGER.

  

husband and son, and she would gladly have carried
her daughter, Charlotte, with her into this voluntary
exile, but that the daughter, though herself a Roy-
alist, refused to be separated from her father and
brother by such an interval of space, preferring to
remain at the Grange, and trust to a brighter future.
And as her brother’s military duty kept him away _
from home, the lady Charlotte had a lonely time of 
it at the remote country place, with her few servants
around her, and nothing but her tambour frame or
her pet falcon for entertainment. 
An idolizer of Cromwell, and an excellent soldier,
and a shrewd thinker, Colonel Robert Challoner was
a rising man; but unscrupulous, uriprineipled, and
with a temper so uncontrollably bad, that he was fre-
quently his own enemy, through a whim of partisan
malice or vengeance. Where heavy blows were to
be dealt, a dangerous scheme to be consunnnated, he
was a trusted man ; and the great chiefs of his party
had ample occupation for him in this province. But,
if a discreet diplomacy were needed, if a Royalist .
was to be unmasked by intrigue and plotting, it was
a piece of deviltry they allotted to cooler heads, less _
rvindictive bosoms, than Robert Challoner, of Gre; 
sham Grange. To such a man, the loyal opinions of [ I
his pure sister, Charlotte, were necessarily the source 5

of much uneasiness and chagrin; though to do him» z,

justice, he loved her tenderly, and would generally 
“ eat his rage” in her presence; while she was too
/ sensible to provoke him unnecessarily by an obtrusive L.
’ expression of sentiments which, though dear to her- '
self, were obnoxious to him. Nevertheless, in spite

 

  
 
 

 

 

 
  
  
 

 

 

 

.

THE FAMILY FEUD. ll

of their mutual efl‘orts, when Robert was at the
Grange, stormy scenes would occasionally occur be-
tween them, and the iraseiblc Roundhead would pace
the floor like an imprisoned tiger, and drive his sister
to the silence of the garret with his blasphcmous de-
nunciations of the Royalists, the Cavaliers, the t‘ Ma-
lignants,” as they were sometimes called; for he for-

 got his prayer-book and psalmody completely in these

ebullitions, or only culled them for oaths.

But if there was one thing that served, more than
others, to reuse the revengeful ire of Challoner, it
was his sister’s connection with her Royalist lover,
the lonely lord of River-ton manor. IIe stormed, he
menaced, lie threatened to drag the Ca 'alier from his
seclusion and have him hanged at London, if his sis-
ter did not renounce his acquaintance; but in vain.
The proud woman would not disown her lover, and
defied her brother’s rage. Matters became so bad,
however, and the eolonel’s rage so intense, that Char-
lotte at length forced herself to persuade Carlington
to discontinue his visits while her brother or his foi-
lowers were inmates of the Grange, and from tho
hard necessity, they mutually made this agreement
between them. Threats and menaces had been be-
stowed in vain when they fell only upon herself; but
she suffered herself to be conquered into temporary
obedience when they were directed at him she loved.

I Before the commencement of civil discord, no fam-
ilies had been on more fraternal terms than the Chal-
loners and Carlingtons; and the affection which
Charlotte and Guy entertained for each other was
not. of sudden growth. She had been a girl

 

  

 

  

   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

   

12 THE MESSENGER.

sweetheart, and he a boy-lover. They had played. 1
together as children, while their respective sires were
cosily drinking home-brewed together by the huge
fireplace of' Riverth manor, or inspecting the fat
steers and blooded hunters of the Gresham stables.
But the trouble fell upon the land; their friendship ,
cooled; and the breach had slowly widened as the L
war-cloud darkened. The old men spoke of each >
other with bitterness, and a ferocious quarrel arose
between Robert Challoner and Garnett Carlington,
before mentioned,~ which culminated in a duel, in'
which the farmer was badly but not dangerously .
wounded. Then the feud between the two families
seemed complete, with the exception of lady Challo—
ner and her daughter, who failed to participate in the .r
quarrel, on account of their Royalist tendencies, and
the latter for an additional and tenderer reason.

~

 

 

 

 

drawing-room window, gazing out upon the

TEE GRANGE.

CHAPTER II.

GRESHAM GRANGE. .

“Bring me my golden spurs,

I must travel far to-day,

And the towels shall rake my courser‘s side

Till red, be mixed with his gray.”—OLD BALLAD.
MANY lights were twinkling from the windows of
Gresham Grange as the soft September evening fell
upon the drear N orthumbrian hills. There was also
an unusual bustle within, and lanterns were moving
about the stables. Fully twenty steeds were tethered
to the trees of the broad avenue which led up to the
mansion, with a few surly troopers guarding them,
and the jingling of armor, with now and then gruff
voices, could be heard all through and around the
house. For Colonel Challoner was preparing to join
Cromwell at the south, and there was great hurry
of preparation among his hastily-collected veterans.
The Grange itself was a fine old mansion, lordly
in its dimensions, and elegant in its wide stretch of
angles and prim gables. Noble were the grand old
elms that lined the stately avenue, and half buried

" the mansion itself in a bosom of green foliage; and,

from the upper bay-window of the northern Wing,
you can just see the dim white spire of Y
cathedral, the nearest town.

Notwithstanding the hustle and confusion that
surrounded her, Charlotte Challoner sat alone in the

 

    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

\

    

 

 

14 THE MESSENGER.

darkening landscape, with something mom-nful and
anx10us in her gaze. The night is chill, and a bril-
liant fire is blazing on the hearth, which needs not
the feeble aid of the brazen lantern that swings from
the ceiling to make the room as bright as day. In
truth, the flame is so cheerful, and the lady looks so
lovely as its bright flicker leaps upon her dejected head,

  

that we must take this opportunity to describe her.

She was beneath the medium size of women—very
little, however; and there is that queenly stateliness
of mien and robustness of outline, blended with her
perfectly modest'demeanor, which gives you a no-
tion of greater hight than the lady could rightfully
claim. The head which reclines upon her hand is
small and noble, festooncd with a multitude of im-
prisoned ringlets of the deepest auburn; and the
pale, clear face, which they partially conceal, is one of
beauty. The fairness of its complexion is dazzling.
A sweet, gently-retreating chin, lips of a tempting
scarlet, and temples veined like Parian marble,
fill in the pure oval of her face. And when the
dark, deep, thoughtful eyes dawn like a blue and
lustrous heaven from the perfect face, a feeling of
adoration creeps into the heart, and you pray that
she may speak, that music may be added to the
charm. A rich robe of velvet, out in the fashion of
the time, with the neck and shoulders bare, and the
snow-White arms dropped freely from the wide and
pointed sleeves,._invest her lovely figure; and, save
the lucent necklace of pearl, a ring of wonderful

"brilliancy, which flashes from her righthand, is her f

V/

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THE BEARER 0F DISPATCIIES. 15

She rose with a sigh and passed toward the back
door, which led to another chamber, for jarring
voices were heard from the hall outside, and she
wished to escape them. But the door opened, and
Colonel Challoner entered before she could make good
her exit. Along with him entered a person who was

1 a stranger to the lady.

“ Charlotte, pray be acquainted with Captain Lu-
ther Ling,” said her brother, introducing his bom-
panion. “ Captain, my sister, the Lady 'Chal-
loner.”

The captain bowed obsequiously, and the lady,
with a slight but courteous inclination of her head,
completed the brief ceremony. She saw that her
brother Wished to be left alone with his guest, and,
in a few moments, found a pretext to quit the chamber.

“ You come direct from the General?” said Chal-
loner.

“Direct,” replied the other, who was a small man,
well-favored, and of gentlemanly (lepertment, though
dusty and disordered from a long ride.

“You say the ‘Malignants’ were at Worcester.
How many?”

“ Thirty thousand, report says.”

“ Report lies, then. It is impossible they should

' have twenty,” said the colonel.
I ' “ General Cromwell gives them credit for fifteen,”
said the other. “ 7% have twenty thousand——

/ * enough to crop their curls, and cure them of lying.

I have given you the papers. Excuse me, I am
faint. May I have some water? I—I~—” The
young man had grown deadly pale as he spoke, and .

 

  

16 THE MESSEJG 1m.

now reeled into a chair with an ejaculation of'excess
ive pain.
Water was procured, and several soldiers crowded

into the room; while Charlotte, who had heard the‘

alarm, bent over the sufferer and bathed his brow,
after his lips had tasted the refreshing element. The
colonel stood by him with more curiosity than pity.

“Thanks, kind lady, I am better already,” said
the daptain. It’s only a scratch I have received—a
mere scratch.” ‘

“ What, man! are you wounded ?” cried Chal
loner. “Hilton, call Dr. Gill. \Vhy didn’t you say
you were hurt before, man?”

“ Duty first, colonel.”

“ Where was it, and when ‘3’?

“ Is it wise for you to question him in his present
condition, brother?” said Charlotte’s sweet voice ;
and the sufi'erer’s dark eyes thereupon rested on her
pitying face with a world of gratitude in their
trembling gaze.

“ I will give the colonel due information upon this
most godless and sinful and impious and blasphemous
affair,” said a trooper of very remarkable appearance,
who cast a “most sinful and godless ” and black look

I at Dr. Gill, as the latter jostled him in his haste to
get at the wounded man.

“ Do so at once, sergeant,” said the colonel, impa-
tiently.

The sergeant was aman of about fifty years, tall, and
gaunt as a skeleton, but evidently of prodigious musn
cular strength. He looked more like a preacher than

I loldiar, in spite of his b-reastplate and the long

\

 

‘f-é-vw —~—, .—

    

 
      
   

 

17

SERGEANT JEREMIAH PRIM.

blade girt so primly up to his waist. A greasy
prayer-book was stuck in his belt between two im-
mense pistols ; and an expression of such extravagant
sanctimony invested his hypocritical visage, from the
long and pointed beard to the bristling summitof his
closely-shaven head, that it was not easy to behold
him without smiling. This man, Sergeant eremiah

. Prim, as he called himself and was called, was a type,

or rather, caricature, of a class of Puritans who were
probably the most dangerous element which civilized
society has ever formed. He was an utter hypocrite,
treacherous, villainous, and brave ; most probably us-
ihghis mask of excessive and ridiculous sanetimouy, to
disguise a disposition naturally devilish and insincere;
though he who would have been misled by the
flimsy artifice, must have been a singular fool. Not
in the least (lisconcerted by the colonel’s testy com-
mand, the pious trooper took his own time and way
for the recital.

“ It happened about noon of this blessed and
godly day, most worthy ‘chieftain,” said he, “and
scarcely a dozen miles from this sacred house, upon
which may the righteous and discriminating Lord of
Hosts, in his infinite mercy, pour down his blessings
in a ceaseless shower, yea, like to the stream that
tumbleth from the hills. As we rode along, such an

awful spirit of joy entered into me, that I lifted up u

my voice in psalms of thanksgiving to the Most
High, whose hand shall surely lead us to wade
rejoicingly in the running blood of the Philistine
Royalists, and whose aegis of protection shall cover
the bosons of his devoted and time-serving-‘—”'

 

 

 
 

18 THE MESSENGER.

“ There, there, my good fellow ! to the subject, if
you please, to the subject,” said the colonel, pettisbly.

“ As I was about to say, most worthy and God-
fearing chieftain, when I had thus lifted up my sin-
cere and holy thanksgiving to the throne of grace,
the road led us down into a dark and lonesome dingle
of the forest, like to the vague approaches to the pit
where writhe and squirm the damned, forever, when
a party of wretched, wine-guzzling, Sabbath-break
ing, God-defying, blasphemous Cavaliers broke from
the ambush of the wood, and charged us with drawn
swords, and with such heaven-displeasing slogans as,
‘Down with the Roundheads l’ ‘ Huizah for the
king !’ ‘A Charles ! a Rupert! a Rupert l’ Hesitat—
ing not to seek the contact of battle with these blas-
phemous wretches, more especially in that they
numbered not half so great as we, the children of
the Lord, we met them with sturdy buffets as they
came, and two of them were quickly launched in
Tartarus, while several of our own brethren, how-
ever, were likewise stricken from their steeds by the
Philistine hands. It was evident that they wanted
our dispatches from the General, from the manner in
Which they endeavored to surround and carry off our
valorous captain; but he struck so righteously and
‘ strong, and we were so numerous and timely in our
might, that they were speedily driven to a shameful
flight, like the evil spirits that abscond in the glance
of the Lord God Jehovah, leaving two of their
number slain, and one, a mad-cap scofl'er at the Lord,
alive and a prisoner in our hands. Thus, in the flush,
of their evil. designs—” ‘ '

 

  

 

 

THE RINGLEADER. 19

“There, there! thank you, sergeant, you may—”

“Thus, in the flush of their malignant purposes,
did the wicked melt before J ehovah’s sword. Our
righteous Chieftain was sorely wounded, but disdained
to quit his saddle till his missi )1! was completed.
And, though the foul ringleader ( f the attack escaped,
his notoriety—”

“ Ha ! you recognized him?”

“ Faith, I lost a finger by him at Marston Moor,
and should not soon forget his evil face.”

“Who was it?”

“ The madcap Carlington, of Riverton manor.”

Challoner sprung back with an oath, and stamped
the floor in his rage.

“By Jove! he has knotted the noose for his own
neck!” he exclaimed. “ Lewis, hid Captain \Valler
to come here directly,” he continued, addressing a
man-at-arms, who left the‘chamber ohedicntly.

“ You say you have a prisoner?” he added, turn-
ing to Prim.

“ Yea, verily, colonel, a most scofling, villain-
ous—”

“ Bring him in!” And the sergeant also departed.

“ You sent for me, colonel?” said an officer, entering.

“Yes. How many men can you mount in five
minutes ?” ‘ '

“ Thirty, or more.”

“That is more than enough.
You know Riverton manor ?”

“ Perfectly.”

“ Surround it, and seize the owner.
slay him like a. wolf.”

Lose not a moment."

If he resists,

 

 
  
     
 
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

\)

.fully will I perform—”

THE MESSENGER.

  

Charlotte had risen like a ghost at the mention of
her lover’s name. Pale as a very specte r, she heard
the cruel mandate delivered. Even now she could
hear the clamp 0f spurs on the courtyard pavement,
and the hurrying hoofs of steeds, preparing for the
secret expedition. Her heart was cold with appre-
hension. She felt confused and unable to speak or
act. Tramp, tramp, came the heavy footsteps of the
approaching guard, and a merry, reckless voice half
chanted and half caroled as it came:

“ At Marston Moor, by rebels four,
I found myself surrounded; .
'Your horse!’ said one; said another, ‘ your gnni’
‘Here they are,‘ said I, ‘ for l‘m wounded !’

Tm 1a, tm in, tra 111.!
Charles Stuart is king of England.

“ But at Landsdown heath, when they rolled beneath
The flash of our swords with a shiver—
‘Your sword !’ quoth his pride; ‘ it is here!‘ I cried;
And I made a. tight sheath of his liver!
Tm la, tru 1a, tra la! .
Charles Stuart is king of England."

The last stanza of this refrain was bawled into the
very ears of the Roundhead colonel, as the singer
was ushered into the room between two files of stem
troopers, carbines in hand, with the hypocritical
sergeant at their head, his holy visage working with
disgust at the distasteful ditty, which; he could not
help hearing.

“ Hold thy blasphemous tongue, thou defamer of
the just i” he growled at the prisoner, and then ad-
ded, “ here is the revilcr, most worthy colonel ; if it is
thy wish that he should be hung at once, most grate-

 

  
   
 
    
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
   
  
 
  
 
 

i i

J A ROLLICKING PRISONER. 22

" A rope well-knotted and tied, my lord,
Well-knotted behind the ear,
Then a glass or wine, and a leap from the board,
And I’m free! cries the wild Cavalier.
Tra 1a, tra la—”

“ Peace l peace! thou villain !” said Challoner.
“ What is thy name ?”
i 1 “Ralph Rackett, of Gawtrey Bridge.”
3 5 The speaker was an exceedingly well-favored young
man, but emaciated with dissipation. The reckless,
merry twinkle of his gray eyes bespoke the careless,
loose spirit of his order. After the fashion of the
if Cavaliers, his hair was worn in heavy ringlets, and so
 long as to hang upon and below his shoulders. His,
’ doublet was of an expensive material and fashionable
5 cut, but sadly disordered, with the lace eufi's reddened
With wine-stains. IIis jovial spirit was undashed by
misfortune, and he broke forth anew:

“ You ask my name. it is all the same,
Then call me a prince or the devil,
But whatever betide, when alone you ride—"

“Peace 1” roared the colonel. “ I know thee, fel-
low, for a devilish ‘ Malignant,’ and a disgrace to
the shire. Who was the ringleader of your
foray ‘1’”

“ A mm.” M.

There was evidently a slim chance of “ pumping ”

y the prisoner to advantage, so Challoner turned aside

" to confer with Prim, and the Cavalier unceremoniously»
pushed aside his guards and stepped up closer to the

. ‘ bright fire, humming some fresh doggerel as he did
so. While he stood there, looking at the red coals
 of the burning logs, there came a whisper, a whisper
so low that it barely reached his own ear:

I

  

 

22 THE MESSENGER.

“Hist! Ralph !”

He looked up quickly but cautiously, and saw the
Lady Charlotte standing near him. Could that whis-
per he hers ? Yes, although she was not looking at
him, although her pale lips did not move, the voice
was hers, and it whispered again :

“ Hist! Ralph! Do you know me '3”

“ Yes,” he replied, in a tone as low as hers.

“ Do not look at me,” continued the whisperer,
hurriedly; “keep your eyes fixed on the fire and
listen. Thirty men are just starting to capture Car-
lington. He will be seized or slain if they find him.
Is he at Riverton 1’”

“ Sires),

“ Alas!” \

The low sigh of suppressed agony went to the
young man’s heart.

“ Carlington must be apprised of his danger, lady,”
he whispered. “ Oh, if I were but free!” and he
threw a quick under-glance around the chamber, as

if searching for means of escape, but dropped-’ his

eyes hopelessly again.
“ Is there no way to save him?” whispered Char-
lotte. ‘
“ One Way—a friend, and a fleet horse.
“Alas! I have only the latter.”
‘ “Have you no friend— not one, lady?”
A “ No. Yet stay!” He saw her fair forehead con-
' tract, and then a blush flew into her cheek, but was
gone again in a second.
“ Yes—I forgot; I have a. friend, a. feeble but
true one!”

n-w

 

 
  
 

 
     

  

 

’~

RALPH b ADVICE. 23

“ Thank God 1” said the Cavalier, with much fewer
for such a madcap. “ Lady, lose not a moment.
Get your friend into the saddle. He can overtake
the troopers if he rides with a will; and he can save
a mile by taking the short cut by the Red Bridge.”

But he glanced up to find that the lady had vanished.
Then Sergeant Prim gave the order, and Ralph Rack-
ett was remanded to his prison.

 

  

THE MESSENG ER.

  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

CHAPTER III.

THE FRIEND IN NEED.

'“A steed! a. steed! and a friend in need!
‘ By our Lady, he crosses the ford!
He bears no pennon, he wears no plume,
Only his good broadsword."——Sco'r'nsu SONG.

 

THE Cavalier might have shrugged his shoulders ‘
and given up Carlington for a doomed man, had he ‘ ‘

seen the lithe, boyish figure of him whom Charlotte l “
Challoner had chosen for her lover’s rescuer, as he t
glided from the dark rear-wall of Gresham Grange, ‘1
across the moonlight, which now rested brightly upon 5 h
the courtyard, and on to the deep forest behind the I a
stables. Poor Charlotte! She must indeed be in l 0
want of friends, when she trusts this mission of peril  _
in the keeping of a mere lad, such as this, her page,  8'1
as he seems to be. And yet there is something so  “
sprightly and precoeious in the lad’s appearance, as he I t“
hastily makes his way across the illuminated space, _W‘

, that one’s confidence is momentarily augmented. He 

' could not have numbered seventeen summers. A i 81*
tight-fitting riding-suit of black velvet enveloped his l t8!
1 slender form and graceful limbs, with a narrow scarf 1 yo
or sash at the waist, and a heavy felt Cavalier’s hat  at

‘ i almost entirely concealed his features with its slouch- _ .
ing brim. He passed briskly but cautiously forward, ii 1110
and did not attempt to enter the stables, in which, if

  

 

LAnnY’s common. 25
I

he had succeeded in eluding the guards, he might

have secured a. choice of Challoner’s excellent»

thorough-breds, but made for the forest. Just then

the harsh voice of Sergeant Prim was heard at the‘

head of the avenue in front of the mansion, and the
young messenger quickened his pace as he heard the
tramp of ' steeds preparing for the gallop. Next
came the shrill order of the captain in command:
“Trot out i” and the hurrying beat of hoofs apprised
the page that the war-hounds had scented their prey,
and were oflf for a long chase. IIis mistress had,
doubtless, made him aware of the momentous nature
of his errand, for the sound of the galloping troop-

xers was a spur to his speed, and he fairly flew toward

the thicket. Striking an exceedingly narrow path-
way that led straight forward into its very depths,
he hesitated not to plunge into the uncertain gloom,
and sped down the pathway with the confidence of
one well used to its windings.

“ God help me! is the path interminable?” he

' gasped, when he had proceeded for several furlongs.

“ No—herc is the dingle, at last!” he added, as he
turned into a small opening in the forest, through

,which the moonlight poured in uninterrupted splendor.

A small cottage was located at the bottom of the
glen, and the light of a torch, or hearth-fire, was glit-
tering through its lattice. To this habitation the
young. man breathlessly hastened, and rapped sharply
at the door with the butt of his loaded whip.

“ Quick, Nanny, tell Larry to come out without a

'*moment’s delay!” he cried, to an old domestic who
.,op9nod the door, and his face spoke more than his.

'fi_

 

 

 

26 THE MESSENGER.

words, he was so pale and wild. So Nanny turned,
Without a question, to do the bidding of the page;
and, in a few seconds, the old groom camelumbering
out with a portion of his half-considered evening
crust in his hand.

“ Come, Larry, saddle me Boreas, in a flash of
lightning. It’s a life and death ride, all the way to
River-ton l”

“ To Riverton! a twelve-mile gallop so deep in
the night !” exclaimed the old retainer, halting in his
I astonishment. “ But really, hadn’t you better get
some one else to go? The way is alive with fi-eeboot—
ers. 'You will have—”

“ No words! come on! come!” cried the page im-
patiently, seizing the groom by the arm and dragging
him along the path they had taken. “ There was no
one to send but myself,” he added kindly, 10th to
wound the old man’s feelings. “ I need only tell you
that the object of my haste is to save the life of Guy
Carlington, and you will pardon my seeming want
of respect for your dear old self”

“ Guy! to save Guy’s life!” ejaculated the other.
“ God’s blood! Old as I am, I’d gallop from Land’s

End to John O’Groat’s house myself, to save the noble
Cavalier’s finger from a scratch l” and he pressed for-
ward with all dispatch.

They had not far to go before their pathway had
an end at a small and rude, but comfortable and sub-
stantial, rustic stable that was reared of logstamong
the concealing trees ; and the sound of their footsteps

I on the leaves and brushwood roused a shrill whinny .- -

  

from within. 1 . ',

   

 

m h—s—IL-

 

n‘ewvvu‘

mm

 

 

THE ARAB STEED. 27

“ Ah, he hears us ! the old fellow is awake,” criéd
the page, joyfully.

Larry opened the stable-door and brought out a
saddle and other gear; he then entered once more
and led out into the bright moonshine a wonderful
steed.

“ Boreas! dear Boreas l” cried the young man,
leaping tOV'ard him, and caressing his noble head
With genuine affection, while the courser arched his
proud neck and whinnied again and again in a soft,
human way, as if he had rejoined an old and beloved
friend. The groom made all speed in investing him
with the bright trappings.

Surely, never was there such another steed, nor
one more calculated to raise affection as well  pride
in the breast of his possessor. Milky-white—as pure
as the drifted snow—it was :1. stallion of great size,
with energy and speed in every quiver of his faultless
frame, in every stamp of his nervous, sinewy limbs
——and fire, pluck, uneonquerable resolve, in every
glitter of his big darkeyes; while the beautifully-
shaped head, the iron bend of the massive. neck, the
enormous depth of chest, and the clean, small hoofs,
bespoke him desert-born—an absolute and perfect
Arab of the wastes. The skin was utterly white,
but there was a bright, tawny tinge in the heavy-
flowing mass of mane and tail, which made them
glitter in the moonlight like drifted gold.

“ In truth, he was a noble steed.

_ A Tartar, of the Ukraine breed,
Who looked as though the speed of thought
Were 11) his limbs; but he was Wild—”

‘The saddle was on in a triee, the strong curb

 

  

98 THE ’MnssENG ’22.

16er into the unwilling jaws, and the martingale:
looped at the breast. '

“ N ow, Larry, your hand !” cried the page ; and,
barely touching the old man’s proffered hand with
his foot,he vaulted airily on the towering steed, that

_. neighed again and waited impatiently for the spur.

“Hold 1” said the groom, respectfully, “ one word,
'I pray you! Are you armed?”

The youth threw open his vest With a smile, and,
for a single instant, the moohshine twinkled on the
peeping butt of a pistol; then with a parting “ God-
speed,” from the anxious servitor, the snowy courser
bounded down the bridle—path, and horse and rider
were soon lost in the forest beyond.

It would have been a wonderful and spectral sight
to see them as they flew over the country. The
forest—path was not brief, but it only required afew mo-
ments of the powerful strides of the mottled stallion
to clear the trees, and leave the gloom in his rear.
Then away, ovér the country, up hill and down,
through shadow and moonlight, they sped along the
grass-grown,seldom-used, by-road, till the little town
of Allandale lay quiet and peaceful beneath them, as
they gained the summit of the ridge that overbrows
the village from the north. As they did so, the
tones of the church-clock came floating up on the
evening breeze With the stroke of nine, and, obedient
to the rein, the swift courser halted in his traeks.
But it was something more than the village church:
bell that made the messenger pause.

Silencing, as best he could, the restless stamp of
the curbed charger, he bent his head anxiously

    
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

 

§=~mAAAAA

   

u—n
n.

  

  

THE FLYING PAGE.

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
  
    
 
 
 

forward, and listened intently. There was no min.
taking the sound. Far away, beyond the streets of
the sleeping town, he caught the clatter of many
steeds, which grew fainter and fainter  he listened.
The Roundheads were still a long way in front, and
1 evidently pushing their steeds to the utmost.

': “ God, in thy mercy, lend me aid, or he is lost
i muttered the page, devoutly. “ Now, Boreas, for the
home-stretch !” and pressing his heels in the stallion’s
flank, they fled like a torrent down the steep toward
the quiet river that flashed below them in the moon-
light in the valley. There was a ford which would
require caution and a consequent lessening of speed
in crossing. It was a desperate chance to outride
the troopers; but his road was a mile the shorter,
his steed was the fleetest in Britain, and the trusting
messenger gathered heart as he sped onward.

l “ As he did so let us go before them all to the unsus-
- 3 peeting quietude of Riverton manor.

Larger and more castle-like than Gresham Grange,
it V'as even more out of repair. The drawbridge of
a, the meat was a stationary fixture now; the weeds
 were taller in the courtyard, and a greater antiquity
could be reckoned 0n the giant bolls of the old oak-
trees that shadowed the lawn. Beside this, the
western Wing was almost a hopeless ruin ; the Gothic
towers and chimneys thickly overgrown with ivy and
5'  other wild creepers. But the entire effect of the
1: somber old mansion was inexpressihly beautiful and
. melancholy in the glimmer of the autumn moon,
’f i which drifted over its hoariness like a woman’s hand '
‘ laid softly on a wrinkled brow. And, scarcely .5

'5)

amwwwnwv

  

 

 
 

me

 

I bow-shot from the meat, the small river, or stream,

80 THE MESSENGER.

that flows from the higher ranges of the Tyne, and
thence to the sea, glittered like a silver sword be-
tween its blooming banks. ‘

, How difi'erent the manor from the bustle and noise
of the Grange! But a single gleam, and that but a.
faint one, shone from all the gloomy pile. It was
the student-lamp of the lonely lord of Riverton, who
was toiling in his chamber upon manuscripts which he
was desirous of completing before he once more—
perhaps for the last time—left his hall for the parti-
san wars.

Melancholy and manly beauty were pathetically
blended in the fine features of Guy Carlington. His
complexion was naturally rather dark, but he was
quite pale now from the severe course of study and
intr0spection to which he had devoted the five years
of physical inactivity and compulsory seclusion
which the cessation of open hostilities had entailed
upon him, or permitted him to enjoy, as. the case
might be.
rather than of suffering, had been the burden of those
five years. For he was a poet, in every sense of the
word, and his habits, even as a lad, had taught him
to love seclusion for its own silent sake. Perhaps he
had, at one time, dreamed of other fame than that
which waits upon the tickle fortune of the field. But
his was too loyal, too passionate a breast to seek in-
glorious repose or selfish ends when the land was
rocking with the tread of warring factions; and a.
father’s and a brother’s blood had reddened the
Puritan spear.

Mostprobably a species of pleasure,

   
  
 
 

  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
   

 

 
       
    
    
  
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

.31

   

TH E STUDENT.

  

Might there not have been another reason, more
cogent, indeed, than his poems and books, which
could serve to mitigate the dreariness of his seclu—
t sion? Gresham Grange was barely twelve miles
7 away; and an hour‘s hard gallop brought him to the
feet of one whose charms might well have roused the
poet from his dreams—the hermit from his prayers.
l The apartment was somewhat disordered, and
 sundry papers were scattered loosely over the table,
i .upon which Carlington now thoughtfiilly.propped
his head with his arm. . Elegance, but not splendor,
was the characteristic of his attire—the Cavalier cut,
and of faultless taste—while the broad lace collar
l and doublet cuffs were very white and clean. A
much different “manner of man ” was he from his
; madcap friend and merry follower, Ralph Raekett,
' of whom we have spoken. The long curls of his
black hair were orderly, but not, fastidiously arranged;
and the delicate line of his dark moustache was the
sole ornament of his sallow face. His form was full
of power; well-knit, firm, and perhaps a trifle above
the average hight. But it was now as gentle and
quiescent as the face; for Guy was buried in deep
thought, and apparently, for the moment, unconscious
"3 of his surroundings. He had finished his toil, as a
It large roll of ribboned manuscript on the table bore _
1t Witness, and now held loosely in his listless hand a l
n- single page of writing, which had probably had its
£18 influence in producing the reverie into which we find
3 him plunged. Most likely it was one of his olden
he poems into which he had woven a cherished fancy
)Qf his beloved :

Gh—p—UAF-V‘

flame“

 

 

 
 

1

i might be pregnant with meaning.

THE MESSEN! ER.

“ And, rising, from his bosom drew
Old letters breathing of her worth,
For ‘Iove,’ they said, ‘ must needs be trLe
To what is loveliest on earth.’ ”

At length, by the very intensity of the thougnts
which enthralled him, he seemed to escape from his
reverie, and once more perused the page in his hand,
with a quiver of emotion on his pale lips as he did
so. He then folded and placed it hastily away. He
also arose, gathered up the scattered papers, and de-
posited them in his secretary; after which he put on
his hat and cloak, hooked his sword to his belt, and
sauntered down in a meditative mood for a stroll on
the lawn.

The breeze had died away and the foliage of the
ancient trees was motionless in the moony night.
The Cavalier had hardly crossed the moat, when some-
thing caught his ear which roused him from his medi-
tation, and he listened eagerly, alert and active.
The time was full of danger, and the slightest sound
He had heard the
far-off hoof-beat of a coming steed. It grew louder
and louder, then crunched the gravel of the opposite
bank of the stream, and, an instant afterward, rung
clatteringly on the stone bridge below the lawn.

Guy’s apprehension had considerably abated .upon "
l the discovery, by the sound of the hoofs, that they

were but those of a single horse; but he nevertheless
drew his sword and sprung boldly into the avenue
to confront the stranger. Something like a feeling
of awe gathered about his heart, however, as he be-

held advancing toward him in the moonlight, with ‘

enormous strides, what appeared to be a. spectral

 

  
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
    
 
 

  

 
  

 
    

83

steed with an elfin rider. But he shook off the an.
' manly fleeling. , ’
“Halt!” he cried sternly, with leveled blade, his

THE MESSAGE.

  
    
     
   
    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

  

,  left hand grasping a pistol in his belt. r
;  The great white coarser was instantly reined up
,  l by the hand of his shadowy rider, whose youthful
1  “ appearance caused the Cavalier to return his weapon
3 , to its sheath, with a smile at his own apprehension.
b ,He now also recognized the steed, which had ap-
n ' ‘peared so ghostly in the moonlight, to be none other
a L than Charlotte Challoner’s favorite white Arab, by
n  / Whose side his own favorite charger had often our-
veted.

e “Whom seek you, my lad ?” asked the Cavalier.
t,“ ‘ “ Guy Carlington, of Riverton manor,” replied
e_ the youth, in a voice whose tones were as soft and
‘1' clear as a girl’s.

e. “ I am he,” said Carlington. “ But let me warn

K1 you that I serve the king.”
, “There is no need of such warning, sir Cavalier,”

2:: ‘ ‘ said the page, “as the nature of my warning will

te ; convince you, I fancy.”

1g “ Are you a messenger to me ?”

.u. “ Verin l”

on . .~ “ From whom?”

ey . “The mistress of Gresham Grange.”

ms “ What! Can it be? I was not aware she had a

“a .' page. Is the well ?——does she think of me? Oh,

“g speak—speakl this long absence, which I have been ,

be“ 'edmpelled to keep, has eaten into my heart!” I
1th , "‘ One question at a time, sir Cavalier,” said the
messenger, laughing. “And, as time is precious, I '

 

 
      
 

‘34»

, time to lose.”

THE MESSENGER.

must be brief. I am the page of the Lady Charlotte.
She is well. She thinks of you often—very often.
She has dispatched me on her own steed to give you
a warning which may saw: your life. You are in im-
minent peril. Colonel Challoner has dispatched thirty
troopers to seize you; and they started before I left
the Grange. You can judge, yourself, of their prox-
imity.” '

“ What is my crime?” .

“ You led the attack this morning on Cromwell’s
messengers ; Ralph Rackett was taken prisoner,
and—”

“ Ha ! Rackett betrayed me ?”

“ Not he; but Sergeant Prim recognized you;
and, if you remain here fifteen minutes longer, you
are lost. Hark! even now they are upon you!”
And they both could hear the rumble of the coming
troopers, which gathered louder as they listened.

“ You are right,” said Carlington; “there is no

He drew a small whistle from his bosom, and blew
a. shrill note.

“Hist! Will! Will!” he cried.

The whistle had scarcely died away, before a young
man glided around the ruined wing of the manor,
leaped into and out of the shallow, dry moat, in a
trice, and stood at his master’s elbow.

“ Saddle black Berry, and bring him here in a mo-
ment. Hurry! it’s life and death!” was the only order;
and the spry groom vanished as swiftly as he came.

The rider of the white stallion wheeled his steedi .
’ to depart.

    
   
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

I

N‘,

Mu...

\

thi

P, vel
' Ca'

 

 

 

THE TOKEN. 35

“ Farewell!” he cried; but hesitated in his saddle, .
and continued : “ My mistress also bade me say, that,
if you thought it not imprudent, she could bid you
good-by to—uight, in the little glen behind the
Grange.”

3 _ y, “ What time?”
'  p‘ “Midnight.”

For the first time a suspicion—not of the lady, but

of the messenger—flashed over Carlington’s brain.

 

5  He was as quick in deed as in thought, and now
3  Sprung forward and grasped the rider’s rein.
 ' “ Much as I should be enraptured and honored at
 being permitted to make this secret visit, my slendei
';  page, I must say that I now mistrust you. This might
"1 be a lure—a trap of the Puritans. Your messages
are strange and inconsistent. First, I am to fly from
[U

o  a coming foe. In the next breath, forsooth, I am to
approach the Roundhead nest itself!”

no i “ Alas! I see that my tale must sound strangely.
What can I do to convince you of my truth ?” sighed
3W . the page, in a sad voice.
“Did the lady give you no pledge—no token ?”
“Alas, no! Yet stay—look ! You should know
“‘5' this, if you love her as you say you do ?”
0", He held up his hand, and a diamond ring of mar
1 a

‘5‘ velous brilliancy flashed in the moonshine. _ Tht
' Cavalier bent low and kissed the ring devoutly.

110‘ “ It is enough,” he said. “ Forgive my suspicion
“31'; I shall fly to meet the lady at the little glen, and
me.

love will speed me to the appointed hour.”
“a. The small white hand trembled as the Cavalier
- touched the jewel once more with his lips; then,

 

 

    
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

‘\

- 'the' building.

THE MESSENGER.

wheeling the milk-white Boreas, he torched his flank
with his roweled heel, and they vanished in the gloom.

The trees had hardly hidden the fleetinghorseman
when Carlington’s groom led up his own charger-42.
black hunter, full of spirit and power. He made

haste to mount, for the hoof—heats of the coming

Roundheads sounded close at hand; in a few inn-i
ments they would be at the manor gate.

“I am pursued, Will. Make haste and lead all
the horses from their stalls to the deep thicket be
yond. If questioned, pretend utter ignorance of my
whereabouts.”

This was the Cavalier’s only injunction to his
groom, who touched his cap, in his respectful, silent-
way, and again started for the stables. Guy struck
spurs to his steed and rode away at a brisk pace—-
going up the stream instead of down, for he dared
not seek the bridge.

In a feW minutes the squadron of troopers came
thundering over the stream, and surrounded the
mansion.

“Keep your eyes skinned, everywhere!” bawled
the commander; “there may be sen‘et passages.
Knock at the gate, Sergeant Prim.”

Leaping from his horse, the parson-soldier went
over the moat, and thumped loudly at the gate with
his whip. For some time there was no answer; but

presently the querulons voice of an old woman in- .

quired the object of their summons, and was com-
.pelled to open the gate. A dozen men, with Prim
at their head, immediately rushed in and ransaeked

 

 

 
 

 

 

l.
I)
d,

 

mn ESCAPE. 87

“He has slipped through our fingers,” cried one
of them, returning from the search.

“ Yea, verily,” said Sergeant Prim ; “ the arch-fiend
hath befriended his chosen child, and the servants of
the Lord are defrauded of their prey. But 10! what
have we here?”

The last remark was occasioned by the appearance
of two troopers, with Carlington’s groom as a pris.
oner.

“ What is thy name, thou follower of the fiend ?”
continued the sergeant. '

“Will 0’ the \Visp.”

“ A right devilish name.

“In his doublet, I hope.”

“ Sirrah! dost thou dare to handy words with
me ?” cried l’rim, in a rage. “I will teach thee that

\Vhere is thy master?”

I, the doors of God’s bidding are not to he despised.”

“ Stand ofi‘, thou canting hypocrite!” said the
young fellow, firmly, as the other approached him
menacingly. “Thou wilt have it ‘3 Well, then, take
it!” and he struck the sergeant a tremendous blow
between the eyes with his fist, which laid him on his
hack—his sword and breastplate rattling like a tin-

_ kettle as he went down.

“Seize that man! seize him!” cried the captain;
while a dozen soldiers rushed forward to avenge the
sergeant’s fall. ‘

But they were now in front of a ruined portion 01
the manor ; and, as they came tovard him, the young
I, man sprung back and vanished among the pillars

\Which composed the ruin; nor were the most pen-

listent efforts to retake him availing.
_ 4 2

 

 

do THE MESS ENGER.

Maddened by the blow he had received, Prim
begged the captain to fire the building, which the
latter, however, sternly refused to do. N or. a word
of information could be extorth from the old W0-
man; and, after an hour of fruitless search, the
soldiers grumblineg set out on their return to the

 Grange.

r

 

 

THE BLUE DRAGON.

CHAPTER IV.

THE \VAYSlllE INN.

DUKE. Who keeps this tavern, slrrah't

GROOM. A thief, my lord.

DUKE. Tell me his name?

Gnoom. He hath none, noble duke. The waiters are pick-
poekets, the hostlers highwaymnn,smd all the—

DUKE. No matter. I will omen—OLD PLAY.

A STRANGELY uncomtortnble, rickety, tumble-
clown, dingy, out-of-the-way, unhospitnble-looking
place was the Blue Dragon Inn, situated in a. remote,

lonesome corner of the shire, on the now almost un-

traveled by-road which ran from Riven-ton to Gre-
‘ sham Grange, and about three miles from the hitter
place. Indeed, so miserable was the lonely inn, and
so surly and extortionate the proprietor, Peter Bunce,
that some of the Puritan oiiicers, who had made it
their head-quarters for lack of room at the Grange,
had found the desolateness unbearable, and beaten a
hasty retreat to the fin‘m-houses in the vicinity. 0n
the very verge of the forest, it was also an object of
suspicion to the passing traveler, and quite sugges-
tive of being a convenient rendezvous for thieves and
freebooters. But, upon the night in which our story
i is still immersed, the Blue Dragon had a. more con
vivial appearance than usual. Guy Cau‘lingtou was

j~galloping toward it, when the sounds of revelry

 

‘Lreaehed his ear——ribald songs and boisterous mirth—v '

 

 

\

 

' dently with little effect.

  

40‘

THE MESSENGER.

l

and he saw the window of the tap-room brilliant!

Illuminated. '
“ The devil choke them!” he muttered; “ they will

bring the whole rebel crew upon our heads with their

drunkenness and folly.”
“ Pass the wine, brave boys, the wine;
Away with melancholy!
Here's Peggy, Nelly, Eveline.
Sweet Meg and tender Molly!
Then huzzal huzza! huzza!
We’ll drown the world in folly !”

Some such acatch as this, half unintelligible for the
oaths and yells that interlardcd it, and followed by a
jingling of cans and still more uproar-ions mirth,
came out to the approaching Cavalier.

“ Rackett must have made his escape,” he mut—
tered. “That song was his, if I mistake not.”

He leaped from his steed and entered the inn.

“Shame, gentlemen, shame l” he said, reprovingly.
“ Is this a time for such unseemly mirth? “'ould
you bring the Commonwealth about your ears ?”

The bar-room of the tavern was occupied by up-
ward of a dozen Cavaliers, who were eating and
drinking, and the host himself, a large, burly fellow,
half-poacher, halfl'highwayman, with a red nightcap
on his head, was endeavorin g to quiet the disturbance,
with the assistance of his pretty daughter, but evi-
Bnt the entrance of their
leader had shamed some of the tipsy Cavaliers into
silence, and Ralph Rackett staggered up to him in
an explanaturv nu‘

“me an \nw}. “gm, Carlington. They’re only
(hie) celebrating my return (hie) from captivit‘y, you
know (hie.)" 

 
 

 

t-

7.

 

A RO'YSTERING CREW.

i " Home from prison among the Jews—-

i Tra 1a, tra la, tra 11 oh!

A dead man now would have stood in my shoes
If I hadn’t—”

“ Is thy skull utterly vacant, thou brawling drunk-
ard ?” interrupted Carlington, sternly. “ Speak sense,
i if thou hast it. How didst thou escape?”

“By the help of my lady’s page,” replied Ralph,
endeavoring to look serious. Not an hour ago, the
little monkey threw something into the infernal dun-
geon where they had me locked, andthat something
proved to be a key, Wherewith I opened the door,
helped myself to the best horse in the Gresham
stables, and here I be—

“ Ready for this or that, my lad,
With sword or pistol, gun or spear;
A footpad or a smuggler, friend,
But always a Cavalier!
Atrender of air, or n. (levilnmay-care,
But always a Cavalier !”
“ Did you get any information at the Grange ?”
“ Yes. The king has prohuhly come to buy at
Worcester, and Cromwell will attack him some time
during the present week.”
“ We must- be there—we must be there!” mut-
tered Carlington, pacing the floor thoughtfullyi
“ What is the hour ?”
f “ Twenty minutes to midnight,” said the hqst,
turning to the hour-glass.
The Cavalier prepared to proceed to the little
, glen.
\ “I shall be back before morning, Rackett,” said
he, “ and by noon we must be on the war-path. Po
7' tor, for the sake of the king, endeavor to keep them

 

 
   

\\

  

 
 

  

42 THE MESSENGER.

quiet till I return,” he added, addressing the inn-
keeper, and then departed.

‘The thicket in which the Lady Charlotte was to
meet her lover was scarcely a bow-shot from the rear
wall of the Grange, but so very dense and deep
that its seclusion was almost perfect. But it was
quite small—a mere clump of oaks—with a narrow '
place cleared in the center, wherein a bower had beer. l
overrun with clematis and wild woodbine for nany
a bright summer; and a rustic bench encircled the
giant trunk of an oak a few paces from the arbor.
Upon this rustic seat the heavily-cloaked figure of a
woman was seated in the moonlight, which still
drifted through the branches above. It was the
figure of Charlbtte Challoner. Although she well
remembered the hour she had herself appointed, her
love and her anxiety for her lover’s safety had
weighed so heavily upon her heart, that, long before
the time, shelhad seated herseit’ in the thicket to
await his coming. She had started at every sound
in hope that it was his footstep, and now her anx-
iety became distressing, as she knew that the ap-
pointed time was close at hand. Once, indeed, a
heavy step approached. She shrunk into the deep
I recess of the leafy arbor to see the gaunt figure of
Sergeant Prim stalk along the path in a meditative ,
mood, and. humming a surly hymn. But he had .3
passed without suspecting the lady’s presence, and) 
she had again been-left alone—~alone with the doubts’ ‘
and misgivings of her own sad heart. .She did, not
fear that Carlington would deem her midnight tryst'
‘ with. him unmaidenly Orlunseemly. She-knew

 

 

   

 

 

rm: APPOINTMENT. w

"him too well for that—she felt that he knew her too
Well to be otherwise than gladdened at the daring
strength of her pure affection for him. But oh!
what a load of anxiety now pressed upon her breast.
Why did he not come? He might have been way-
laid——-wounded. She shuddered at the thought, and
glanced around despairingly. Something rustled

-along the path. She listened eagerly. It was a
footstep—a step whose manly stride she could not
mistake.

“ There glides a step through the foliage thick,
And her cheek grows pale—and her heart beats quick.
There whispers a voice through the rustling leaves,
And her blush returns, and her bosom heaves:
A moment more—and they shall meet-
".l‘is past—her lover‘s at her feet I"

It was indeed so.

“ Charlotte, my own Charlotte 1” exclaimed the
Cavalier, springing toward her.

“Guy, dear Guy!” and the maiden sunk upon his
breast, with a sigh of relief and joy. “Oh, how I
have suffered with anxious waiting! How long you
have been 2” she continued, looking up from his
strong caress into his happy face. .

“ It is the precise hour to a moment. I could
.come no sooner, dearest!” he murmured, in reply, at

‘ the same time pressing his trembling lips to her

swimming eyes and pouting mouth. “ I grieve that
you have been pained with waiting. Forgive
me!” «
“Nay, I did not mean to chide. W'hatsoevel‘ I
lsufi'ered, I am the happier for it now. Oh, I am so
5 happye—so happy l” she repeated, her exquisite accepts

      
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 

  

 
   

- 44 'THE MESSENGER.

 

   
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
   
   
 

‘ mellowed by emotion, and her head again drooping
fondly on his breast.

He sat down with her on the rustic seat, still press-
ing her closer to him, and for a while the united
lovers were silent. For there are some brief Ino-
ments in the history of the human heart—some holy,
rapturous moments, when the eloquence of the feel-
ings is too deep, too divine, for aught of expression
beyond the religious silence of absolute bliss. And
some such moments now sped on their noiseless
pinions through the little glen. Guy looked upon
the fair bright head that was pillowed on his bosom
with a joyous speechlessness, and his eyes were not
devoid of tears. And she—her eyes were closed, but
she felt that bosom heave against her own, and a
dreamful languor, born of rupture, crept about her
heart and stilled its wild pulsations. At length she
looked up.

“ You are well?” she said.
well?”

“ Oh, yes 1” he murmured.
darling well?”

She put up her pretty lips for an answer.

“ You are safe and

“And you? Is my

“ To on and our courao‘eous a re do I
a la
God bless you

/ continued.
'owe my safety— perhaps my life.
\both.
him better, and thank him more fully than I was per-
mitted to do.”

Charlotte hesitated in her reply.
“ It is a desire of my page,” she said, “ that his
name should be kept a secret, at present, from all

“ And if I am safe, it was you that saved me,” he K

Who is this page, my love? I would know .

    

 

 

 

MEETING OF THE LOVCvZ.. 45

save myself; and I have granted his wish. 'Trust
him, however, my love, and he may be of future ser-
vice in this troublous time. tode he not white
Boreas bravely ?”

“Right gallantly !” replied the Cavalier. “ 1’ faith,

he seemed a spirit of the clouds upon the giant

steed! But tell me, love, how goes it- with your
Roundhead lodgers?”

“ I am soon to be rid of them all, I hope. Their
horses are almost destroyed with their late gallops
over the northern hills, and I believe their masters
will remain until the day after to-morrow. Upon

that day my brother intends to start southward,‘

picking up all the little garrisons on his way, when
he will probably reach General Cromwell, with con-

siderable reenforcements, in time for the great attack‘

Guy—you will not go? You
Pray tell me that

against the king.
will not join the king this time ?
you will not!”
“I can not tell you so, my sweet.
tne king,” said Carlington, in a sad, but steady voice.
“ Oh, if I should lose you, Guy—if you should be
slain 1” she faltered, turning pale. “ Remain, Guy.

Your single arm can avail little.”

3

“ Lady,” said the Cavalier, rising, and drawmg up
his manly person to its full hight, “ your counsel is
such I little love to hear, even though it fall from

your own peerless lips. In times like these, a. single\

arm may turn the battle’s reddest tide ; and, even if
it were of little moment, could my honor survive, if

_ - I should forsake my king ? Could you love a craven,
‘ "Charlotte ?” i

For I must join ,

    

 

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
  
   

 

  

46 THE MESSENGER.

Love and pride were contending in her breast.
She hung her head but made no audible response.

' “ A rusty blade hath a poorexeuse in these days,”
he continued. “ Bid me to the battle, Charlotte, if
you truly love me—if you love the king. Bid me
go forth, not stay.”

Her hesitation was over; and she fell upon his
breast with tremulous sobs. I
“You are right, Guy! Go,” she cried, through
her fast-falling tears. “ Go forth, and God will de-
fend you, I know. You will forgive my weakness,
darling, but I am so miserly of your image—I so

board you in my heart 1”

“ Forgive you! forgive you l” he murmured fondly,
his warm breath wandering through her hair. “ Nay,
forgive me for my harshness, my sweet angel. Be-
lieve me, I shall battle braver for your God-speed to
the field. And soon—ah I soon—”

“Hush ! quick! quick! you are in peril!” She
had placed her hand on his lips, and, seizing his arm,
pulled him deep into the dense wood, for steps were
heard approaching. "

The concealment was not effected a moment too
soon, for the next instant Sergeant Prim, with four
soldiers at his heels, came into the opening, cautiously
and pryineg picking his way along the narrow path.
Carlington considered himself as good as captured,
when, a. few seconds later, another soldier appeared,
leading his own black Berry by the bridle.

“ They have found your horse in the thicket, and
are now upon your track,” Whispered Charlotte, with
quivering lips.

 

 

  

,1,.

 

SEARCH on I'm]; 'rmcxm. 47

“Hush! and do not fear,” Whispered Carlington. -

The Roundheads explored the arbor with drawn
swords, and peered into the thicket around them
with searching eyes.

“He must be further on,” said Prim, in a low
. Voice.

“Are you sure he’s in the thicket, sergeant?”

v asked one of the men.

“ Sure, ninny ! Heardst thou not voices a moment
ago? and have we not his steed? Rest assured we
have the blasphemer in the toils. Forward now, and
softly!”

One after another they vanished down the dark
path that continued its penetrating way into the
thicket.

“You must have another horse,” said Charlotte,
calm and resolute now, as the danger was so close at
hand. “ You shall have Boreas.”

“How brave you are, my noble girl!” said Car-
lington. “ You are worthy to be a monarch’s bride.
Well, if I must rob you of the stallion for a little
while, so be it. i know his stable well, and will im-
mediately go for him.”

“ No—it would be madness!” she exclaimed.
“‘Vithout a doubt, the wood is surrounded. I alone

I must go for the stallion.”

“ Impossible, Charlotte! I will not hear of it;
Hist—I have it!” said he. “ Send the Page.”

She hesitated.

“ You speak wisely,” at length she said. “I will
go for him this instant.”

She started away, but his soft touch detained hon

 

    

48 THE MESSENGER.

“ A moment l” he whispered, with tremor in his
tones. “ This is our last meeting. We may—never
w—meet—again 1”

She sprung into his arms.
clinging kiss.

“ Along, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love,
And beauty, all concentrating like rays
Into one focus, kindled from above;
Such kisses as belong to early days,
Where heart, and soul, and sense in concert move,

And the blood's lava, and the pulse ablaze,
Each kiss a heart-quake.”

“ Farewell!”

“ Farewell 1”

And they tore away from each other.

Pale with the “ heart-quake,” Charlotte trusted
herself not to throw a glance behind, but made all
haste toward the Grange; while Carlington crept to
the edge of the thicket, whence he could see the
house, now hushed and lightless except by the moon,

Their lips met in a

and watched her fleeting form. If there were sen:

tinels posted around the wood, she escaped them,
and, in a few moments, entered the Grange. The
door by which she entered was one by the side, and
gave admittance to no portion of the Grange but the
apartments occupied by the lady. It was, therefore,
with mingled emotions that the Cavalier witnessed

,the page issue from this very door a few minutes.

after the lady’s entrance. Why was it necessary
that the handsome boy should be in Charlotte’s
private rooms? A sudden jealous pang darted to
Carlington’s heart. With a strange misgiving he
recollected that Charlotte had declined to' speak of

this page’s history or name. Stifling these unworthy , p

 
   

_»..,.__:._ ._ g,

 

 

CARLINGTON DISCOVERED. ‘ 49
!

thoughts with some difficulty, he watched the youth .
until he reached the path which led to old Larry’s
cottage, when he was rapidly lost in the forest.

Some time elapsed, when, wearying of waiting for
the page, and not apprehending danger, ‘the Cavalier
retraced his steps toward the arbor. But scarcely
had he shown himself in the moonlighted opening,
when Prim and his followers sprung upon him from
their ambush.

“ Ha l” exelaimed Carlington, drawing his sword.
“ Come on, dastards I vermin !”

“ Seize the rcviler! Slay him, if he resists!”
bawled the sergeant, dancing around to get in a
stroke.

The foremost trooper rolled to the dust, the strong
blade of the Cavalier piercing his breastplate like a.
pumpkin-rind, and the vigorous back-hand motion of
the sword-hilt, as the blade was wrenched from the
wound, caught the psalm-singing sergeant in the jaw
with a momentum that sent him reeling back a dozen
paces, leaving Guy to play upon the next and nearest
opposing blade. But the attacking party were six
in all, and the remainder closed upon him with des-
perate thrusts. To add to these overwhelming odds,
an unlucky twig caught the Cavalier's foot, which
brought him stumbling to his knees.

“Die, wretch! Die, reviler l” exclaimed the infuri

_ ated sergeant, Springing at his throat.

But there was suddenly a great tramping through
the narrow path, and the towering white stallion,
with his black-clad rider, burst into the Opening like
an avcnging specter. Seized with a. superstitieu

 

    
   

50 THE MESSENGER.

terror, the men-at-arms flung down their weapons
and fledin dismay; while the short hair of the Round-
head sergeant fairly lifted his skull-cap with excess
of fear.

“The Pale Steed and his demon rider!” be ex- ‘

claimed, lifting his hands to heaven, and following
his comrades with the speed of the guilty pursued.

Carlington laughed heartily at this sudden change
of fortune.

“Are you wounded asked the page.

“ Not a scratch,” was the reply. “ But you were
in the nick of time to save me. Another instant,
and that canting vagaboud would have cut my
throat. What! Berry, my boy, I have thee once
more!” he exclaimed, turning to his recaptured
charger, which the Rouudheads had abandoned in
their flight.

“This is excellent fortune,” said the page.
my services are no longer needed.
danger. Farewell!”

“Stay!” criel Carlington; but the white steed
plunged into the narrow bridle-path again, and the
page was swiftly borne from his view.

“Deuce take it!” grumbled the Cavalier; “must
I be twice saved from death without thanking my
preserver, or even seeing his face distinctly ?”

But there was no help for it now; so be mounted
black Berry, and took the opposite path, leaving
nothing behind hut some scattered weapons and a
dead Roundhead.

on

“ But
You are out of

   
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

.~

 

i , e

ran TRAVELING NOTARY. ‘ 51

one
.nd-
:ess
ex i V I“
“‘8‘; 7 CHAPTER V.
“1' 1 THE BLUE DRAGON AGAIN.
We ' .
a I Yes, yes! if he be weak, a cripple, starved
, And small, advance upon him bravely ; rush
Upon him, spit him, spit him like a frog.
l . But look you, master, if he come right blithesome.
’1 6 Gay. equal-weaponed, show him your buck, man,
1t, Mount Sliank’s mare—play with your heels; there's naught
1y So wholesome, skin-preserving, sweet.—T1m Foor.’s ADVICE.
w I IT was not far from daybreak, as the tired lord of
,d Riverton once more approached the crazy portals of
in the Blue Dragon Inn. The house was quiet now.
The hostler would very probably take care not to
m hear him if he called, so he turned groom for himself
)f and gave his horse the best food and shelter which
the wretched tavern-stable afi‘orded. Then, pushing
d into the tap-room, on the floor of which Rackett
e and his boon companions were sleeping elf their
heavy potations at a very laborious and not very
t musical rate, he threw himself on a bench, and was

’soon fast asleep.

It was not early morning when the tavern was ,
L . awake. In fact, its host would have slumbered a 5
good hour longer had it not been for a sturdy thump«
ing at the tap-room door by a traveling notary, who
” demanded admittance and a. hearty breakfitst after
his long ride. The landlord admitted him  a_
sleepy yawn, and proceeded to wake up the 393118???

 

 

‘ 52 THE MESSENGER.

forms of the slumbering Cavaliers, who, one by one,

arose, not a. whit the clearer headed for their night’s\- ‘

carouse, but with appetites whetted for drink and
food.

“The foul fiend seize thee, thou intruding vaga-

. bond 1” growled Ralph Rackett, stretching himself,
and propping his giddy head on his elbow, at the
same time eyeing the stranger with much distrust.
“Thou art a Roundhead; speak, what dost thou
here?”

The traveler certainly was of suspicious personal
appearance. His lean, tall figure was invested with
a suit of rusty brown, closely fitting, and of the
plainest Puritan out. His high peaked hat slouehed
so low upon his ears as to give him the appear:an

of having no hair at all—so closely was his bullet— v

head shaven ; a pair of enormous green goggles con-
cealed his eyes, which must have been too villainous
to disclose. Added to this, a broad strip of black
court-plaster almost covered one side of his jaw,
disfiguring him in a painful manner. An appearance
of extreme trepidation pervaded his demeanor, which
might have been either real or affected; and he made
no answer to Rackett’s rude questioning. ,
“ If thou wilt not speak, thou shalt drink wit
‘ me I” cried the latter, staggering to his feet. “ Gin 2
.Peter, gin ! Come, lads, let’s make the Roundhead
‘ drunk!”

The unhappy Puritan threw up his hands with a 5'

holy horror at this proposition, but the rioters sur-
rounded him with laughter and cheers, and forced
him to the counter-

 

 

 
   

 
    

 
  

33'
:ll‘,
he
st.
on

F...”

j!

 

 

   
 

 
 

  

53

 

THE ROUNDHEAD AND THE PUILIS‘I'INES.

’ “ The Lord deliver me from the Philistiues l”
groaned the notary, in a feigned voice. “ I protest,
gentlemen, against this saerilege! I dare not touch
the seductive beverage. It is the devil’s w1ne.”’

“ Ha! ha! Push him the bottle, Molly!” laughed

w Harry Merton, only second to Ralph himselfin devil-

try. “These Roundhead priests are as pious as
hyenas in public, while they drink their heads off
behind the screen.”

“Yes, he shall drink, or be sensed in the horse-
pond l” cried another.

“ But I protest! gentlemen, I protest against this
imrighteous—”

“ Ply him! ply him well l” bowled Rackett.

“ The Roundheads love to revel,
Behind the screen, at least;
The stranger is the devil,
And the devil is a. priest."

But Carliugton, who had set apart enjoying the
joke thus far, now came forward.

“Nay! nay!” he s:iid;.“ the gentleman shall not
drink against his desire. Release him, friends. In .
lieu of the liquor, I move that he pray for us,” he
continued, compussionating the notary, yet not wish-
ing to deprive the Cavaliers of their merriment
altogether.

“Good! goodl the best joke of the season
cried the merry crew.

“ David seized his harp and swept
J ehovah’s praise, but could not play
For gazing at the Hebrew maid
Who showed her ankles o’er the way.”

Chanted the incorrigible Ruckett, imitating the nasal
twang of the dissenters’ choirs.

I”

  

 

 
 

b4 _ THE MESSENGER.

’But the Roundhead was far less averse to praying
than to drinkino‘. Indeed, he complied with readi-
ness and energy, praying in the stentorian tones and
extravagant rhetoric of his order, and-not neglecting
to have his revenge upon his tormentors by interlard-
ing his sermon with the most violent abuse of king
Charles, and the most exuberant eulogy of the Round-
head Chieftains, from General Cromwell to Praise:
God-Barebones; so that they were well content to
leave him in peace when he had finished his discourse.

Pretty Molly soon covered the board with a better
repast than the appearance of the tavern would have
led one to expect; and, after hastily devouring his
portion, the Roundhead notary paid the landlord an
extortionate price without grumbling, mounted his
horse—a sorry, bony cob of unreckoned antiquity—-
and pursued his way tl’irough the forest, unmolested.

Carlington had writing to do, and messengers to
dispatch to different points, where the Cavaliers were
mustering through the country, which occupied an-
other hour. Raekett and his eonfreres sauntcred out
on the green in front of the inn and annihilated the
time with the dice-box or fencing-foils. Guy had no
plan of operation which he could put in practice till
he received further advices from the country round,
so, having finished his writing and dispatched his
messages, he also sauntered out upon the lawn.

The noisy crew were gathered about the dice-
board, and Rackett and Merton were wrangling
loudly over the game. Guy turned away from them
.with a sick, lonesome feeling about his heart. While
he could not but despise the reckless, dissipated

  

 

  

 

 

 
   

THE FOE. AT HAND. 55

manners of his followers, he was too philosophical not
to discover in the times, the conflicts, and the atmos~
phere of contention in which they lived, the cause of
their immorality; and he could not but pity while
he despised. An exclamation from one of the game-
sters caused him to turn quickly.

“ God’s blood! what have we here

“ The Lady Charlotte’s white stallion, by all that’s
holy!” exclaimed llackett. “And how well that
little devil sits him.”

In another instant the fleet steed halted before the
group. I

“ You shall not escape my gratitude this time, at
least!” cried Guy, running up and catching the youth
by the hand.

He could now see under the slouchhat plainly, too.
A face of exquisite beauty had the page. His cheek
had the softness and bloom of a woman’s, the eyes
were large, lustrous and silken fringed, and there
was no telling how the jet—black moustache grew so ‘
luxuriantly from his short, curling lip. IIe blushed
like a. girl beneath the scrutinizing gaze of the Cava-
lier, and received the thanks which were showered
upon him passively and uneasily.

“ What is the occasion of this visit, my friend ?”
said Guy.

“ More danger,” replied the youth “ There are
but a few moments to spare,” he continued, hurriedly.
“ A traveler stopped at the inn, this morning, did he
not ?”

“Yes; a poor devil of a. notary, who—”
“ He was no notary.”

on

  

56,
“ What then?” ~

“ Sergeant Prim, in disguise!”

“ The devil!”

Astonishment was depicted on the faces of the
Royalists. Ralph Rackett fairly danced upon the
sward with rage and mortification.

“The infernal, lying, pop—eyed, psalm—singing
hypocrite! The crop-cared, brown-legged, devil-
serving—”

“For heaven’s sake, gentlemen, do not loiter!
The spy was sent by Colonel Challoner, and the whole
gang—nearly fifty—led by the colonel himself, are
barely five minutes behind me. Farewell!” And,
with this parting injunction, the messenger wheeled
his steed, and plunged into an obscure bridle-path,
and vanished.

THE MESSENGER.

“ Let us appropriate one of our five minutes’ grace ‘

to deliberation, gentlemen,” said Carlington, calmly.
“ There are two modes to pursue. The one is to barri-
cade the inn and trust to our carbines ; the other is
to get to horse. What is your vote ?”

"The saddle! the saddle! Let us fight on horse-
back !” cried the Cavaliers in concert.

“ That is my choice, also,” said the captain.
“Away! Lose not an instant.”

A few moments of confusion and hustle, and the
Cavaliers—eighteen in all—were in the saddle.

Carlington’s clear voice rungr out sharply:

“Form in line—forward! Trot out!” and away
they went down the road at a break-neck canter.

But the pursuers were so close upon them that

they caught a glimpse of .the flying band before it; 

    

 
   

A

P.:Ah-4m'7-i"l

 

 

  

 

. FLIGHT AND PURSUIT. 57

could turn the angle of the hilly road. A fierce
shout arose from the rebel troopers, and they pressed
forward like an avalanche.
“ How many do you make of them, Rackett ?”
said Carlington, to his lieutenant.
“ Fully fifty,” replied the latter, turning in his sad-
dle as he rode, and looking back. I
“Can we keep them at this distance for a mile ?” ‘
. “ Yes; I have it——-you intend to make a stand at
Deep Dingle ?”
“ Yes; if we reach it.”
“ Huzzah l” shouted the madcap. “ Wq’re to meet \ ;
them, lads l”

“ Sword's point! sword’s point! one and all!
Firm in the saddle, lads! wait the call!
Think of your sweethearts fondly!
Slash, slash ! one—two—three!
Our hearts may bleed, but our souls are free-
Give it the rascals-soundly !”

A gallant cheer saluted the stirring ditty, and the
_ Cavaliers spurred deeper for the promised goal.
Deep Dingle, as it was called, was a heavy-wooded
ravine between the hills, well calculated for defense
m a case like this, where horsemen were combatants;
and the interval—say a quarter of a mile—w as
pretty well preserved between pursuers and pursued
‘ when the latter reached the dingle, and made a sud.
(den halt. -
 “Quick, Merton!” cried the captain; “dismount,
 with six men, and fill the road with brushwood and
I’ rails.” ‘
I . Prompt to the command, the officer and his as-
"  Iistants leaped from their'steeds, and, in a moment,

 

 

  

 

58 THE MESSENGER.

had piled a formidable breastwork across the narrow I

road. v
—.-“ Remount‘! be lively l” was the command. “Sink d
deep into the thicket—look to your flints—and wait 6‘
the word ! But let no man fire at Colonel Challoner, g
on his life.” ti

A yell of rage burst from the foremost of the
Roundheads, as they beheld their path obstructed. 3‘
n

“ Its nothing but brush—you can ride through it
—-forward !” shouted the passionate voice of Chal-
loner.

“Forward, children of the Lord!” echoed the
stentorian tones of Sergeant Prim, and, himself in .
the advance, the front of the column dashed against 3
the brush. But the breastwork only lacerated the
horses’ legs and would not give way. And here the
very numbers of the Roundheads proved a disad-
vantage to them. For the rear merrat—arms came
crowding down upon their companions, who were.
huddled before the obstruction, confusion ensued,
and, in a few seconds, the steep, narrow path of the
dingle was jammed to sufl‘bcation with a struggling 1
mass of frightened steeds, and struggling, swearing , ,3
troopers. ’ '

“Look to your flints! Steady, lads l” rung out

' the clear voice of Carlington above the din. “ Steady =
-—~_fire I” I
I, The effect was tremendous. A simultaneous vol~
ley leaped from the covert of the eighteen Cavaliers!
So close were the quarters, so solid the rebel ranks, 1
that hardly ‘a bullet was wasted. Seven or eight 
Ioldiers rolled from their beasts, Prim had a ban, 

_4_“IAH

 
 

 

   
 

    

  

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ink
'ait
ier,

it
al.

he
in
1813
he
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2' whirl kept them apart; and Guy just wheeled his

THE VICTORY OF DEEP DING-LE. 59

in his left arm, and there was nothing but confusion
worse confounded in the Rebel ranks. A few ran-

' dom shots were fired at the Cavaliers, but without

effect. The few who could escape from the entan-
gling mass, were galloping out of the dingle, as best

7 they might, in a panic of fear.

“Load again! Lookto your flints! Steady, men,
steady!” shouted that ringing voice again. “ Steady,
now—fire!”

Again the dingle echoed to the rolling report, and
the death-dealing volley was poured into the strug-
gling,shrieking mass, with the same terrible efi‘eet.

“Back—back, for your lives!” cried Challoner,
almost beside himself with rage and mortifieation.
“, Back, or you’ll all be slaughtered like calves !”

Seconded by his ofiicers and the brave Prim, he
made superhuman efforts to bring order from the
chaotic mass; but in vain. A panic had seized them.
Frantic terror or stolid stupefiwtion made them an
easy prey. Once more the mortal fire of the car-
bines scattered death through the Rebel ranks, if
ranks they could now he called, when the order was
given for a charge. Leaping from their saddles, a
few of the Cavaliers tore the breastwork away, and,

' with a Wild and ringing cheer, they rushed upon the
, terror-smitten ranks, with bright swords gleaming

in the sunlight. But a dozen or so of the enemy
(principally oflicers) could still make a good fight,
and it was no tame slaughter.

Challoner spurred toward Carlington with the fe-
rocity of a. wild beast, but an eddy in the fierce

 

  

60

THE MESSENGER.

horse in time to save Ralph Rackett, who had imme-
diately tackled the long sergeant, but was now at his
mercy, with a broken sword. Down on the steel-cap
of the sergeant, with the force of a bolt from heaven,
descended Carlington’s blade, and, though the skull-
: cap glanced the blow, Prim fell forward on his horsels
neck, almost stupefied with its power, and spurred
away with a broken head. At length, however, the

proud colonel was compelled to withdraw, with such ‘

of his uninjured men as could be collected ; but those

of his band whom he left in the dingle were either ‘

dead or wounded.

The tradition, as well as history, of the terrible
carnage of Deep Dingle, may still often be met with
among the simple country people of this portion of
N orthumberland ; and it is, no doubt, regarded as a

Thermopylae by them. Of the fifty-seven horsemen V

who entered the dingle in pursuit of Captain Curling-
ton’s band, only thirty-one escaped death, and only
fourteen left the glen uninjured.

Bitter, indeed, must have been the mortification of
‘ Robert Challoner as he rode back to the Grange
with his pitiful remnant of troopers. It is a portion
of the tradition, that, for three days, he uttered no
word to any human being ; giving his orders in writ-
ing, and eating his meals in the solitude of his cham-
her.

The victorious Cavaliers, of whom but one of their
number was hurt, and he but slightly, dared not re-
main in the vicinity, but continued their course to
me westward. '

 
   

 

 

 
  

 
 

  

 
 

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If.
D

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

THE MARCH FOR WOCESTER.

CHAPTER VI.

FORWARD TO JOTN’ THE KING.

Boot, boot into the stirrup, lads,
And hand once more on rein;

Up, up into the saddle, lads,
Atleld we ride again!

One cheer—one cheer for dame or door!
No leisure now to sigh—

God bless them 1111 ! we have their prayers,
And they our liearts—" Good-by l’

Off, off we ride in reckless pride,
As gallant troopers may,

Who have old scores to settle, and
Long slashing swords to pay l—Mo'rumcwrzma.

THERE were few bulletins in those days, but the

> news of the splendid little victory of Deep Dingle

flashed over the country in one way or another, to
the joy of the king-lovers and the mortification of
his foes. It doubtless gluddened the heart of the
anxious prince himself, where he was being sur-
rounded by Cromwell at or near Worcester, in the

_ south of England; and Carlington’s name was high

in the chosen circles.
The heroes, in the mean time, continued theirroute
. . . . \
through the mljoming Sllll‘CS and towns where the

g sentiment for the king was strong and honest, pick-

ing up reénforcements wherever they paused, so that: ,

. at the end of the second day after the fight, Carling-
‘ton found himself at the head of two hundred

 

  

     
 
       
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
       
      
   
   

THE MESSENGER.

to their chief. 4 Not daring to delay longer, for fear 
that Cromwell would attack the king before he could *—
join him at ‘Vorcester, Carlingtou now set forth for so
the long ride of little less than one hundred and
eighty miles.
It happened, also, that, on this very day, Colonel
Challoner, who had likewise, by this time, mustered -B'
a considerable force, in spite of his bloody disaster, ll"?
set out to join Cromwell, with orders to make all as
speed. i .f‘”
The road was a long and weary one for the Cav-
aliers. For Cromwell held the direct line southward, m
and a circuitous route was compulsory with Carling— 0"
ton, who was in imminent danger of beingr cut off '
and surrounded by superior numbers. He therefore 3'
went more westerly from his course than he would 81
otherwise have done. .ludieiously choosing the I a
shortest circuitous route, he. moved to Ilarrowgate, w
a small town in the \VcstRiding of Yorkshire, thence ‘
through Halifax, Hadderstield and Oldham to Man- t
. Chester—with the Roundhead garrison of which he ' “
had a. slight skirmish—and thence gained Chester, ,h‘
crossing and reerossiuror the \Velsh border to the 01d h
town of Shrewshury. The distance from Shrewa- ._. ‘31
bury to Worcester is scant fifty miles, by the west— . L.
erly and shortest route; but so fatigued were their -
‘ horses that a rest at the former place became an ab-
\ solute necessity. In the mean time, Colonel Chal-,
loner had united his forces with those of the Rebel~
General at Derby, and was pushing on with the main '.
body to the attack. But the devoted Royalist did not
despair. Twelve hours rest at Shrewsbury, and My '

 

  

 
 

POSITIQN OF THE FOE.

Was again on the war-path, reaching Wolverhampton
‘é—thirty-five miles from VVorcester—by daybreak of
September 3, 1651.

4 News came up to him here that the hostile cohorts
5Were advancing to the shock of battle, and he hesi-
Ltated not to push forward with all possible speed.
oBut u'pon reaching the little village of Stourport,
3r, Lbarely twelve miles from \Vorcester, on the same
all day, he was confronted by a regiment of Rebel in-
‘fantry, and at once prepared for battle.

(v. "i The ground was an open plain. The Roundheads,
.(1, under Colonel Challoner’s immediate connnand, 00-
g- cupied a slight eminence, and formed in solid pha-
)fl‘ ‘ lanx to await the cavalry charge. Their leader had
re  a vein of keen shrewdness running through his hot-
“ ‘spur madness. Well knowing the fierce temper of

,e the Cavalier troopers, he was confident that they

9’, 'Would attempt to ride down his infantry. Ilis pre-

39 cautions were, therefore, well taken.

k A ditch, skillfully concealed by masses of brush-

‘wood, with a thin layer of turf or sod, and further

1., hidden by the nature of the ground, was between

d him and the foe, while the broad, flowing current of

3. b the Severn river securely protected his left. Thus in-

‘ ‘ .trenched, he coolly and confidently awaited the attack.

A’ As for Carlington, with his unequal force, though

*he decided on a charge, it was not a decision rash‘ly 1
made. What other course was left him? Theiking
might, at that moment, be engaged with the supe-
rior hosts of Cromwell. There was but one route to
Worcester, and that was blocked by Challonerls
— veterans. They held the bridge by which he must

3111'
11d
for
nd

  
    
   
  
 

 

 
 
   
   
 

 

  
 

  

04, THE mnssnsann.

cross the Severn; the entire country around was
hostile to the king‘s cause. What was he to do?
He deliberated earnestly with himself, and reluct-

antly came to the conclusion, that, if he would reen-

force his sovereign, he must run the tremendous risk
of flinging his small but devoted band upon the full
'l'egiment of seasoned veterans that obstructed him.
When I say that he came to this conclusion reluct-
antly, it must not be inferred that unsoldierly appre-
hension could for a moment find lodgment in the
mind of our hero. But his heart was as tender as it
was brave and manly. The responsibility which
rested upon him was very great. It was not his
own peril that caused him to hesitate—it was the
pressure of the thought that the 'aluable lives under
his control should not be hastily jeoparded—that he
should hoard miserly, not wantonly waste, tye
noble men who intrusted themselves so confidently
to his guidance. Even as it was, he would not
accept the responsibility of an arbitrary leader. He
stood in their midst and portrayed in just colors the
danger they were about to encounter—the bloody
issue which must attend even victory, let alone dis.
order; and it was not until, by enthusiastic aeclama»

tion, they signified their desire to be led upon the .

i‘ foe, that he suffered his samples to be overcome, and
made preparations for an immediate charge.
Nor was the heroic resolution of the little band of
Cavaliers in the least degree modified upon their
learning that Challoner’s regiment had been reén-

forced by seventy-five eavalrymen under the leado! v 

Sergeant. Prim.

 
 

 
     
   

 

.‘ “33, -v

  

 
   

 
 

  

\

,1

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

STOURPORT.

CHAPTER VII.

RALPH RACKETT’S LAST CAROL.

Sweep the strings with a steady hand,
Mournfully. sigliingly,

Let the sorrow-note go over the land
Like an echo—softly, dyingly.-—-1“ROVI<:NCAL Am.

IT was half-past two o’clock in the afternoon when
the devoted band rode out of the streets of Stem-
port toward the intrcnched camp of the Houndhemls.
As they rode along, the musical voice of Ralph
Rackett could be heard above the rumble of steeds
in a ringing martial ditty, and Carlington could not
forbear a glance of admiration and respect at the
utterly careless and jovial mien with which his reck-
less lieutenant was ridingr to the battle—field.

Hardly had they emerged from the wooded coun-
try to the open plain, at the further extremity of
Which the Rebel camp was situated, when a sharp
musketry fire was opened upon them, but at such a
distance as to have no effect. But, as they rode for—

' ward, a louder report apprised them that they also
' had artillery to encounter.

The horse of one of the
‘Cavaliers was plunged to the ground, almost disem-
bowled by a round-shot, a moment after.

' Silently forming for the charge, Carlington lead-

, ing the center, Merton the right wing, and Beckett

the left, the captain’s plan was soon consummated.

  
   

  

    

66 THE MESSENGER.

' He resolved that Rackett should charge in a straight.

line, with sixty horsemen, while he and Merton
should make a diversion a little to the right, with
the main body, and simultaneously charge at a dif-
ferent angle, the line of which Would be partially
concealed from the enemy for a considerable distance.

These movements were quickly made. He gave
the signal for Rackett’s advance, and was on the
point of shouting forth the order for his own column
to move, when the sight of a single horseman com-
ing toward him at a wonderful pace from a little
clump of cedars to his right, caused him to pause;
for the steed was the white stallion, and his rider
none other than the little page. Full of wonder
at this strange sight—the page must have followed
him all the way from Northumherland—he could
scarcely believe his eyes, until the messenger stood
close at his side—his noble charger bespattered with
mud, and he pale, travel-stained, and out of breath.

“Blessed Virgin, lad ! What brings thee hither ?”
exclaimed the astonished Cavalier.

“Do—do not—charge—in this line!” gasped the
page, through his broken breath.

“Why not ?”

“The camp is protected by a covered ditch. It
begins there, and ends there,” hurriedly continued
the page, indicating with his extended finger the
position and extent of the concealed trench.

“God help poor Raekett and the brave men he
leads!” exclaimed the Cavalier, fervently; While
the page spurred back to the clump of cedars from
which he had emerged. ' -

 
     

“t

 

f

 

 

 

  

   

THE ATTACK. ‘ 67

The line was hastily formed so as to avoid the
treacherous ditch in the onset, the order given, and
the troop rushed forward like a hurrieane.

A murderous fire was opened upon them as they
broke cover, and many a man went headlong from

I his saddle ere the line of the sunken trench was

reached. But it was with disappointment and alarm
that Colonel Challoner saw that the main body of
the Cavaliers was to escape the trap set for them.
Fully one half of Rackett’s troop, however, had been
lost or rendered useless by the pit, and a strong de-
tachment of the Puritans was hurrying to destroy
the remainder.

“ Forward! forward!” shouted the clear tones of
Carlington; and the next instant the head of his
troop was dashed upon the serried line of Puritan
pikes and Inuskets with the force of an a udanche.

But the hardy veterans of the Commonwealth
stood firm. Although many were overthrown by
the terrible collision, and others were stricken down
by the swift sabers of their assailants, their line re-
mained unbroken, and the rapid firing which they
Were enabled to maintain, at such close quarters,
was poured into the horsemen with woeful efl'ect.
Again and again did the Cavaliers hurl themselves
upon the masses of immovable infantry with des-
perate valor, and as often did the muzzles of the long
line of mushets spout forth their missiles of destruc-
tion through the thinned and bleeding squadron of
troopers, who, at length, exhausted and hopeless,

' ‘Were with difficulty gathered together and rallied for
' [I finalefi'ort to force. the Rebel lines.

 

  

68 THE MESSENGER.

“ Once more ! ,once more!” yelled Cgrlington, ‘ *1:
springing to thesfront with frantic vehemcncc. " “T
V He was bare-headed, and the sleeve of his doublet
torn to shreds. A slight wound on the temple let a . «b,
rill of blood down his pale cheek. He seemed an

. . . . 1'
avengmg angel, With his waving sword and desperate pr
mien. g .5

. he.

“Onward! onward!” he yelled once more; and} .R(
the stern Puritans instinctively recoiled, as from the  .

base of a tumbling mountain, as the devoted horse- 2m)

men plunged at their breasts. fl“
Two desperate blows, right and left, and Guy had hit.

W broken the human wall. Twenty troopers rushed

after him into the breach. Dismay seized the Rebels, :1
’and their ranks begun to crumble at every point, . m
while the victorious Cavaliers, their appetite for 'a
blood whetted by the losses they had sustained, ‘Wr
showed little mercy to the fugitives. But Challoner PL:
flung a fresh company, which he had held in reserve, ~ ,
to oppose the rush, while, by great effort, the ranks an;

‘ which had been broken were restored behind the
Cavaliers, who were thus completely hemmed in. file
To add to their helplessness, Sergeant Prim now
rushed down upon them through the avenues of in- p the
fantry, at the head of his seventy-five fresh horsemen. ' = ,‘
Though by no means romantic, the aspect of the hy- ‘ '
pocritical sergeant in battle was terrible. \Vith his -  I
steel-cap pressed down tightly over his ears, his ipas
sleeves rolled up above his elbows, and a livel , ’Ifiic
matter—of-fact expression about the lips, he ente ed

/

-
the strife of men with the business-like air of a .3]
butcher entering his stalls for the daily work' of p i  “

   

  
 

94m

 

   
  
  

ll‘rample the revilers!
‘ heath our heels!

 
 
 
  
 

  

 
  

BEATEN BUT ncromovs. 69

,; ‘ laughter; while, ever and anon, his loud nasal tones
r,ould ring out in Scriptural imprecations, such as :

“Down with the Philistines! Hew them from
heir stalks! Yea, crop them from their stiff and
prideful stems ! Upon .them, children of the Lord !
I Let them be as worms be-
iid the blasphemers howl in death!
.Roll them to the pit! Let the devil have his pets!”
I This was the fanatic’s mode ol'lighting. He knew
ihot what it was to be chivalric, lofty or noble, when
'the game to be played for was lnnnan blood. To
him the men he fought were not honest believers in
an opposite creed; they Were ('JiOLl-(iCfiOl‘R, religion-
i ef'amers, virtue-tramplers—useless weeds in the
Q ardens of the world. His firm belief was, that he
TWaS an especially appointed instrument of divine
:Wrath. God had some dirty work to perform, and
Prim was the servant selected for the task.

The Cavaliers, though surrounded on every side,
,and barely one-half of them in their saddles, were
not dismayed. Animated by their heroic leader,
*they fought with the terrible valor of despair. Prim
and his troopers were hurled back discomfited from

  

 

their dauntless front.

Then there came a ray of hope—«a ray that broad-

 ened into a steady beam. l ~

_ Far beyond the hedge of infantry which encom- I
passed them, there came the sound of another con-

   
 

' 'fflict, and the glad, reckless tones of Ralph Rackett’s
_ :VOice above the din. Carlington could not restrain
, in shout of joy.

if “Do you hear? Do you hear ?” he cried. “ We

 

  

70 THE MESSENGER.

are saved! Forward! Upon them once more I” and
again the worn and shattered squadron was hurled
against the ranks which separated them from their
brethren. It swayed up and down, wavered, then
gave way.

And at this moment Raekett, with about twenty

, men, the sole remnant of the glittering and numerotis
troop he had led into action, fell upon the rear of the
tired and bewildered infantry, who, to the number
of several hundred, broke and fled in the wildest
confusion.

Swinging his sword above his head, and reeling in
his saddle like a drunken man, the incorrigible leader
of the reént‘oreement was bawling fresh doggerel at
the top of his lungs :

“ Our steeds are all prancing,

Our sabers are out!

The Rebels are dancing
And bobbing about!

Charge! charge! Give them battle,
Cut home with a shout! ,

Turn their hymn to death—rattle,
Their ruin to rout!

" Then cut, out home for your klndredl
And cut, cut home for the crown!
Our steeds are cheery, long-winded,
And they trample the Roundheads down.”

“ Ha! we meet again I Have at thee, psalm—singer,”
he shouted, making at Sergeant Prini, who was
near at hand, exerting himself to allay the panic of
the disordered and flying infantry. ' '7 '

“ I will put thee beyond thy worldly blaspheming,
thou devil’s chosen l” quoth the grim sergeant, spur-
ring to meet the Cavalier, with his huge brand
swinging on high.

- .gfmfi§§;whfi \sh’»

 

 

A soxu (.‘UT snox'r. ’(l

But the latter, by a dextrous movement, avoided

the blow, and, before he could return it, a. flying
bullet killed the Rebel’s horse, and they rolled to the
plain together. Ere the Cavalier could make his vie-
tory complete, a dozen bra \vny Rebel troopers spurred
m and rescued their chief.
' The tide of the contest now was effectually turned
in favor of the Cavaliers. Challoner made tremen-
dous efforts to reorganize and rally the flying footmen,
but without success. Raekett’s sudden appea mice
on their rear had spread a consternation through
their ranks, and their terror-excited fancies had mul-
tiplied his handful of troopers into a thousand men.
The maddened Cavaliers pursued them over the field
and slaughtered them like frightened sheep.

Infiiriated—almost insane—at seeing his force thus
melting away, the Rebel colonel covered their flight
with the remnant of his veteran horsemen. lleilrew
his pistol and aimed it at Rackett as the latter was
charging him, shouting and singing in his wild, reek-
less way :

“ The Rebels are running,
And yelping with shame,
’Tis Jolly good gun hing,
And plenty of game.
Charge! charge! Give them battle!
Cut home with a shout!

Turn their hymn to death-rattle,
Their min to rent!

“ Then cut, out home for your kindred!
And cut, out home for the crown!
Our steeds are cheery, long-winded,
. And they trample-—”

The song was never completed; for, at this mo-
7ment, the colonel’s bullet struck the poor fellow in

 

 
 

 

 
 
  
    
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 

4;

72

the forehead, and he rolled from his saddle a dead
man. '
Carlington saw the dastard shot. A fierce fire
leaped at his heart. He crushed the recollections of
old friendship from his breast—he forgot that his
foeman was Charlotte’s brother—forgot every thing

THE MESSENGER.

! but vengeance, and, with a fierce shout, charged at

the murderer. The Rebel troopers were scattered
by the Cavaliers, and Carlington and Challoner soon
confronted each other alone. The latter drew his
remaining pistol and fired. The hall struck and
shivered into fragments the uplifted sword of the
Cavalier, when Challoner drew his blade and rushed
upon him with a cry of triumph. But Guy evaded
the stroke by a quick wheel of his charger; then,
leaping from his saddle, he grasped the colonel by
the throat, and they rolled to the earth together—
the Rebel under-most. Stunned by the fall, he could
not move. Carlington raised his dagger to plunge it
in his foeman’s breast, when a sharp cry close at hand

caused him to pause, and his arm was seized.

“Spare him! spare him!” cried the page—for it
was he.

But the anger of Carlington was aroused to the
highest pitch.

“Away!” he shouted, shaking his arm free, and
again raising his poniard. V

The page knelt before him in an agony of emotion.

“ Spare him, I beseech thee! Look! Spare him,
if you value the owner of this!”

He thrust out his hand so that the diamond ring
of his mistress glistened in the ehieftain’s eyes. ‘

   

w rug; v4p_., ..
/

 

   
      

"if

 

 
 

 
 
      
       
   
   

[a "f: r»; ,_

 

THE FALLEN FOR. 73

'Carlington- hesitated for an instant, and then re»
leased his antagonist.

“ My reason returns,” lze said, turning to the page.
“ I thank thee. Thou hast saved me again—not my
life, but iny honor. A moment more, and I should
have been a murderer. Colonel Challoner, you are

l at liberty. I can not take the life of a prostrate foe,
seven though his hand is red with the blood of my
friend}:

“ You give me my life. I accept the boon,” said
Challoner, with his eyes on the ground. “I would
reward your generosity by information which may
be of value,” he continued. “Your destination is
\Voreester, is it not? You ride to join your
prince ?”

“ Yes.”

“The battle of W'orcester was fought this morn-
ing at break of day. General Cromwell was victo-
rious, and now occupies the town. The Royalist
army was utterly destroyed, and Charles Stuart isnow
a hunted fugitive—perhaps bereft of that which you
have given rue—life.”

Having said this, the Rebel colonel remounted his
horse and galloped off in the direction of his flying
troopers.

g Carlington was almost stunned at what he had
I heard. '

“ Can this be true?” he muttered.

“ The tale is true,” said the page, drawing his hat
lower to hide the excessive paleness of his face.

’ ’Carlington’s heart was full of pity for the youth.
He was so young and delicate, so girl-like, that the

 

 

 
 

74 . THE MESSENGER.

bloody scenes around him must be shocking in the
last degree. Guy took him by the hand, and they
moved forward till they stood beside Rackett’s
corpse.

“ Knee], myfriend,” said the Cavalier, “ knee] with
me, and pray for the soul of a gallant man I”

And they knelt and prayed.

Poor Ralph ! few had been his own prayers in lifi
-——it was a strange event, that, of all the many dead
that strewed that gory plain, his corpse should be
the only one to receive a pious prayer for the welfare
of its late tenant.

The battle had been most obstinate and sangui—'
nary, and the victory was complete. But, although
the Rebel loss exceeded that of the Royalists as
much as their numbers had been overwhelmingly in
the preponderance, the proportion of the Cavaliers
who had been slain or overthrown, reduced their
band to a mere handful of men.

Of the two hundred who had advanced to the
attack, but thirty-six remained in the saddle!

  

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 

 
  
  

vw

 

'\ .

 

 

   

 
   

THE KING AND THE COVENANTERS. 

' CHAPTER VII.
THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER.

On Woreester’s dark and gory plains, well-n-day!
Charlie‘s Scotchmen died the death, and he

To Boscobel fled sorrowfully away,
And hid within an old oak-tree.——\VELSH BALLAD.

OBEDIENT to an invitation from the Scottish
Presbyterians, or Covenanters, as they were distinct-
ively called, that he would assume the throne of
Scotland, Charles Stuart, afterward Charles II, of
England, set sail from France, in which country he

' had long been an exile, and arrived in Scotland in

the year 1649. Although the Scotch had refused to
recognize the English Republic, the conditions upon
which they offered the throne to Charles were so
rigorous that his best friends had advised him not to
endure such sacrifices for the vacant honor of king-
ship.

But the youthful prince, who, quite likely, enter-

-tained the dishonest intention of abrogating these

conditions at the first practicable moment, had, never-
theless agreed to them. His proud nature was
destined to receive many wounds among the Scotch-
men. He was not suffered to land until he had
signed the Covenant ; and his landing was no sooner
effected than he found himself beset on all sides by

.

 

THE MESS ENGER.

the bigoted Covenanters, who sought to convert him
to their own designs.

His position here was, in many respects, an un-
comfortable one. The entire administration, both
of church and state, was sedulously kept out of his

hands by the Presbyterians, who, though they al- .

lowed him the title of king, hardly treated him with
the respect of a superior.

So little regard was accorded to his feelings that,
upon one occasion, they obliged him to pass under
the gates of Aberdeen, over which was suspended
one of the legs of his faithful friend and servant, the
Marquis of Montrose, who had, a little before, been
put to death for appearing in arms in his cause.

Under these circumstances, Charles secretly rc-
joieed at hearing that Cromwell was on his march to
Scotland, with a powerful army, for the purpose of
driving him from his uneasy throne. Of a gay and
thoughtless disposition, and accustomed, as he had
been for years, to an easy exile at the court of France,
he was not sorrowful at a prospect which would
compel him to leave the hard, rude Scotehmcn, by
whom he had been induced to “reign over them,”
as they termed his empty title; and, better still, he
cherished a hope that the difficulties which were now

gathering upon the stingy Covenanters, might enable .

him, eventually, to lead an army into England, fv
the purpose of overthrowing the Parliamentary
power, and recstablishing the Royalist rule over all
the British isles.

The Scottish army, commanded by General Leslie,
attacked Cromwell near Dunbar, and was utterly

/

  

R‘V‘

 

 

   

 

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

     

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

some accounts,) the princefound himself completely

  

mm}: 0F WORCESTER. 77

defeated, with great loss; though the Puritan Gen-
eral was unable, at that time, to make himself
master of the kingdom on account of a severe fit of
sickness, which seized him shortly after the battle,
and obliged him to return to England.

In the year 1651, Cromwell again invaded Scotland,
with a strong force, and penetrated so far into the
country as to get behind the army of the Covenanters.
Charles, who was with the army, which consisted of
fourteen thousand men, seeing the road to the English
border thus opened to him, formed the bold design
of marching into England, mistakenly presuming that
all those who were discontented with the Common--
wealth would eagerly flock to his standard. Many,
it is true, of the more "ultra Royalists hastened to
join him, but the fear of Cromwell and other causes
tended to prevent a general uprising in his favor.

The prince marched steadily forward, hoping at
last to gather strength ; but he arrived at Worcester
with slight additions to his fourteen thousand Scots.
Here he halted, and had a few days’ rest after his
wearisome march.

In the mean time, Cromwell, when he found that
the king had slipped by him, left General Monk, his
second in command, to take care of affairs in Scot-

‘ land, and pursued Charles with all possible dispatch.

Raising the militia of the several counties as he
passed, he mustered an overpowering force, and
swept down upon the king'and his devoted Scots like
a besom of destruction. ‘

On the 3d of September, (on the 4th, according to ,

 

  

 

78

s THE MESSENGER.

surrounded by the enemy. He, however, barricaded
the entrance to the town, and made the best dispo-
' sition of his troops, in which he was assisted by his
friend and counselor, Lord Derby, who had shared
his exile, and remained by him to the last.

At daybreak the attack commenced. Cromwell
threw his forces in solid phalanx against the northern

.. side of the city, while a detachment attacked it on"

the west. For several hours the little army of the
prince, protected by the defenses they had raised,
gallantly repulsed the Roundhe‘ads, who lost heavily.
But the Royalists were without artillery, and, when
the field-guns of Cromwell were brought to bear vig-
orously upon the town, the defenders gradually
began to lose ground. '

To add to their misfortunes, the houses in their
immediate vicinity took fire from the bombardment,
and the north wind, that was blowing at the time,
almost blinded them with the heavy smoke which it
drove into their faces. At this moment, Cromwell
ordered the place to be carried by storm, The most
desperate resistance was made by the army of the
king, but the place was eventually carried. A scene
ofsavage and indiscriminate slaughter ensued. “ The
very streets of the town,” to quote the language of
history, “ were piled up with dead bodies.” Few of
the defenders escaped the massacre. Charles, him-
self, saved his life with much difliculty, and, accom-
panied by a troop of fifty or sixty gentlemen, rode

toward the Stafl‘ordshire border, closely pursued by -

the Puritan soldiers.
The battle had lasted but a few hours 5 and, when

2—-

  

    

 
 

 

 

  

 

 

 
  

 

 

“as.

 
 

CROMW ELL‘S VICTORY.

Cromwell saw that victory was securely in his grasp,
he had detached a regiment, and dispatched it, under
the command of Colonel Challoner, to cut ofi‘ and
capture Carlington‘s Cavaliers, of whose approach
he had had due notice. The finale of this diversion,
as we have seen, was the disastrous defeat and rout
of Challoner near Stourport. And this result was of
'much more moment to the king than Charles himself
was aware; for, had the defeat of Carlington been
insured, the fugitive undoubtedly must have fallen
into the hands of the master of Gresham Grange.
As it was, the coast was quite clear to the confines
of Stafibrdshire, in whose thiekly-timbcred hills and
valleys the hunted monarch hoped to find conceal-
ment until a convenient opportunity for reaching the
coast, and thence shipping for France, should occur.

Charles is reported to have said to Lord Derby,
during his hasty flight, that he would prefer to
reach the French coast a hopeless exile than to return
to his gloomy throne in Scotland, if the latter were
secured to him and his for eternity.

The fugitives had not ridden many miles to the
northward before they heard, from the gossip of the
country people, the news of the bloody fight at
Stony-port. The tears sprung into the monarch’s eyes

i as the details of Carlington’s dearly-bought victory

reached his ears.

“ Glorious Guy ! brave Carlington !” he exclaimed,
1n husky tones, to his friends. “ Oh, Derby! what
bravery is wasted in my wretched cause! Do you
think these gallant men, who fight and perish for
their king,»can have any idea what a vagabond he is ‘1’”

 

 

 
  

   

80 THE MESSENGER.

\After many devious turnings to baflie pursuit, the
prince reached the borders of Stafi'ordshire, about
twenty-six miles from \Vorcester, a little before sun-
down. Here, as it was evident that a most persistent
search was still persevered in by Cromwell’s troop-
ers, Lord Derby advised that they should separate
into several bands and scatter in different directions.
This advice was so consistent with safety that it was
instantly adopted. Lord Derby and two other gen-

tlemen alone accompanied the prince, while the rest ’
of the troop plunged into the country in various 
directions.

“By Jove, we have a splendid escort!” said the
king, laughing at the disconsolate looks of his com-
panions.

The hint was not thrown away on them, and they
endeavored to appear more cheerful; But, certainly,
the homeless, perilous position of the prince was one
iittle calculated to inspire other feelings than those
of despondency. Even the buoyant nature of the
kihg presently succumbed beneath his anxiety; and ,
the four horsemen rode forward beneath the deep- ,9‘ j“
ening shadows of the twilight in silence and ap— ""
prehension.

As they approached a heavy belt of timber, an
exclamation of alarm from Derby caused the others
to start from their reveries, when they perceived a
trrop of twenty or thirty horsemen riding rapidly '
toward them.

“I fear we are lost,” said Derby, with frightful L r
calmness.

Charles looked around him with a hopeless glance.

    

 

,—

 

 

 

 

  

TIIE PRINCE A FUGITIVE.

 

“ Shall we turn back ?” he inquired.

“ It were madness,” was the reply.

“ Draw then, gentlemen!” cried the prince, with
sudden passion, at the same time unsheathing his
sword. “ They hunt me like a dog, but, by God’s
mother, they shall see me perish like the kingI am 2”

Animated by this heroic example of their monarch,
the swords of the three gentlemen leaped from their
scabbards, and, f’ronting the advancing troopers,
with their chargers drawn up breast to breast across
the road, the four desperate men calmly awaited
them.

Their apprehensions were destined to be happily
disappointed.

“ What is this ? These are not Rebels !” cried
Charles, joyfully. “ Who can they be ?”

“I am at a loss to know,” said the earl.

A more tattered, muddy, travel-sore set of Cava-
liers than those who now halted at a respectful dis-
tance and bared their heads, it never before had been
the fortune of Charles to witness. The leader, pale,
and with a bandage around his head, leaped from
his saddle, approached the prince, and, bending low,
saluted the royal hand with respectful lips.

“By King Arthur’s beard, who art thou, man?”
cried the monarch, wonderingly.

“ One whom you knew and loved in happier days, a

my liege,” replied the Cavalier, with a sorrowful
smile. “My name is Carlington.”

“ Is it possible! Guy} my old friend! God bless
thee! God bless thee l” cried the delighted monarch,
springing to the ground, and embracing him, warmly.

   

  

    

 
 

82 THE MESSENGER.

A few hurried sentences of the Cavalier sufliced to
clear away all doubts as to the afl'air at Stourport;
and he, in turn, was made acquainted with the extent
of the disaster to the king’s arms at Worcester.

It was with a trembling lip that Carlin gton pointed

‘ to the handful of battle-worn Cavaliers, and said to
the king :

“ There are the victors of Stourport. They were
two hundred this morning—this is the remnant!”

“ I remember a brave man who should be among
them now,” said Charles; “one of Rupert’s aids at
Naséby. Let me see, his name—”

“ Your majesty must mean Ralph Rackett, of
Gawtrey Bridge. He perished this morning; and a.
braver spirit never took its flight.”

The king turned away his head to hide his emo-
tion.

“I I remember the stories Sir Marmaduke Langdale
used to tell about this Cavalier,” he resumed. “The
General spoke of him as a man who rode to battle
with a song upon his lips—who jested at the ap-
proach of the Destroyer himself. Reguiescat in
pace I But who is that delicate youth in your troop
-—he of the matchless white steed ‘3”

Carlington blushed, but made a brief explanation

7‘ of the cause of the page’s presence, and was obliged
to mention the name of the Lady Charlotte.

“Quite a romance, I declare,” said the prince.
“ And how is thy sweet lady-love? We saw her
mother frequently when in France, and made a
promise, I believe, that the fair daughter should be

rescued! from her Rebel kin, if success attended us I

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

CONCEALMENT. 88

Heigh-hol We made many

in Merry England.
promises then.”

“May I inquire your majesty’s present plans ?”
asked Carlington.

“ Faith, you may ask, friend,” said the other, “ but
his majesty will take care to preserve a discreet reti-
cence upon that of which he is in profound ignor-
ance.”

“My liege,” said the Cavalier, “if you will deign
to trust yourself to my guidance, I think I can in-
sure you safety, for the present, at least. I am ready
to perish, if need be, in your majesty’s cause, and
the lives of all these brave men are freely, gladly at
your command.”

“ I trust thee absolutely, Carlington,” was the
monareh’s reply. “ Let us know thy scheme, and act
upon it.”

“ If we penetrate the woods in our front by a nar-
row bridle-path which leaves the road at the left
hand,” continued the Cavalier, “ a brisk three hours’
ride will bring us to the forest skirts of Boscobel.
In this forest, as your majesty must be aware, is
situated the old manor-house of the estate. For
many years it was unoccupied, but is new inhabited
by a family of simple wood-cutters by the name of
Penderill. I will stake my life on their good faith.
The father was an old retainer of our family, and
an exemplary man. I know that the present family,
which consists of the mother (who nursed me when
an infant) and five stalwart sons, will be faithful to
the trust, if your majesty casts yourself on their
generosity. The ruined manor, in which they live,

 

  

   

.’

84 2mm MESSENGER.

is of difiicult access for travelers, and it is aiso shnn- ’

ned by the country people, who have the notion that
it is haunted. My proposition is, that your majesty
will immediately set forth for ,the manor of Bos-
cobel.” "

“ \Vhat do you advise, Derby?”
turning toward his General.

After some hesitation, the earl fell in with the
plan ; and no time was lost in riding forward. The
bridle-path was duly reached. The king, preceded
by the Cavaliers under Carlington, entered the forest,
which was almost of midnight darkness by this time.
A long and silent ride in the gloom, now and then
diversified by an open glade and glen, or a lonely
woodman’s clearing, brought them to a wide, cheer-
less heath, scantin illuminated by the stars. On the
opposite side of this heath, or common, stretched the
dark and unbroken forest of lioscobel. So dense
and tangled was this belt of timber that it was
with much diflieulty Carlington could discover a
continuation of the path, which had lost itself in the
gorse and wild broom of the common. He found it
at last, however, and, in a few moments, the royal

said Charles,

cortége drew up’ in front of the ruined manor. It I

was in the heart of the deep forest, and approached
by another road than that by which the cavalcade
had entered the wood.

A bright light was beaming from the windows of
the old house, and the loud summons of Carlingtou
soon brought. one of the inmates to the door, when
the party entered.

Fine, strong men were the brothers Penderill.

r



 
    

 

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\

BOSCOBEL MANOR. «85

 , They gave a rough, manly welcome to the fugitives;
1 and old Goody Penderill, the mother, was overjoyed
, t at meeting Carlington, whom she had not seen for

many years. _
There was some hesitation on the part of the
prince as to whether or not he should make himself
1 known to the peasants. He at length concluded to
do so, however, and, when their amazement and awe _
at his august presence were somewhat overcome, he ,
. received such honest, heartfelt assurances that his
 concealment should be kept a secret, that he could
‘1 but believe them sincere.
After a night of rest and recuperation, it was
deemed advisable that the troop of Carlington should
I ' ,7; be disbanded, in order to make the hiding—place; of
,   the king less liable to remark. This was accordingly
 done. The weary veterans of the victory of Stour—
port scattered and returned to their homes by various
directions—only Carlington, Lord Derby, Lady Char-
lotte’s page, and the two gentlemen who had accom-
panied the king from Worcester, remaining at the
Boscobel manor with the king.

 

86' THE MESSENGER.

CHAPTER IX.

BOSCOBEL FOREST.

“ Ah me! the deep, sweet groves. Where all day long
Bubbleth the runnel, and the pleasant song
Of throstle, llnnet, and lone wood-dove’s moan,
Touch the pleased spirit tenderly. But groan.
Complaint, sad mutterings and eldtltch cries,
Creep throngh the forest when the daylight dies."

THERE was something incomprehensible in the
conduct of the silent page. He very seldom had
any thing to say; was rarely seen except out of d( ors,
with his large hat slouched over his face; and seemed
to shun the society of all around him, though most
courteous and respectful to each. ~

Carliugton was deeply interested in the lad, as
well as grateful, and sought to find out something
more of his history. But the reticence of the youth
was not easily overcome. Although he never ap-
peared any otherwise than pleased at the notice he
attracted from the Cavalier, he would usually look
so confused and unhappy if an allusion were made to
himself that Guy could not have the heart to pursue
his guest from idle curiosity.

After they had been at the manor 3. week or more,
however, the page was observed by Carliugton to
come out of the house in company with Goody Pen-
derill, who seemed to have received some astounding
intelligence, from her flurried demeanor, and a deep

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THE SEARCH. 87

blush suffused the face of the youth. And that even-
ing, (to the further perplexity of Carlington,) Giles
Penderill, the youngest of the family of wood-cutters,
after a long conversation in private with his mother,
started northward on white Boreas, and was gone
for several days.

But, before he returned, the page was one day
walking in the woods, when his steps were arrested
by the low tones of approaching men, and he barely
had time to slip behind a tree, before two Puritan
horsemen rode into the opening and several others
soon followed. .

The page had no difiienlty in recognizing the leader
as Sergeant Prim; and, from the drift of their con-
versation, which he could plainly overhear, he was
soon made aware that the fugitive prince was the
He slipped off in haste to the
manor, and luckily finding Charles and his attenda
ants there, apprised them of their danger.

A hasty consultation was had, when it was agreed
that they should betake themselves to the forest sep-
arately, and remain for the day. This arrangement
was slightly deviated from by the king permitt ng
the page (at his urgent request) to accompany him
into the forest. The latter had spent so much of his
time of late in wandering about the grounds, that
his familiarity therewith, it was thought, might ma-
terially aid the king in his concealment.

The wood-cutters were most sedulously engaged
in their customary vocation of hewing timber, the
busy spindle of old Goody Penderill was humming
away as if it had never had a moment’s pause, the

.5»

 

88 run MESSENGER.

tortoise-shell tom-cat was basking composedly on tho
rug before the fire, the old Dutch clock was ticking
away the time in its quiet, business-like fashion, and

every thing was extremely natural and honest about ‘

the manor of Boscobel, an hour later, when Sergeant
Prim, with his jackal pack at his heels, approached
it from the interminable mazes of the forest, whence,
‘ at last, they had succeeded in picking their way.

“ Well, let’s wake the rats within,” said the ser-
geant, thumping angrily at the door; for, being lost
in a wood, with an empty stomach, is not conducive
to a cheerful temper, even among the most pious.
“ Open the portals to the children of the Lord,”
bawled the soldier. “ Open, 1 say!”

“ Well, you needn’t smash the door in, you ill-
mannered hypocrite l” cried the widow, in a rage, at
the same time appearing at the door. “ What do
you mean by thundering at my door in that way,
you drunken vagabond ! Oh, I’m not afraid of your
savage looks, nor the iron pot you’ve got on your
empty skull! What do you mean? Speak, or I’ll
treat you to a bath of dishwater, you knave !”

The hungry soldier winced beneath this tirade.

“Passionate and godless female!” he began, “in
the name of the Lord God of hosts, Oliver Cromwell
and the British Parliament, we are here to———”

“ Who are you cursing in that, outlandish way,
you infernal vagabond ?
cried the apparently infuriated old lady, flinging her

,distafi‘ at his head; and seizing a broom near by, she
began to belabor the luekless sergeant till his, steel-
, cap rung again. "

Take that, and that!” -

 
   

  
   

 

 

  

 

 

 

DISTAFF AND BROOM. 89

“Take her ofi‘! Seize her i” he shouted, vainly
endeavoring to escape the blo ovs.

With diliiculty restraining an explosion of decid-
edly un-I’uritan-like merriment at their leader’s
ridiculous quandary, the soldiers here interfered, and
the Virago was at length secured.

“Ransack the house! Smash up every thing!”
roared the enraged sergeant, rubbing his shoulders,
revengefully.

“ Nay! nay! friend !” said the elder wamd-cutte'r,
now advancing from the wood, followed by his tall
hl'otllel's with their axes on their shoulders, “thou
wouldst not commit an evil deed, to judge of thy
most pious and good-natured aspect. Who art
thou? What seek ye ‘3”

“We are soldiers of the Commonwealth, and we
seek the man Charles Stuart.”

. “We grant ye all due respect,” said the wood-
cntter; “ but if it is the king, with whose presence
report has honored our humble abode, we must let
ye know that this is the first we ever heard of it.”

The troopers, however, insisted on searching the
premises, which they did, but without success.

In the mean time, the fugitives had made all haste

to reach the innermost recesses of Boscobel forest, ‘

taking different directions, as we have intimated.
Charles, accompanied by the page, had taken a west-
brly course—the wood seeming thicker and more
impenetrable to horsemen in that direction. They
could not have proceeded more than a few miles
when they were startled by the sound of approach-

'  steps. They listened intently, and knew them

 
 

p

 

    

90 THE MESSENGER.

for the tramp of steeds.
concealment was to be effected, it must be done soon.
To his great joy, the page, upon looking around,
discovered that they had almost reached the great
oak-tree, beneath which he had had his interview

It was evident that, if a

with Guy Carlington' in the morning. The trunk of
the oak was favorable to climbing, and the almost
impenetrable foliage of the wide—spreading branches
afforded an admirable concealment to any one who
should seek a lodgment above. He immediately
pointed out this tree to the king, who instantly per-
ceived the advantage it offered, and they run toward
it, for no time was to be lost. Charles clambered up
without much trouble, and was soon out of sight

from below. But there was no time for the page to ‘

follow, so he plunged forward, and thrust himself in
some bushes, which crowded around the feet of some
saplings, a few yards further on. Hardly were they

secure in their hiding-places before Prim and his fol-l

lowers appeared, riding directly under the tree which
was already growing celebrated, and at length coming
to a pause, near the bushes that hid the little page.
But they wandered about the glade without suc-
cess, and finally, I to the infinite relief of the fugitives,
who heard every word with breathless anxiety,) pro-
: ceeded onward into the deep forest. The hiders
waited a long time without moving ; but the troop.
ers did not return to their whereabouts, so the page
ventured to issue from the friendly bushes, and with
inward thanksgiving to Providence, the prince de-
scended from the loyal branches of the tree, which
’was the sire, of the present Royal Oak of England.

 
  

   

 

  

 

 

PRIM IN TROUBLE.

CHAPTER XI.
A MORE LAUGXIABLE ADVENTURE.
I met a fool 1' the forest—SHAKSPEARE.

NOT daring to return to the manor, as the Rom“.
heads would be most likely to revisit that quarter
again, the fugitive prince and his companion retired
deeper into the forest until they came upon the rest
of the royal suite, who had stumbled across each
other during their wanderings, and were now reclin-
ing upon the sward, engaged in conjecturings as to
the whereabouts of their sovereign.

The prince gave a lively account of his narrow
escape, when the voices of the Cavaliers sunk much
lower, for fear of again bringing the soldiers upon
them. By the advice of the prudent Derby they
were about to separate once more, and pursue differ-
ent paths, when the tramp of an approaching steed
caused them to shelter their heads as best they might,
and the next moment Prim himself came riding
through the little hollow in which they were con-
cealed. He was all alone, however, and, as the
party were tolerany well armed, they were not

i much frightened at his appearance. The heat of the

day was still Oppressive, and the Roundhead seemed
to be perspiring freely beneath his helmet. At length,
as his tired horse paused of his own account in the

 

  

  

92 ms: MESSENGER.

cooling shade of a tree under which he was passing,
and by where a grateful little spring gushed pleas-

 
 

antly from the turf, the temptation was too strong ”

for the weary Puritan. Dismounting, after giving
him a drink at the water, he relieved himself of his

, cumbersome skull—cap, and bathed his face and head
in the bubbling fountain. He was then tempted to
stretch his weary form upon the sward, and, very
shortly, probably against his intention, fell fast
asleep.

“How the hog snores !” Whispered Charles,laughing.

“An ideal I have an idea!” exclaimed Morford,
one of the suite.

“ For mercy sake, let us know it,” said the king;
“brilliant conceptions are rare nowadays.”

“ Does not your majesty notice those heavy hand-,

cuffs and that bundle of strong thongs made fast to
the bow of the Puritan’s saddle ? And can your
majesty doubt the purpose for which they were in-
tended ?”

“ ’Sdeath !” said the merry monarch; “ they were
doubtless intended to adorn our own royal limbs.”

“Why not turn the tables completely on the sacri-
legious wretch? Let us spring upon him in his
slumber, and immesh him in his own toils.”

“ By my life, thy thought is a sparkling one!” ex-
claimed Charles. “ I vote in the affirmative.”
. I So did'the rest, and they proceeded to carry out

the design.

In a. few seconds their victim was completely
bound, and awoke to find himself the center of .a
circle of welfare. ‘ ‘

 

  

 

 

 

 

 
 
  

 

VHmUQUQfx‘

 

 

  

  
 

 
   

A mama. , ‘ 98

The poor sergeant frowned savagely at being
made the butt of a shOWer of witticisms, but he was
unable to move hand or foot, and could only grin
and bear it. He was not aware that one of his eap<
tors was the king, having never before seen him.
And now it flashed upon him that the gay company
by whom he was surrounded might not be fomid so ;
ineorrnptible as the simple peasants. So he fumbled ii
in his belt, as well as his fettered hands would per-
mit, and produced the proclamation of reward for
the king’s head, which he proceeded to read aloud,
much to the merriment of his auditors, but to none
more so than to “the man Charles,” to whom the
proclamation of the Parliament chiefly related.

“ \Vell, we know where the king hides; I propose
that we produce him to the gallant sergeant,” said
he, merrily, turning to his companions.

“ By all means !’_’ cried the others.

“ Release me immediately,” said the delighted ser
geant; “we will soon find my soldiers, when you can
lead us to the hiding-place of the prince of revilers.”

“Nay, we will not produce him till to-morrow,”

said Carlin gton.

“ But consider, gentlemen, TWO THOUSAND AND
TWO HUNDRED GUINEAS!”

“ Nay, we will forego that pleasure till to-morrow.
Come, friends, let us make the holy man comfortable
for the night.” '

\Vith that, they proceeded to make him fast to
the trunk of the tree beneath which they were stand.
mg, strapping him bolt upright, with his back against
the bark, so that he was unable to budge an inch.

  

Q

94 THE MESSENGER.

I‘Wilight was now falling, and the Cavaliers pro-
ceeded cautiously toward the manor, which they
were not long in reaching.

It was with sincere gratitude that the hunted
monarch heard, from the lips of the widow Penderill,
of the manner in which the tempting bribe for his
capture had been disregarded by the brothers. He

‘ made a solemn vow, which was, many years after-
ward, fulfilled, that their devotion should be suitably
rewarded.

 

 

  

94%?

ame—

 

 

 

A SURPRISE.

Ch \l \ ER XII.
A. LIIAPTER or sanmsns.

Lugxosoit had treated the Page with studied
coldness, for he was terribly jealous at last.

When he arose in the morningr and sauntered out
into the wood, he therefore strode on, immersed in
his unhappy doubts, suspicions and hopes. It was
an hou‘r or more before he felt sufficiently composed
to return to the manor, where the morning meal
already awaited him. His companions were in the
best of spirits after their sound sleep, and were exceed-
ingly merry over the adventures of the day before.
He alone was moody and silent.

Just then Guy Penderill gnlloped up to the open
door on white Boreas. He was followed by a cart-
man, whose vehicle contained a huge traveling trunk
and a. lady’s saddle, which were carried up stairs by
the stout wood-cutter, and the page followed, accom
panied by Goody Penderill.

At length Cerlington was aroused from his gloomy

‘ reveries. Amurmur of wonder from his colnpmions,
’ as the door which led to the stairway opened, caused

him to turn. VVlmt did he see ? \Vas it possible P
His heart stood motionless with astonishment. He
rubbed his eyes and pinched his arm dreamily.

“Charlotte! Charlotte!” he exclaimed.

     

  

 
 

96 THE MESSENGER.

He had no need to doubt his eyes. It was, indeed,
the glorious lady of Gresham Grange.

“We know not whence or how you come among
us, most lovely lady,” said the king, bending low,
and touching her snowy hand with his lips. “ You
seem to have descended from heaven to be our angel

,guide; but be assured that our hearts are grateful.”

“ I thank your majesty for this gallant reception,”
said the lady, “ but must, nevertheless, disclaim any
more celestial origin than the bleak hills of North-
umbcrland. There is one, however, from whom I
receive no welcome.”

“ Forgive me 1” said Carlington. “ 1—- —” he
stammered some words of welcome, and kept his eyes
cast down.

The king perceived that they would be alone, and,
after a few more gallantries, he sauntcrcd out, with
his companions, and the estranged lovers were left

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
       
   
   

alone.

/ Carlington still looked down, and said nothing
further.

/ “ My page tells me thou art jealous, Guy?”

 l i “ He tells the truth,” said the other, sadly.
“Dost thou think I would love my page as well as
- thee, Guy?” A
'3. “ But he said so, he said so,” exclaimed the Cava-
, lier, pettishly. “I made him promise to prove the
truth of his words; and, ‘by heaven, he shall I”
’, “ He will do so this very instant, Guy. Look up!
He is here to answer for himself.” /
Carlin ton looked up. He perceived that a black

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 

 

moustache had suddenly grown upon the fair lip of

 

 

‘0‘?

v

[-65

 

 

‘_ —-you the page

THE PAGE mesrommn. 97

the lady. As he stared in amaze, she picked up the
heavy slouched-hat of the page and placed \it on her
head, gathering back her curls with her other hand
asshe did so. The illusion was almost perfect.

“What!” exclaimed the astonished Cavalier; “ you
p)

“ Most assuredly, Sir Jealous!” cried Charlotte,
plucking the diguising moustache from her tempting
lip.

Guy caught her in his arms.

“ Can it be possible?”

“ Yes ; and I have a mind to punish you for your
suspicions.”

They were supremely happy, and the merry prince
and the rest were happy likewise to see the lovers
joined.

The lady tried to keep the secret of her identity
with the page, but it leaked out, and only served to
increase the admiration of the king.

“1’ faith,” he said, smiling merrily, “I wish that
the ladies may play the page right often at my court,
if I ever have one. But tell me, can you go with
us? I this moment received intelligence from 8 \
faithful friend that the way is open to the coast, and
a vessel awaiting me. Will you follow this sorry

.-,

‘lover of yours to France? for, faith, he looks as if

he had small objections to offer. Come, then. We
will start at nightfall. Your baggage shall be sent '
forward in advance, and your lad yship can then show
if you can sit the saddle as gayly as your page.”

The lady consented’to accompany them to France,

‘where her mother would be overjoyed to meet her.

 

THE MESSENGER.

98

> “ And then—and then,” cried Charles, “ we shall
have the gayest wedding that the gayest court in
.Christendom can produce.”
Bidding adieu. to their friends, the party set forth,
intending to pay Sergeant Prim a visit by the way.

 
   

It was almost dark when they reached the glen in '

which they had left the sergeant in his unenviable
position. They heard him groaning before they
reached him, for he had managed to free himself of
the gag.

“Good evening, sergeant!” was the greeting he
received from the company.

“ I charge ye to release me from these toils,” said
the prisoner, in a hollow voice.

“ Nay, nay, we come but to redeem our pledge,”
said Morford.

“Ye bring the man Stuart to me? Which is

’he ?”
- “My name is Charles Stuart, said the king, ad-
vancing. “What wouldst thou have of him,
friend?”

For a moment, the Puritan seemed bewildered at
fliis intelligence; and the firm, modest tone of the
prince, who called him “friend,” was diflicult toen-
swer by one who had never mentioned the royal name
but in scorn and reviling. But the Roundhead was
not one to be long abashed.

“I seek him,” said he, “as a disturber of the
Commonwealth of our righteous Republic. His life

. is a. forfeit to the State.” ~ ‘
“ You Vmay say Itrue,” said the fugitive monarch,

quietly, “ but, at present, is not thy life .a forfeit t6 '

nt-

 
 

 

  

 

    

   

 

 
 
 

 

 
 

TnE KING’S MAGNAN'IMITY. 99

my will? Thou art my bound prisoner. “What
shall prevent me from putting thee to death ?”

“ I defy thee to do thy worst, thou wiede man 1”
said Prim, spunky to the last.

“I shall do so,” said Charles, quietly dismounting
and advancingr toward the prisoner. “ Thou seekest
the life of Charles Stuart—this is his revenge.” And,
saying this, he drew his sword and cut the bonds of
the Puritan, and also unelasped the heavy manacles
that bound his wrists. “Puritan, thou art free!
Here 18 thy sword, here is thy helmet, here is thy
steed. Behold, here is my besom bared to thee!
Strike home i”

llIechanit-ally the trooper had grasped his sword,
his helmet, and his bridle-rein, and he now stood
staring at the magnanimous king in a kind of mental
stupor. In most of his convictions he was an honest
man—a fanatic, but a fervent believer. But the
hard, worldly shell of his nature ‘was broken in at
last. A moment he stood bewildered, lest; he then
let his weapon fall to the ground, dropped upon his
knees at the monareh’s feet, and burst into tears.

Charles’ heart was touched. He took the humbled
man" by the hand and gently raised him.

“I hope thou wilt think more charitany of thy
g ;overeign henceforth,” said he, kindly; “ or call me
{plain Charles Stuart, if thou wilt. I give thee credit

for being an honest man. But remember this,

v

friend, whatever thou believest of thy free will, per-
mit thy neighbor to believe as he wills. Be a Puritan
—be a Republican, an’ thou wilt—but let me—since
Farewell l”

I also believe—let me be a king.

 

  

100 THE MESSENGER.

The king remounted his horse, and his attendants
followed him slowly out of the forest, deeply
impressed with the strange scene they had witnessed,
and leaving the silent trooper alone in the dusky
glen, with the solemn shadows of night falling around
them.

After many narrow escapes and severe hardships
the whole party managed to reach France, where
the Lady Charlotte and Guy Carlington were mar-
ried. They returned to England at the Restoration,
and enjoyed many years of happy existence.

m IND.

 

 

 

 

DIME POCKET NOVEIJS.

PUBLISHED SEMI-HoNTflLY, AT TEN CENT! EACH.

I The Specter Chief.

N The ii’nr—Killer.

11 Wild Net.

’2 indian Jo.

I OldKent theRenger.
Dd One-E ed Trn per.
II Gedbo d, the py.

ee The Black Ship.

9' Sin le Eye.

S 1nd nn J In..

D The Sean‘-

30 [Ogle Eye.

II The Myetic Canoe.
B The Golden Harpoon.
I The Scalp King.

:4 Old Lute.

I Eninhoit, Benz".

8 The Boy Plnneer.

1" Canon, the Guide.

ID The Huge Hunte .
4| Wild Net, Trnpp r.
d! L nx-en .

King.
06 Adrian, the Pilot.
(1 The Marrhuuter.
‘3 The Phentom Treeker
fl Hoocuin Bill.
I The Wolf Que
Ii Tom Hawk Tre or
u The Med Chief.
I The Black Wolf.
II Ark-nee- Jeck.
l6 Bisckhurd.
u The River Riflee.
IV Hunter Ham.
ll Cloudwood.
I The Texne Hewke.
N Hereiieee Met.
.1 Had Ant’ony‘e Seontl
I Lueklele Trnp er.
CI The Florida cont.
ee The Island Trapper.
ee Wolf-Cep.
Dick.
.1 Bherp- ye.
I iron-Hand.
I The Yellow Hunter.
'10 The Phantom rider.
71 Del-were Tom.
'll Silver Rifle.
1'3 The Skeleton Scout.
1‘ Little Rifle.
H The Wood Witch.
7' Old Rafi, Trnpper.

 

17 Scarlet Shouldere.

18 Border Riflemnn.

1| Outiew Jerk.

N Tiger-Tell, Seminole.
81 Deeth-Dealer.

89 Kenton. the Ranger.
83 S ecler Harlem-u.
84 Tie Three Treppere.
85 Keleoiah.

86 The Hunter Hercniel.
87 Phil Hunter.

88 The lndien Seout.

89 The Girl Avenger.

90 The Red Hermite-e.
91 Star-Face, the Slayer.
99 The Antelope Boy.
93 The Phnntum Hunter.
94 Tom Pinile. Pilot.

95 The Red Win-rd.

96 The Rive] Trnpperl.
91 The Squaw Spy.

98 Dulky Dick.

99 Colonel Crockett.

100 Old Bear Pew.

101 Redinw.

102 Wild Rube.

103 The Indian Huntere.
10‘ Sclrred Eagie.

105 Nick Doyle.

105 The indinn Spy.

101 Job Donn.

108 The Wood King.

109 The Scelped Hunter.
110 Nick the Scout.

111 The Texan Ti er.
112 The Crolwd nivee.
113 Tiger-Hurt.

114 Muked Avenger.
115 The Pearl Fir-tee.
116 Black Panther.

111 Abdiel,theArenger.
1i8 Cato. the Cree er.
119 Two-Handed It.
120 Med Trail Hunter.
191 Bluk Nick.

19? Kit Bird.

1113 The S cter Ridm.
1% Giant ete.

1‘25 The Girl Ceptein.
126 Yankee Eph.

197 Silverepur.

191i untter Dick.

in T e Child Spy.

130 Mink Coat.

1M Red Plume.

139 Clyde, the Trailer.

 

133 The Lolt Ceche.

i“ The Cennihnl Chief.

135 Knrlibo.

136 Scarlet Moecnein.

131 Kidnapped.

138 Mnid of the Moun-
min.

139 The Scioto Sconte.

Nd Border Renegade.

Hi The Mute Chief.

142 Boone, the Hunter.

148 Mountein Kate.

I“ The Red Scalp".

115 The Lone Chief.
The Silver Bugle.
Chin a, Chayvune.
The ‘angled Trail.
The Unleen iiand.
The Lone indlen.
The Branded Cm .

. Billy Bowie .

The Valley cont.
Red Jacket.
The Jungle Scout.
Cherokee Chief.
The Bundit Hermit.
The Petriot Scout-
The “'ond Rnngerl
The Red Foe.
Beautiful Unknown.
Cenehrnke Mote.
Hunk. the Guide.
The Border Scout.
Wild N at.
Maid of Wyoming.
The Three Clptivel.
The Lo-t Hunter.
Border Law.
The Lifted Trail.
The Trader Spy.
The Foreet Specter.
The Border Fuel.
Border Venzennce.
Border Bennie.
The Soul of Liberty.
The Lott Bride.
Keeteea.
The 'l‘onkura Spy.
The Prnirie Scour‘e.
Red Liéhtning.
Brave eart.
Night/Hut): Kit.
Muttenz Sam.

1 Hurricane Bill.

186 The Red Ontlnw.

18'! The Swamp Scout.

 

138 The Shawnee’e be.

180 Mohawk Net

190 Old Jupe.

191 The Prairie Rilee.

192 Old Kyle, Trailer.

193 Big Foot. the Guide.

1“ Red Brotherhood.

195 The Men in Green.

196 glint-Eye, the Greet
o

t.
19'! The Prairie Tre
108 Black John. ppm
199 Keen-Knife.
W0 Med Skipper.
901 The Young Spy.
909 The indinn Avenger.
908 Riv-i LientennnIL
304 The Swamp Bifloe.
905 The Balloon Semi.

906 Buck-kin Bill.

900 Border Avenue".

910 Tim Bumble’e Chnr'e

911 The Shawnee Sent.

21! The Silent Slayer.

913 The Prairie Queen.

214 The Redwood-non.

915 The Prieoner of LI
Vlntreeee.

91$ Pele: Smith.

91'! The Witch oi the
Wellowi-h.

218 The Prnirie Pint“.

319 The Hun-r Capt-in.

910 The Red Spy.

2S1 Dick Darling.

99: Mustang Huntere.

913 Guilt or Not Guilty

9‘24 The utlew Renger.

315 Schnykiil Range".

996 On the Deep.

19'! iron.

228 The Mountaineer.

299 The Hunter‘l Eeenpe

930 'i he Golden Belt.

£81 The Swim Riderl.

732 Jnhen Hnw .

233 Mueneoit’e Daughter

33‘ The Mid Hunter.

935 The Reefer o! "It.

236 inteiope Ahe.

93'! The innter’e Vow.

238 .‘he Hunter’e Pledge

939 Rettiepeie.

NO The Pnirie Bride.

THE FOLLOWING WILL BE ISSUED [N THE ORDER AND 0h TH! DATES INDICATED:

341 Old Grizzly. the Bear Tamer. 8y Cnptnin Bruin Adame. Rudy September 18th.
3“ The Dllhin Dragoons. By C. Dunning Clnrk. Ready October 9d.
.48 Will-o’-the- leg. By Frederick H Dewey. Reed October 16th.
“4 Dnehin‘ Dick. y Oil Coornel. Ready October 301 .
“5 01d Croeeflro. Bv Captain Chnriee Howard. Reedy November ldih.

6 Ben Bramble. By Henry J. Thom-e. Ready November 97th.
'Bnd Cnptnln. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready December 11th.
Strn-vegy. B Oil Coomee. Reedy December 25th.
if. the hlef. Bv W. J. Hamilton. Ready Jnnuery 8th.

r rle Tigers. By jouph E. Badger, Jr. Rudy Jennnry 29d.

“1 The Rival lluntern. Bv Edward S. Ellie. Rendv February 5th.
.51 The Texan Scout. By Hnrr Hnuard. Rudy February 19th.
I“ Zebr. chk. By W. J. Hnmi ton. fiend March 4th.
’54 The Muslim! Meeeenger. By Herrick ohnetoue. Reedy Mnrch 18lh.
I“ he Brethren of the Genet. By John 8. Werner. Ready April ht.
“3 he Boy Spy. By 011 Cooniee. Reedy April 15th.

erziz;yxn.1.ll)li.ezbeg‘eelere; or eent poet—paid: eingle numhen, ten cenie‘, nix month. (II Nee.) .1.”

BEADLE AND ADAKS, Puhllehere, 98 William Street, New York-