hour given from the iron tongue of St. Mary's spire. In four hours (he started at about seven) he has accomplished full sixty miles!

A few reeling topers in the street saw the horseman flit past, and one or two windows were thrown open; and Turpin was gone like a meteor, almost as soon as he appeared. Huntingdon is left behind, and the rider is once more surrounded by dew-gemmed hedges and silent, slumbering trees. Broad meadows, with drowsy cattle or low-bleating sheep, are on either side.

Onward, onward, through Stamford and Rutland and Melton Mowbray! The pace of Black Bess was absolutely terrific. Her eyeballs were dilated and glowed like flaming carbuncles; while her widelydistended nostrils seemed, in the cold moonshine, to snort forth smoke, as from a hidden fire. Fain would Turpin have controlled her; but no check could be given her headlong course, and, the only time in her submissive career, Bess resolved to have her own way and she had it.

And Dick Turpin's blood was again on fire. He rode like one insane, and his courser partook of his frenzy. She bounded, she leaped, she tore up the ground beneath her; while Dick gave vent to his exultation in one wild, prolonged halloo.

Away! away! thou matchless steed! yet brace fast thy sinews-hold, hold thy strength - for, alas, the goal is not yet attained. . . .

The sun was just overtopping the eastern hills when Turpin reached the ferry of Cawood and saw before him the deep and sluggish waters of the Ouse. The powers of his steed were spent and he could scarcely keep her from sinking. Nine miles only lay before him, and that thought aroused his courage. He hailed the ferryboat, which was then on the other side of the river; but at the same instant a loud shout smote his ear; it was the halloo of his pursuers!

Despair was in his look. He shouted to the boatman, and bade him pull fast. The man obeyed; but he had to breast a strong stream and his boat was heavy and sluggish. Another shout was raised by the pursuers. The tramp of their steeds grew louder and louder.

The boat had scarcely reached the middle of the stream. His captors were at hand. Quietly he rode down the bank, cautiously he entered the water. There was a plunge and steed and rider were swimming down the river.

Not many minutes elapsed ere the constables and their helpers rode up and paused at the brink of the stream. They hesitated, fearing to stem the tide...

Dick, meanwhile, had reached the opposite shore, and, refreshed by her bath, Bess scrambled up the sloping bank and speedily regained the road.

"I shall do it yet," shouted Dick. "That stream has saved her. Hark away, lass! Hark away!"

Fulford is passed. The towers and pinnacles of York burst into view, in all the freshness, the beauty, and the glory of a bright, clear, autumnal morn. "It is done it is won!" shouted Dick. "Hurrah! hurrah!" And the sunny air was cleft with his shouts.

Another mile is passed. York is near.

“Hurrah!” shouted Dick; but his voice was suddenly hushed. Black Bess tottered fell. There was a dreadful gasp a parting moan a snort. Her eye gazed for an instant upon her master; then grew glassy, rayless, fixed. A shiver ran through her frame. Her heart had burst.

Dick's eyes were blinded, as with rain. His triumph, though achieved, was forgotten. His own safety was disregarded. He stood weeping and moaning, like one beside himself.

"And art thou gone, Bess?" he cried, in a voice of agony. "Gone! gone! and I have killed the best steed that was ever crossed. And for what?" added he, beating his brow with his clenched fist "for what? for what?"

At that moment the deep bell of the Minster clock tolled out the hour of six.

"I am answered," gasped Dick. "It was to hear those strokes!"

- Adapted from "Rookwood," by William Harrison Ainsworth.

TR

Trap! trap! went the gray;

But pad! pad! pad! like a thing that was mad,

My chestnut broke away.

It was just five miles from Salisbury town,
And but one hour to-day.

Thud! thud! came on the heavy roan,
Rap! rap! the mettled gray;

But my chestnut mare was of blood so rare,
That she showed them all the way.
Spur on! spur on! I doffed my hat,
And wished them all good day.

They splashed through miry rut and pool,
Splintered through fence and rail;

But chestnut Kate switched over the gate,
I saw them droop and tail.

To Salisbury town - but a mile of down;
Once over this brook and rail.

Trap! trap! I heard their echoing hoofs
Past the walls of mossy stone;

The roan flew on at a staggering pace,
But blood is better than bone.

I patted old Kate, and gave her the spur,
For I knew it was all my own.

But trample! trample! came their steeds,
And I saw their wolves' eyes burn;
I felt like a royal hart at bay,

And made me ready to turn.

I looked where highest grew the may,
And deepest arched the fern.

I flew at the first knave's sallow throat;
One blow and he was down.

The second rogue fired twice, and missed;

I sliced the villain's crown.

Clove through the rest, and flogged brave Kate, Fast, fast to Salisbury town!

Pad! pad! they came on the level sward,

Thud! thud! upon the sand;

With a gleam of swords, and a burning match,
And a shaking of flag and hand;

But one long bound, and I passed the gate,
Safe from the canting band.

-Walter Thornbury.