which can bound across the Derwent like a bird with me on its back, is but a packhorse to one of these.' Alarm was visible in every face around-for we all knew what the apparition foreboded -a lost battle and a ruined cause. I heard my father say that the like sight appeared on Helvellyn side, before the battle of Marston-moor-with this remarkable difference--the leader wore on his head the semblance of a royal crown, whereas the leaders of the troop whom I beheld wore only earls coronets. Now his right hand protect us,' said the dame of Wilton-hall, what are we doomed to endure?-what will follow this?'- Misery to many,' answered the pedlar, and sudden and early death to some who are present.'Cease thy croak, thou northern raven,' said Walter Selby-if they are phantoms let them pass-what care we for men of mist?-and if they are flesh and bone, as I guess by their bearing they must surely be-they are good gallant soldiers of our good king, and thus do I bid them welcome with my bugle.' He winded his horn till the mountain echoed far and wide-the spectre horsemen distant nearly a quarter of a mile seemed to halt --and the youth had his horn again at his lips to renew the note, when he was interrupted by the pedlar, who, laying his hand on the instrument, said, 'young gentleman be wise, and be ruled— yon vision is sent for man's instruction-not for his scoff and his scorn' the shadowy troop now advanced, and passed towards the south at the distance of an hundred yards. I looked on them as they went, and I imagined I knew the forms of many living men -doomed speedily to perish in the battle field, or on the scaffold. I saw the flower of the jacobite chivalry-the Maxwells, the Gordons, the Boyds, the Drummonds, the Ogilvys, the Camerons, the Scotts, the Foresters, and the Selbys. The havoc which happened among these noble names, it is needless to relate--it is written in tale-related in ballad-sung in song-and deeper still it is written in family feeling and national sympathy. A supernatural light accompanied this pageant, and rendered perfectly visible horse and man-in the rear I saw a form that made me shudder-a form still present to my eye and impressed upon my heart-old and sorrow-worn as it is, as vividly as in early youth. I saw the shape of Walter Selby-his short cloak, his scarlet dress-his hat and feather-his sword by his side-and that smiling glance in his

deep dark eye which was never there but for me, and which I could know among the looks of a thousand. As he came, he laid his bridle on his horse's neck and leaned aside, and took a long look at me. The youth himself, full of life and gladness beside me, seemed to discover the resemblance between the spectrerider and him, and it was only by throwing myself in his bosom, that I hindered him from addressing the apparition. How long I remained insensible in his arms I know not, but when I recovered, I found myself pressed to the youth's bosom-and a gentleman with several armed attendants standing beside me-all showing by their looks the deep interest they took in my fate."* Lammerlea, Cumberland.

(To be Continued.)

ART. IX.-Alice and Berenger. From the French.

IN 1374, under the reign of Charles the fifth, so justly surnamed the Wise, was born, in a castle upon the banks of the Seine, a short distance from St. Germains, Berenger de Presles, son of a brave gentleman attached to the court of the king.

It was in the midst of the rejoicings on account of the truce, that the baptism of this infant was celebrated, to whom the king, in remembrance of the services of his father, appointed as godfather, John lord of Neuville, one of the most renowned captains and knights of that brilliant age. Berenger was yet in the cradle when his father died.

After he had attained his 12th year, the lady, his mother, having caused him to be instructed in the first principles of a military education, sent him to his illustrious godfather, to commence his career as a pursuivant, (a kind of apprenticeship, during which the pupil bore the lance and basnet of the knights, learned

* The attested account of this extraordinary vision, as we find it in the pages of several travellers, differs little from the narrative of Eleanor Selby; it is signed by two peasants, Daniel Stricket and William Lancaster, who with about twenty four other persons witnessed this spectral procession for several hours. Several learned men have written many wise pages, to prove that all this was either real or imaginary-a conclusion to which many will probably be able to come without the aid of learning.

to ride, and was instructed in the profession of arms.) On the morning of the day of his departure, the youth entered the chamber of his mother to receive her blessing. She made him recite the poem of Hugh of Fabarie upon the order of chivalry, and placed on his neck a small chain, by which was suspended a flint, which one of his ancestors had brought from the banks of the Jordan, and on which were engraved these words, "God, France, and Honor." The lady after having embraced her son, with tears, confided him to the care of an old servant, and ascended the turret of the castle to follow him with her eyes as far as it was possible.

Berenger did not arrive until the following day at the castle of Neuville. Its warlike appearance was the first thing that fixed his attention. The embattled walls, the marchecoulis, the wide fosse, the double drawbridge, the elevated keep, the bell of the chapel which was ringing the Ave Maria, at the moment when the young pursuivant arrived, all these objects, strangers to the peaceful environs of Presles, excited in his mind astonishment mingled with awe, of which he retained the impression, when he appeared ber fore the lord of Neuville.

This nobleman embraced him, promised to treat him as a son, and conducted him to the countess who received him in the most affectionate manner.

The little Alice, her daughter, one year younger than Berenger, and whose grace and beauty seemed to be beyond her age, was seated near her mother, who was teaching her to work in tapestry.

On the next day the pupil of the count, was initiated in his new office, and soon after subjected to all the duties of the military life, to which he was destined. The slightest fault was punished with a severity which often caused the tears of the good little Alice to flow; but Berenger consoled himself with the reflection that it was at the same price that the lord of Neuville had obtained the great fame which he enjoyed. Military exercises did not however occupy all the time of Berenger; he dedicated some hours every day to the study of poetry, which he passionately loved, and in which the prior de Rieux, great uncle of the countess, gave him instructions.

The prior had an irresistible passion for writing satires against the most distinguished personages of the court. Like all the li bellers of that time, who had much difhculty in keeping themselves

concealed, the wicked abbe took the precaution of placing himself under the veil of an anonymous writer. In order to be more secure, he caused his verses to be copied by the young scholar, who perceived not his malice, and who thought himself happy in learning at the price of a compliance of which he did not suspect the danger, the rules of the roundelay, the eclogue, and the ballad. Berenger loved the last kind of poetry only, and he soon composed with grace and facility, without perceiving that the name of Alice glided into all his verses, sometimes even at the expense of the measure.

The castle of Neuville was built on the coast and commanded the river Oise. At the end of the park, from the top of a small hill of which some rocks crowned the summit, a stream of pure water fell in a cascade and meandered in a wood of ash trees. It was from this place, whence the eye overlooked the plain, that the count usually set out for the chase, and hither in fine weather the countess and her daughter repaired to await his return. Berenger was always the first that Alice perceived, and the lord of Neuville, had scarcely descried the tower of the castle before Berenger informed him that Alice was at the place of meeting.

The habit of seeking and waiting at the same spot had inspired them with a lively attachment to the fountain of ash trees before they suspected that which they entertained for each other. The young scholar had been two years in the castle, where all seemed to contend who should love him most, when the count determined to appoint him his esquire.

Berenger was not fifteen and yet no one managed with more skill a warhorse, or carried with more grace the helmet, upon the bow of the saddle, nor understood better how to put on armour, to lace a cuirass, or to close a visor. In several dangerous encounters, when he had accompanied his noble master, he had displayed an intelligence and courage beyond his age. There was no talk at the court of Charles, but of the esquire of the lord of Neuville. Esteemed by his illustrious protector, beloved by his equals, secretly adored by the charming Alice, the object of his timid vows, he seemed to enter upon life under the happiest auspices. Alas! so lovely a morning was only the forerunner of a stormy day. After some time the most odious satires overflowed the court and

the city; and their author in the midst of the darkness which was spread around him, escaped the resentment of those whom he abused with so much violence and cowardice.

Young Berenger, hitherto a stranger to the world, to its passions, to its intrigues, was always, unconsciously, the instrument of the prior's malignity.

An historical event of great importance furnished the abbe of Rieux with a new occasion for employing his satirical pen, and he suffered it not to escape.

The duke of Berri had just failed through a want of foresight in a military expedition which had been skilfully planned. On this occasion the abbe composed some verses in which the delay which the duke had caused, to the execution of the king's orders, was interpreted in a manner the most injurious to the honour of the prince. Berenger had just copied the verses and had them about him, when the count charged him with an important message to the king. He set off immediately for Paris. His majesty was at Vincennes and was to return the same evening to the hotel Saint Pol where he then resided. Berenger waited on him there; he fulfilled the object of his mission, received orders to proceed to Fontainbleau where the queen was then, and did not return to Neuville, until he had been absent a week. He had been well received at court; he brought back a satisfactory answer to the despatches with which he had been charged. He went to see Alice after a separation of eight days. One may judge with what sentiments his heart was filled, with what ardour he urged on his swift steed.

Already he discovers, from the bank of the Oise, the turrets of the castle; he distinguishes the tops of the trees of the fountain of Ashes, which shine in the last rays of the sun; he recognises the chapel by the brilliant reflection of its window of stained glass. Standing upon his stirrups, his eyes fixed towards the fountain, he thinks he sees, or he beholds in reality the young Alice; she waves her handkerchief in the air. Berenger's horse no longer runs, he bounds, and leaping over the hedges and ravines, he bears in a moment the impatient youth to the foot of the hill. Alice, followed by the oldest of her women, rushes before him and in a voice stilled with tears, "fly," she cries, "fly Berenger; you have