night fell the enterprise was planned out. Messengers were sent out to the principal camps of the mountaineers, explaining the reason of this determination, and requesting them to hold themselves in readiness. When all was accomplished, Charles, who had seen the bay when hunting with Max, was ordered to lead the expedition, which set out towards midnight, travelling east and north towards the coast. For himself and Albert Max had another adventure. He had resolved that they alone together should penetrate to the centre of the city of Sandover, and nail a defiance on the public notice-post in the middle of the great square, describing his policy. The object of this dangerous attempt was not only to strike the Government with dread at the audacity of the adventurers, but also to publish his views to the whole land, for he had no doubt that the fame of the exploit would travel far and wide. While the expedition therefore went cast, Albert and Max stepped rapidly direct north, and never paused the whole night long. In the morning they found themselves in the cultivated fields, and hid in a great hayrick the whole of the day. At night they travelled again, followed sheep-tracks and unfrequented roads, till at last towards midnight they reached the banks of Sycamore Creek. Albert went to the willows and launched the speronare, while Max visited the blackened ruins of the farmhouses, and with much difficulty succeeded in extricating a box from the cupboard of his former apartment. This box contained the record of his journeys, with his maps, and plans, and several manuscripts in cipher, in which he preserved the useful knowledge he had learnt upon au infinite variety of subjects. He placed this box in the stern of the speronare, and Albert and he rowed slowly out into the creek. They passed over the sandbar at the entrance, for the tide was in, and, entering upon the open sea, met a gentle breeze from the north-west, which lifted the light, long bark up and down upon the waves. They followed the shore of the Sandover peninsular about a mile till nearly under the town, and then ran their boat ashore, and drew it up in a field of oats. Cautiously they crept in the darkness up to the walls, well aware of the only place where they could enter unobserved. The palace of King Aurelius was situated at this side, and his gardens ran just within the walls. They were full of trees and shrubs; and the dissolute servants had trained the ivy up the side of the wall, till it afforded a good and easy climbing-place, so as to enable them to enter and leave it without observation upon their intrigues. Both Max and Albert were well aware of this, and knew that they could easily enter, the only danger was that some servant should happen to use the ivy ladder at the same time. They crept up to the fosse, which was dry, for being on the top of a hill they could not fill it with water, listened, and hearing no sound, cautiously climbed up upon the wall. They crawled on hands and knees along the broad rampart till they reached the extremity of the king's garden, and then slid down an acacia-tree into it. Here there was a small arched postern door, leading out into the town. This door, as they well knew, was fastened with a spring lock-and could be opened from inside, but from without only with a key. Maximin gently opened it, but found it was kept well oiled and made no noise; Albert placed a small stone to keep it from closing behind them, and they entered the street. Here they almost ran up against a sergeant of the peace, and their guilty hearts fell; but he evidently took them for some courtiers in the darkness, and passed on. In a few minutes they gained the square, and came to the great post on which proclamations and decrees were nailed for the public to read. There was a parchment attached to it now. Maximin tore it down, and Albert unrolling their letter or pronunciamento, placed it against the post, and by the sheer power of a strong wrist, using his knife-handle to protect his fingers, he drove some small nails through the paper into the wood. They then turned and regained the narrow street; but as they came near the postern-gate heard, low voices, and saw a woman's white dress fluttering. They halted, and grasped their daggers; but in a moment the dress, and man with it, passed inside the postern-door. Heavens, if they shut it, said Maximin, we shall be caught like rats in a trap. Perforce they waited a few moments, and then went to the door. It was as they had left it-doubtless this was a nightly occurrence for some servant of the palace to place the door ajar, and was well understood by his comrades. They got up on the rampart again, and in five minutes were under the fosse. Their excitement, so long suppressed, now broke forth, and they tore at headlong speed across the fields and gardens for their boat. They launched it, cut the triangular sail, and were speedily slipping through the water towards the east. This was the proclamation they had nailed to the post : "I, Maximin, of Sycamore Creek, an outlaw, and proscribed, do hereby hurl defiance at Aurelius and all his effeminate and wornout race. I warn them to depart, and to make room for a new era and a new race. I denounce their cruelties, their exactions, their superstitions, and their falsehoods, to the people of the towns and lands which they have conquered. I denounce, moreover, the whole of the kings of the coast for similar evil deeds, and I call down the vengeance of the sky upon them, for that they do cherish and main. tain the detestable system of slavery, by which human beings are bought and sold as beasts of burden, and prisoners taken in war are sent out to distant captivity. I call upon them to abolish the mercenaries to dismiss the Cythes, and to disposses those of them to whom they have given land. Let Lyonesse be for the Lyonnais. I denounce the superstitions of the priests of Pheroon, and their influence over the people-down with them, throw open the monasteries, destroy the nunneries, dens of impurities and follies. And I will never cease to scourge ye till this is done." The speronare driven lightly before the breeze, reached the bay about seven the next morning, and there they found their friends and companions in arms. This bay or inlet was divided into two narrow harbours by an immense cliff, which sunk down near the land to a narrow isthmus, so narrow that it suggested the idea of cutting a canal, and so forming an inaccessible island. From the long white cliff they called it Alba-Longa. THE DESERTED SHRINE. FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. ОH, fane deserted, silent, and alone! Devotion weeps to see so sad a sight; O'er thee, the birch-trees sigh their plaintive moan, And yet of old morn smiled upon the towers That rose to greet the pilgrim's longing eye, Who heard thy chimes swell sweetly through the vale, And felt his heart resound their ecstasy. Behold the rosy dawn o'er spreads the sky; A grave procession comes with banners high, First, priests revered in gorgeous vestments dight; And stately dames, attired in garments white,- Above the rest, see one, divinely fair, Who droop's her close-veiled head upon her breast, Sighing in sadness, whilst all others there Advance in hope, by memory unoppressed. Why mourns she thus, as one without relief? A strange foreboding thrills her trembling heart, Glad taper's light to welcome wanderers home. Where oft she prayed in childhood's happier years, And meekly whispers sorrow's litanies; While, from her soft blue eyes, fall blinding tears. And as, through long-drawn aisle and dim-lit nave, As if her grief were near its latter end; And as the choirs their full-voiced anthem raise- Her woe she loses in the flood of praise, Faint, and more faint, earth's chorus dies away; There, angels shine, like glorious stars of light; There, martyrs stand, set free from death and chains; While he smiles greeting on her ravished sight, For whom she wept such streams of tearful pain. Her strife is o'er; she hears her call to rest; The air grows sad at sound of passing bell; The spell is past, the picture melts away, The fane stands desolate by night and day. W. F. S. NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE, A STRANGE DOWRY. BY MRS. ALFRED PHILLIPS. CHAPTER XXVII. "I had a message to send her, A. A. PROCTOR. "Heigh ho! for somebody!" MR. ADDISON was alone in the reception-room as I entered, waiting for dinner to be announced; he was busily engaged lavishing his attentions upon Miss Stanhope's sky-terrier, Gyp. He merely rose from his seat on seeing me, and, without remark, continued his game with the dog. The silence between us became so oppressive that I felt obliged to break it, and asked if he was fond of dogs. "I should think so, next to human beings. Indeed, I am not sure that I don't consider a good respectable dog whose qualities have been cultivated, superior to some human beings." "What! better than human beings, who have souls ?" "And who dares to deny a soul to a dog?" he asked, somewhat sternly. "And on what grounds do you give him one ?" I inquired. "Simply, that good is imperishable; and when I see love, faithfulness, and gratitude shine out of a dog's eye and manifest themselves in his actions, I say the poor brute, dumb as he is, has something indestructible about him-call it soul or what you will-that can never die. The animal will disappear, but the love, the gratitude, the faithfulness-grand noble qualities, either in men or dogs-will live on somewhere." At that moment Miss Stanhope and her brother put an end to the conversation by their entrance, and we went in to dinner. December.-VOL. X., NO. LX. 8 8 |