The mother was an elf by adventure

Ycome, by charmes or by sorcery.-Chaucer.

THERE always appears to be, amongst the wonderful ingredients of which a human mind is composed, one little seed, or germ of superstition, which requires only to be watered by the cold dewdrops that fall from the brow of fear, fanned by the breath of falsehood, and then warmed by the heat of imagination, to grow, to bud, to bloom, and in its turn bear seed, to propagate its kind in other minds. Ignorance is now well known to be its native soil, and there it flourishes to an extent, almost miraculous in its power. By superstition, the giant becomes a child; the poor weak maid, whose trembling eyelids scarcely dared to rise, fearing to meet an unkind look, rushes undaunted to the field of blood, and with her single arm, makes armies fly before her !

Again it rises in another form, and takes the deepest root in minds that think themselves religious; it is here its fruit is bitterest, bloodiest, and its branches spread the farthest. To this fell tree, we owe our own dread word, assassin. The Assassins were a religious eastern sect, who wandered secretly about the earth, to murder all their misthought holy chief denounced, their superstitious minds being taught that such vile acts were passports sure to heaven. It is to superstition we owe millions of cold-blooded murders by fire, and sword-by tortures, whose mere relation makes our own flesh creep upon our bones. How many a poor old wretch has been torn limb from limb, amidst the laughter of a mocking crowd, because some ignorant superstitious fool, who dared profane the livery of HIM who preached but MERCY, PITY, and FORGIVENESS, pronounced her WITCH !

Education has done much to eradicate from our soil this noxious weed. But superstition is like a cancer, you may cut off the main body, you may tear it out, as you believe, by the very roots, but still there will remain some shred, some fibre, that if but nurtured, would again spring forth in all its old deformity. In witness of its tenacity in the human mind, do we not see even in these, supposed to be enlightened days,

We have entered into this slight dissertation upon superstition, from an amiable feeling towards our hero, Edward Osborne, fearing that the apparent tendency to superstition in his mind, might lower him in the estimation of our readers; but when we remember that he lived in one of the most superstitious eras in English History, we may surely forgive him for possessing the same dread of supernatural powers, and of witchcraft, that haunted the minds of the then most learned and enlightened of our land.

Osborne, be it remembered, had seen the ghost, or believed he had done so, of a man, whom he had witnessed commit two murders! He had known that man to be executed, principally by his agency, in a manner the most lingering and appalling; and in his hand, he then beheld an invitation, written in blood, to attend some unholy rite, that should reveal to him his own future fate. Osborne was no coward; nor was King Henry, although he trembled at the prophecies of the monkly- instigated impostor, the " Holy Maid of Kent;" but still it must be confessed, that Edward, as the hour drew nigh for his promised journey to the hut of the Witch of the Marsh, felt his heart, in a slight degree, fail him. " Was he again to meet the dead ?"

There is something so dreadful in the thought, that we readily forgive the shudder that ran through his every nerve, as he asked himself the question. We have often thought, and are doing so now, literally at the "midnight hour," for the clock of the same old church of St. Luke, which witnessed Osborne's saving the life of the drowning boy off Chelsea, is now sounding in our ear-yes, we have often thought what would be the real effect on the human mind, did a real ghost stalk into our room-not a vague shadow, an undefined something, we knew not what, which might by argument be accounted of, but one of which there could be no doubt. The more we reflect, the more certain we are that were a ghost really to appear, the sight would blast the mind- every feeling of nature would be frozen up, perhaps in death; or if a thaw should come again, it would leave the brain one mass of madness. No, no; no man that lived to tell it, has ever seen a ghost !

The doubt of the possibility that such a thing could be, gave Osborne courage sufficient to make him fulfil his promise made to the Cripple.

As the evening approached, Osborne was lost in an ocean of perplexities. His master and Horton being away, he felt himself more than ever responsible. The men employed in the merchant's business being gone, and the shop shut up, he found himself alone in the house with Flora Gray. Where could his mistress be? she had left home in the morning, as usual, to take her riding-lesson with Sir Filbut Fussy, but had not yet returned.

Such a circumstance had never occurred before, and Flora became uneasy,

Osborne, whose mind was full of his own projects, paid much less attention to Flora's alarm than he otherwise would have done; and, indeed, he felt rather glad that his mistress was from home, as it saved him the necessity of inventing an excuse for quitting the house so late in the evening; when he did so, he did it with reluctance, not because he so much dreaded the business he was going upon, but that he felt it unkind to leave poor Flora Gray in the place alone, now she had pictured to her mind all sorts of coming horrors. It certainly was strange that his mistress should not have returned long ere that late hour; but still a few minutes, no doubt, would see her and her dear child, the little Anne; so leaving Flora gossipping with Alice Vaughan,the lantern maker's pretty daughter opposite, he placed his flat cap upon his head, and arming himself with his apprentice-club, sallied forth, under the fearful anticipation, that he was about to learn something strange, if not of dire import to his future fate.

There is in the breast of every human being, a longing desire to look into futurity-a lingering hope that there might be found some strange good fortune stored up for them in the womb of time ; but it seldom occurs to any, that perchance appalling misfortunes might there be found instead. There are few living, who have not, in one way or another, endeavoured to cheat the future out of its secrets, some by the stars, some by the cards; the palm of the hand too, is a favourite book of fate; and some even now fancy, that whole lives may be found written upon the sybilline leaves in the bottom of a cup. If such follies still find votaries in this, our age, Edward Osborne may surely be excused for pursuing the phantom of prophecy, living as he did at a time, when to have denied witchcraft, would have been regarded next to insanity.

There was one thing connected with fortune-telling which struck him as very odd, and that was, why did nature always pick out the most contemptible and ignorant of human beings, to be the repositories of her hidden secrets ? But still he had heard so many strange fulfilments of old women's prophecies, that, although he could not prevent a rising doubt occasionally obtruding itself upon his mind, yet he thought it quite possible that the mother of the Bridge-shooter might be a real witch, notwithstanding her son's denial of the fact. He had himself been subjected to a visitation of so awful a nature, which to account for

The evening which had commenced in beauty, was changing, as the hand of night began to close the curtains of the day ; the wind which had hitherto been sighing, and softly kissing the roses that lay in Flora's lap, came now in angry gusts of sudden violence, then as suddenly died away; lurid clouds, sailing for the south, were covering up the heavens, and Osborne fancied that more than once, he heard a murmuring, like the whispered voice of distant thunder; the few boats he met seemed to be hurrying homewards to escape the threatened hurricane; not a star was to be seen, and the whole sky was now become one dark mass of storm-fraught clouds.

This unexpected change in the weather, added not a little to the unpleasant feelings which were rapidly taking possession of his mind; not a scene of horror that had lately passed, but now arose once more before his imagination with all the vivid colouring of a dream. Just as he was passing the very spot where the murder had been committed, the whole artillery of heaven burst over his head in one appalling clap of thunder, that made him pause aghast, paralyzed by the awfulness of the sound; sheets of fire illumined the entire skies; peals of thunder came in rapid succession; then the clouds transforming themselves into a deluge, fell in torrents upon the earth. Every nerve was exerted by Osborne to carry his skiff quickly to the shore, but the winds were fierce against him, and more than once had nearly precipitated him headlong into the angry flood. At last he succeeded in driving his boat upon the shore, then jumping out he dragged it as far up as his unaided strength would permit him out of the dangerous influence of the stream. He secured it to a pole that stood near, and which he found, by the aid of the sheets of lightning that flickered for seconds together over the desolate marshes, and having done so, was about to bend his steps towards the hut, whose fire-lighted window pointed out the direction in which it lay, when, turning once more to assure himself that the boat was well secured, he raised his eyes, and stood aghast at finding he had fastened it to the shaft of a gibbet, from the arm of which hung down an iron cradle, upon whose ribs the lightning played so incessantly, that he plainly saw within it a human head, and as it swung towards him in the howling wind, he recognised the dreaded features of the Bully. It now recurred to his memory, that the Cripple had told him it was that morning to be placed up the marshes, as a warning to other evil doers. He hurried away, and was soon tapping at the witch's door.

"Come in, Edward Osborne," the old witch inside was heard to say; and at the same moment, the latch flew up with a sharp clink, and the door stood open. How it came so, he was at a loss to guess, for the old woman was seated at some distance off, watching a pot that was hanging by a long hook over the fire, and had her back turned towards the door. Her knowledge, too, of whom it was that had sought her hut, at such an unlikely hour, puzzled him a good deal, but it well prepared his mind to believe in her supernatural gifts. " Why have you loitered thus ? The death-watch has ticked the tenth hour long ago; and think you that fate will tarry to suit the slothfulness of mortals ?"

Edward closed the door, for the storm was still raging; then advancing towards the fire, he was struck by the painful expression of the old woman's face-the hand of fear seemed to have seized upon her whole frame, for she trembled in every limb-even the words she had already spoken had come falteringly from her tongue.

" Are you ill, good mother ?" inquired Edward, kindly; " has my unexpected appearance terrified you ?"

" Thy appearance terrified me ! Thy appearance unexpected! No, no ! But I have cause for trembling, ample cause: we ask not questions of the white lips of death, without our own becoming blanched as well -we ask not the voice of the grave to speak to us, with its earthy breath, without our own breath faltering in its unhallowed task."

Here she took up a dead toad, and dropping it into the boiling pot, stirred it about, as her shrivelled lips appeared to be muttering some mystic charm.

Osborne's nerves were now so completely unstrung, that he had no longer power to reason upon what he saw or heard, but seemed to feel that he had unwisely placed himself entirely within the power of the beings of another world; he tried to offer up a prayer, but his memory flew away affrighted, and all he could do, was to repeating again and again a Parcel of unconnected words.

After a determined effort to subdue his nervous fear, he said-" Good mother, let me at once tell you my errand here, and then--"

" You may save your breath," said the old woman, interrupting him, save your breath, for you may want it ere another hour be past; for, see, the toad sinks to the bottom-an evil sign, an evil sign ! Besides, your errand is far better known to me than to thyself. Think you, that if I have the power of satisfying your longing to look into the glass of fate, that I should lack the power of knowing what impelled your curiosity ? No, no ! all is known to me-all is known to me! The charm is nearly wrought; when 'tis fully done, then ask me what you will, and I will answer." Here she once more stirred round the boiling pot, and once more her lips moved, as muttering a charm. " 'Tis done !" she said; then suddenly rising, placed a stick through the handle of the pot, and holding one end, she motioned to Edward to take the other, and thus between them they lifted the boiling cauldron off the hook by which it hung, and carried it towards the side of a wretched bed, which stood in a recess at the further end of the room. The flickering light of the fire alone illumed the miserable hovel, and threw deep shades from every thing that intercepted its uncertain rays.

Osborne started at seeing a figure moving near him-it was his own shadow on the wall. He blushed at his cowardice, and in a resolute tone expressed his impatience to learn his fate, be it good or evil.

" Thou wilt know it too soon, I fear. But take this egg, and from thine own height drop it into the boiling water-it will tell thy death."

Osborne would have rather learnt some more agreeable part of his destiny first, for it seemed to his mind unnatural to begin with the end; but being anxious now to bring his interview with the witch of the marsh as speedily as he could to a termination, he did all he had been

He did so, but started back, for the whole water had become the co our of blood.-" What means this change ?" said Edward, in a faltering voice.

" That thy death will be a bloody one; and as the egg which held thy doom has burst so soon, it will be as speedy as 'tis bloody !"

If Osborne did now feel his veins run chilly cold, and an icy sensation fixing upon his heart, there could be but little wonder: he feared to believe her words, yet longed to prove their truth or falsity. If true, he knew he could not avoid his fate--if false, the sooner his mind were relieved the better; so he said--" Witch, or fiend, or devil-be you one or all, I'll put your soothsaying to the proof, or I will swear away your life, and have you burnt in Smithfield, for the witch you pretend to be ! The cause of my coming here was a command from the dead: if you possess, in truth, your vaunted power, call up again the vision that haunted me in the midnight chapel !"

"And would you dare to look upon that form again ?" said the old woman, trembling.

" I would," replied Osborne, "and from his dead lips learn the truth or fasity of your prediction."

" Be warned in time !" the old woman exclaimed.

"Impostor ! trifle no more !" Osborne said, savagely.

" Then thus of thy blood I wash my hands." As she uttered these words, she moved her hands about, one over the other, as if in the act of washing them, and then continued-" 'rake that burning brand in thy right hand, and with thy left remove the coverlid from off yonder bed."

She had pronounced this sentence with such evident self-belief in her own powers, that Osborne hesitated for a moment to fulfil her injunctions; but sneering at his own credulity, he seized the brand, and tearing the tattered clothes from off the bed, stood transfixed with horror, for there he saw the body of the Blear-eyed Bully, lying as though he had been again in life.

"Wilt thou ask thy fate of him ?" demanded the old woman, in a voice trembling with emotion.

"No, no-I dare not !" Osborne replied, as he fell sinking to the earth.

"Then learn it unasked !" exclaimed a voice of thunder. The figure rose up suddenly, and in another instant Osborne found himself within the iron grasp of a giant. Two men, or fiends he knew not which, rushed from behind the bed, and before he had the power to collect a single thought, they bound him hand and foot, and he was powerless; the old woman had fallen dead or senseless upon the ground.

So suddenly had all the latter portion of this strange scene occurred, that Edward fancied he must be in a dream; but he was soon made sensible of the reality of his awful position.

"Fool!" said the ghost, for such Osborne still found it difficult to persuade himself it was not; " and did a boy like you dream of playing with the lives of men, and think that none were living to avenge the

" Monster!" exclaimed Edward, "you will not dare to put your horrid threat into execution; and if you would, these men, if men they be, cannot stand by and see so bloody a crime committed."

Ha,ha, ha, poor boy !" the other replied; "open your eyes and gaze upon them well; you have met before-the murderers of the weaver; those who assisted then are not the most likely to withhold a helping hand in such a trifle as a baby's death. Come, away with him ! Don't be afraid that you shall die too soon; 'give and take' is our maxim. You provided a lingering death for my brother-his brother shall find a lingering one for you. You shall suffer drowning a dozen times before we hang you up to die."

The other two wretches now hurried with Osborne borne between them, struggling with all the might his bound limbs could muster; he screamed out murder with all the strength despair could bring him, but his cries were only answered by the mocking wind and laughter of those who had him so completely in their power. They threw him into the water; he struggled hard, but they held him down until they believed him nearly dead; then drew him forth, and laid him on the ground until he should recover consciousness sufficient to endure a second death. They all sat down beneath the gibbet to watch him. The storm of thunder and lightning had passed away; the wind still howled as ]oudly as ever, but its violence broke up the clouds into large masses, which rolling away in awful grandeur, let in the moonlight, which, for the time, rendered all around as clear as day. "Do you hear him breathe ?" said the brother of the Bully ; to which the other answered,

" Who can hear anything, with such a bellowing wind as this ? I wish you'd let us hang him up at once, for see, he moves."

"Well, do as you like," said the first speaker, "he will make a pretty example, and a glorious warning to other meddling apprentices, when he is found hanging here in the morning. Oh! it's turned desperately cold," he added, as he seemed to be seized with a fit of ague; "the sooner the work be ended, the better, for I must get something to warm me now. Slip this noose over his neck, and let us haul him up at once." As he said this, he rose up, and threw an end of a rope over the arm of the gibbet, as the other men were fixing the noose round the neck of the affrighted Osborne, who had recovered full consciousness of his dreadful situation. He gave all the resistance his helpless state would allow, and endeavoured again to scream aloud.

"Run and untie the boat," said the principal of the wretches; the other hastened to the gibbet and did as he was told, while the Blear- eyed Bully's twin-brother, jumping into the boat, pushed off to the rescue of his companion. He had scarcely accomplished the task, when the man at the gibbet ran frantically to the water's edge, and madly called upon them to return, and take him aboard the boat. As the boat touched the shore, and the man placed his foot upon it, a loud shout of voices was heard near at hand. " Away, away," he said, "or we are lost ! See yonder crowd running hither; pull for your lives, pull, pull !" The boat in which the murderous wretches now found means to escape, was the one Osborne had come in.

Who can paint the revulsion of feelings which at this moment nearly overpowered the poor youth! Despair, rushing so suddenly from his bursting heart, found vent in a violent flood of tears; death seemed flying before his eyes, chased by a new-born life. The crowd that now came running and shouting toward him was composed principally of peasants, some armed with sticks, spades, and brooms, and others with pitchforks, upon the points of which they had hung lanterns, to hold high up in the air, as signals that aid was approaching. What was Osborne's astonishment to observe that the throng was headed by the Cripple of the Bridge-gate Tower, who bounded over the earth like a swift mountaineer, aided by his long staff Another surprise was to observe the peasants carrying the witch upon their shoulders, and at the same moment to find his bonds being loosened by his faithful, humble friend, Billy-the-Bridge-Shooter! The moment Edward found himself free, he fell upon his knees and thanked his God; then he jumped up, and danced, and cried, and laughed, and kept hugging every body who came within his reach; then he sank once again upon the earth, and burst into a more violent fit of tears than ever. Numbers lined the edge of the water, and shouted execrations towards the wretches in the fast-receding boat. Osborne was soon conveyed back again to the hut; dry clothes were put on him, which were speedily collected, part from one, part from another, of the bystanders, so that, as he sat by the replenished fire, he looked anything but the comely lad he really was. The old woman, too, was paid great attention to by the peasants, who really did believe her to be a witch, for, as they said, "who was it gave them such good crops, if it was not her charms ?"

An explanation of the means of Osborne's almost miraculous delivery was soon entered upon, by which it appeared that the Cripple of the Bridge, who had himself too much to do with the dead to give credence to the possibility of the grave ever again giving up its prey to walk the earth as unmeaning ghosts, imagined that some trick, but not of a serious nature, was to be played off upon Edward, for the sake of

He said--" He must own he had become intensely interested by the scene, up to the bursting forth of the three ruffians, when his wonder changed to alarm for Edward's safety: he knew that his own single power was of no avail, so that when the murderers were dragging Edward from the hut, he hurried away to seek for aid: not knowing the marshes, he lost himself amongst the ditches and dikes; and then to his horror, found himself again near the hut; but this was the saving of the youth's life, for here he met the old woman, with feeble steps, trying to hurry away for aid; she pointed out the only road to the neighbouring village, to which, with long jumps he took with his trusty staff; he soon arrived, and was immediately on his return with the whole village at his heels."

It appeared, by the old 'woman's account, that three ruffians had come to her hut, and after beating and torturing her, they swore they would drag out her tongue, roast it, and make her eat it; they would then tear out her eyes; and last of all, they would set her upon her own fire, and burn her to death, if she did not do all they commanded. They placed themselves in such positions, that not only could they hear every word she said, but also see, whether by look or sign, she should attempt to give Osborne the least warning of his dreadful fate. She said the dead toad and the egg, that seemed to change the water to blood, were brought by one of the men, whom she guessed, from what fell from their lips, to be one of the conjurors who attended the fairs, and cheated the poor people out of their pence.

" Vell, mother," said Billy-the-bridge-shooter, " I do hope now you vill give up your darling vitchcraft; you vosn't made for a vitch, you vosn't; upon my life you vosn't; and you never can be a vitch as long as you lives!"

The poor old woman hung down her head, and seemed to be thinking that her son was, very likely, not far from right, but said nothing.

Edward Osborne's clothes being now thoroughly dried, and he, finding himself wonderfully invigorated by a famous supper, which had been provided by the Bridge-shooter, who, having found himself possessed of a fortune, as he called it, namely, a few shillings, received for his attendance at the loading of the vessels belonging to merchant Hewet, had, upon arriving in town, spent the greater part in food and comforts for his old mother, and it was to bring them to her,

The Bridge-shooter insisted upon his mother removing at once into the neighbouring village; "for he was not going to have her murdered there, to please her, or anybody else." She did not object much, for she began to dread another visit from her three friends of that night, who had made anything but a favourable impression on her mind.

In those days, the furniture in most houses, was of no great extent; use was more studied then, than ornament. Our forefather's feet were well satisfied to tread upon the plain boards; or, if a little gentility must be assumed, a few rushes answered all the purposes of a modern velvet-piled carpet; and as for linen, we may presume there was no great stock kept, that commodity being generally manufactured upon the premises, excepting the finer sorts, and those were imported from abroad, which made them rather too costly to be in common use. If the general run of furniture was thus simple in really decent dwellings, it will not be surprising that, but a few minutes sufficed for the packing of the whole household stuffs belonging to the witch of the marsh.

Each of the party carrying a portion, they were soon ready 'to run away by the light of the moon,' which they speedily did.

The Bridge-shooter carried the old bedstead and bedding and all, which was no very heavy load, the old woman, the Cripple, and Edward, managed the rest, and thus they trudged along towards the village. They had not proceeded many hundred yards, before the old woman started so suddenly, that the whole party had nearly let all the things fall in alarm.

"Heavens!" she exclaimed, " where is my spirit-where is my spirit? I'll not go without my spirit."

Vot, you're at your vitchery again, mother, are you ?" said her son.

The old woman made no answer, but was at once turning back, when she was arrested by her spirit" crying " mew, mew!" It turned out to be a large old black cat, that had followed them from the hut, and which the old woman sincerely believed was a spirit that could tell her all the wonders of the hidden world, although it must be confessed it had never told her anything yet, and perhaps never would. The ancient dame took up the old cat, who purring, nestled in her bosom, and on again the party trudged. The old woman was comfortably lodged in the village, and the other three started off towards Old London Bridge.

As they journeyed along, the conversation naturally turned upon the recent occurrences, and Billy-the-bridge-shooter began to moralize upon the old adage of " a man that is born to be hanged, will never be drowned." " That's uncommon true," said he; "but then the rascals vonted to leave you not no choice at all, for they would have hanged and drowned you too, if they could. Now to-night has proved to me, that there is a third chance left for us all-and that is-ven a man is born to die in his bed, he'll never be hanged nor drowned neither."

"Why, friend," said the Cripple of the Bridge-gate-tower, " you're quite a philosopher."

"So mother says," replied the lad, " she often calls me a philisossifer; and vy do you think she calls me by that rum namo ? Vy, because I

" Because," replied the Cripple, " the greater part of the world finds it a difficult task to speak the truth."

"I think," said the Bridge-shooter, " it's a precious deal more difficulter to tell lies. I finds it so, I know. Vy, truth slips out so smooth and easy; vun never has to think about that; but ven you've got to tell a lie, my viskers ! haven't you got to think of a lot of other things as vell, only to keep you from being found out."

Edward 'Osborne, who had been too deeply engaged with his own thoughts, upon the strange web of fate that seemed to be gathering around him, to pay much attention to the philosophical disputation between the Bridge-shooter and the Cripple of the Bridge-gate-tower, now interrupted their discourse, by observing-" It is evident, too evident, that I have at last made an enemy, who will in all likelihood pursue me through life to my ruin, or to my death; for this bold, this fiend-like attack upon me to-night, shews that he who planned it, is as unrelenting as he his ferocious. And my good master, too, it appears, is to be persecuted as well; and why? because we were the cause of bringing a murderer to justice."

" If that's it," said the Bridge-shooter, " I had better look out myself, for I think I had a little bit of a hand in that affair; for in diving to the bottom of the Thames, I happened, by good luck, to dive to the very bottom of all the mystery, and brought the dead weaver and the truth to light at the same time. Now, Villy," he continued, addressing the Cripple, " vot is your advice in this matter? vot course think you will be the best, I mean the safest for us all ? If ve make a stir about tonight's business, ve shall get the whole of Alsatia, and the Clink into the bargain, about our ears; the pretty lads in them quarters are no boys to mince matters, or be behind hand with you, unless in the hand behind they hold a knife; I know 'em vell I think, as Master Edward is safe now, the less we says about the business the better. ' A silent tongue makes a vise head,' as an old rip that I knows always says, ven he don't vont you to tell of his rogueries."

" For the present," replied the Cripple of the Bridge-gate-tower, "you are right. It is only a fool who lets the spring go, until he is sure the rat is in the trap. Besides, there are more wheels at work, than those we see; by letting this one turn on, and watching carefully, we may find a way of stopping the whole at once."

"How strangely," said Osborne, "does man's life at times suddenly vary, and upon such mere chances too. Until these last few weeks, I was a simple plodding apprentice, with not a care to trouble me-not a change from day to day, from week to week-nay, months and years were all the same to me, one unvarying round of monotonous existence, when all at once, I find myself in the centre of a whirlpool of dangers. There is one thing I have never yet been able to account for, and it has caused me many and many a weary hour of thought, of anxious conjecture- that is, the mystery which has always surrounded the circumstance of my good master being warned of the danger, which we now know was

" Ha, ha ! ho, ho ! he, he---!" screeched the Cripple; "how simple do mighty things appear, when the veil of mystery be removed; and yet it seemed like fate that sent the chance to me."

"You !" exclaimed Edward and the Bridge-Shooter at the same time, as they looked inquiringly at the Cripple.

Yes," he replied, " it was I who warned your master. On the night of May-day, at the deadest hour of that night, I was restless, and wandered about the Bridge; when, seeing two lurking figures approaching towards my tower, I entered, extinguished my lamp, and was about to fall upon my couch once more, when my ear caught the sound of voices close to the little casement in my tower wall. ' We shall have him safe enough there,' said one. I started up, and placing my ear close to the opening of the window, heard enough to tell me the plot that was laid against you, and all about the letter recommending that you should be sent to Woolwich. It was I who wrote the note which may be said to have saved your life; it was I who instructed the boy to deliver it as he did; and I, too, it was, who sent for the Bridge-Shooter; but he knew not from whom the message and money came."

Osborne expressed his wonder, and also his gratitude. Little more occurred of any consequence until they reached the Bridge.

When they arrived there, the Cripple took out a large key from his pouch, and opening the door of the Bridge-gate tower, bade his companions a right good night, and entered, singing-

"Death is here, and death is there,

And death is round us everywhere."

As he closed the door, Edward heard the old owl, whoo-oo-ooping out a welcome to her husband, as the Cripple called himself; and then Osborne, with the Bridge-shooter, continued his way across the Bridge to the merchant's house. Arrived there, Osborne was surprised and alarmed at seeing lights moving from room to room. He knocked loudly. The door was soon opened by Flora Gray, who was crying bitterly.

"What has happened ?" exclaimed Edward, whose alarm was now greatly increased.

" Oh ! oh! oh! oh !" was the only answer the broken-hearted girl could utter.

" For Heaven's sake, Flora, speak! speak ! what has happened ?"

Oh ! oh ! oh !" again sobbed the poor girl, at the same time pointing with her fore-finger to the rooms above.

Osborne, comprehending her meaning, started up stairs, and hurrying into the front apartment, where he saw a light, he was amazed to find his master sitting there, apparently lost in grief.-" Master ! dear master !" exclaimed Osborne, " what, in Heaven's name, has happened ?"

" I know not," replied his master, taking a deep-drawn breath.

" My wife-my Alice-and my poor child !" His utterance became choked, and burying his face within his two hands, his head sank upon the table near which he sat.

Osborne felt that at that moment he ought not to press his master upon the cause of his grief; so again hurried down, and learnt from the

" No, no !" said Flora; " I know what my own opinion is, but that I shall keep to myself: I'll not let my tongue ruin any poor soul breathing-no, I'd rather have it torn out first !"

" Good Heavens !" exclaimed Edward, his thoughts being turned into a new train, by what Flora had said, " good Heavens ! I will never believe that such purity----"

" That's what master says," replied Flora, sobbing. " He believes she's dead, and wont hear a word against her."

Osborne, whose suspicions being aroused, now called to mind many and many circumstances, mere trifles in themselves, yet all tending to confirm his worst fears. He at once determined to have these fears resolved. He sent off the Bridge-shooter to several places, where it was just possible some tidings of his mistress might be obtained, while he himself hurried away, without hinting at where he was going, straight to the lodgings of Sir Filbut Fussy.

When he arrived there, notwithstanding the day had not yet broken, he found persons busily employed, carrying away chests and trunks; and when he inquired whether Sir Filbut was there, they told him they believed he had gone abroad, and that all his things, with the exception of the few they were then taking to the wharf, had sailed several days before for Italy. Sadly, indeed, did he return to the merchant's house; but here, if a doubt yet lingered in his still-hoping mind, he learnt that which annihilated doubt and hope together.

While Osborne had been away, Flora was occupied in prying about, in every corner of her mistress's room, seeking she knew not what, yet hoping to discover some clue to the mysterious cause of her mistress's absence. At last, in the corner of the hearth, in which a fire had recently been burning, she found several pieces of a torn letter, some of them partially consumed, and discoloured by the flames, others blotted, as if by tears, yet leaving sufficient words plain enough to reveal the real nature of the writing. These words were of the most ardent and passionate nature, breathing unalterable affection for her to whom they were addressed; whom that might be, for some time remained uncertain, until again raking over the ashes, two more pieces, nearly consumed, were found; on one the name of " Alyce" could clearly be decyphered, on the other the initials " F. F."

Flora could not conceal her discovery for a single moment, but with the damning evidence, rushed into the presence of her master, just as Edward and the Bridge-shooter had entered.

When the merchant was told what she had found, and he cast his eyes upon the fatal words, in characters he knew full well, he, with the fragments firmly clenched within his two uplifted hands, threw himself with violence upon his knees, and looking towards heaven, his lips moved, but those around heard not what he said: was it a prayer he offered ? or was it a blighting curse he then called down from Heaven?