in the solitudes of Castleton Park, instead of the more interesting regions of Mayfair and Belgravia. "The old one is up to some new dodge or other; of that there can be little doubt. There is no alternative for me that I can see but to come to terms with him; and in the meantime I'll just ride over to Selborne and see what light Waddinghead can throw upon the subject." Such was the soliloquy of the heir-apparent, as he rang the bell, to order his horse to the door.

It was a beautiful afternoon, as Mr. Capel proceeded on his journey. The freshness of the air, and the brilliant sunshine were not without their effect in soothing any remains of irritation which the conversation of the morning had left upon his mind, and by the time he had arrived at the curate's residence, he had almost made up his mind that it would be possible for him to protract his existence where he was for the next month—a fact of which he had at first entertained considerable doubts.

The Rev. Julius Waddinghead rose from his arm-chair as his guest was announced; he had been caught in the act of writing a sermon, which was by no means an operation of easy performance with him. He was a middle-aged man, rather good looking than otherwise, but betraying in his aspect few indications of the profession to which he belonged. The perpetual curate of Selborne would have made a firstrate cavalry officer. He was but an indifferent clergyman, not that he was at all wanting in the performance of his routine of daily duty, which he attended to with a zeal that could not be mistaken. His sermons, too, were unexceptionable; his doctrine was orthodox; his life blameless, but somehow he was not in especial favour. For ten long years he had held the curacy and done all the hard work, and he was likely as far as appearances went, to hold it for as many more. Some said the bishop, who had himself risen from the humble position of a private tutor, disliked the curate because he was a gentleman, others that he dressed too well and wore his hat with too jaunty an air. But, however it was, while men with less merit stepped into snug benefices, the curate of Selborne remained unpromoted. Clarence Capel and he had been at college together, where they were both gay men, and the friendship then

formed had continued the same without interruption, for albeit not a divine of any great talent, the Rev. Julius Waddinghead was a kind-hearted, hospitable man, and a gentleman.

"Come to dine with me I hope; I'll give you a bottle of the old yellow sealthere's not more than a dozen of it left."

"No," replied Clarence, "I have not come back just for a dinner, but only for your advice, I am sorry to say I am rather in a fix."

"Some dilemma, I suppose, arising from the effervescence of youth," said the curate, who was well acquainted with the foibles of Capel.

"No, sir, not altogether so; the facts are shortly these; if you will attend to me patiently for a few moments, I will tell you the whole;" and Mr. Clarence Capel proceeded to acquaint his hearer with those particulars of which our readers have already been placed in possession.

"I know he has been in difficulties for some time. I have frequently seen him in close converse with old Tapewell, the lawyer."

"That may be as you say; but what can he mean by keeping me shut up here? If he really wishes me to marry, why keep me out of the way?"

"Hum!" said the curate. "He may have something in his eye for you hereabouts." "Why, there's nobody here except the Tracey girls, old Tapewell's plain daughter, and a few others, that I would not waste any time in courting," replied Mr. Capel.

"Yes, but there is, though," replied the

curate.

"Who?"

"I wont tell you just now; but I would strongly recommend you to follow his advice-indeed, I see nothing else you can do. Remain at the Park, come over and have a quiet dinner with me sometimes, we'll see how the wind blows; my Lord will develope his plan, whatever it may be, in good time-but, by the way, do you know that Charles Maitland has come back?"

"Has he indeed! When did he arrive?" "Only the night before last."

"I'll ride round by the manor and see him; it's an age since I've been there."

"Hum! do so by all means," said the curate, with a knowing shake of the head, "do, and make my compliments to the ladies. Now I must finish my sermon."

northern bank, beyond which a high artificial mound marked the Prætorium. Here swarthy men kept watch and ward, within fosse and embankment, casting their eyes from time to time towards distant stations, which just appeared in the horizon. Such was the Præsidium, or garrison town, which was held to be a valuable point of observation, being situated nearly in the middle of the province.

And now change the scene. See the fair-haired Saxons keep their herds on the plains, or beneath the spreading oaks; a fair tower has risen on the rock overhanging the river, which protects and commands a town adjoining the name changed in sound, though not in signification--War (or Waryn) Wik, meaning a garrison or war station among the Saxons. Here dwelt the Lady Ethelfleda, daughter of the great King Alfred; and we may imagine her sitting with her handmaidens, in long gown and kirtle, her silken veil bound on her head, the light tresses escaping from beneath the folds; perhaps embroidering the hangings which were to decorate the hall, they might have been like those described by Ingulphus, with golden birds in needlework, or, soaring to higher delineations, they might bear a representation of the destruction of Troy. Or, we may fancy we see her looking from her lattice on the town, which was much bound to her, for she had repaired it when decayed.

And after the lapse of a century was Turchil de Warwyk possessor of the domain; his ensign, the Bear and Ragged Staff, embroidered on the banner that waves over the tower-that ensign which he adopted from his celebrated ancestor Guy, and which continued the badge belonging to the title, as it passed through the families of Newburgh, Beauchamp, Nevil, Plantagenet, and Dudley.

The conquering Norman fortified the town, and ordained that twelve burgesses "should accompany the kinge in his warres. He that upon warning given obeyed not, paid a hundred shillings to the kinge; but, if the kinge made a voyage by sea against his enemies, they sent either foure boteswans, or foure pounds of deniers." (It is not explained of what use the boteswans were, who had probably never seen the sea.) By royal order, the castle was enlarged and strengthened, Turchil removed, and Henry

de Newburgh, established in his place, held the fief of the king. When Henry the First made, at Woodstock, the first park yet seen in England, Henry de Newburgh imitated his royal master in forming one near his castle; deer and animals for the chase replaced the peaceful flocks and herds, and the graceful antler was reflected in the Avon's stream. Nor was this earl devoted alone to his own pleasure he founded in the town a priory; and his son, following the example, established a hospital for the Templars, and the beautiful Collegiate Church of Our Lady. Twice the property descended to heiresses; and in the reign of Henry the Third it was possessed by William Mauduit, who died childless. We may, in imagination, view the castle under another aspect-the walls in many parts demolished, the result of the wars between Henry the Third and his Barons; Gifford, governor of Kenilworth, being on the victorious side of the Barons, and Mauduit a faithful adherent of this King. In his chamber lay the dying warrior, a prey to sorrow and disappointment. His sister Isabel (married to William Beauchamp) was summoned to attend him in his last hours. To her he left the whole of his estates; but she had outlived the desire of worldly possessions, and, with her husband's concurrence, she transferred the fair domain of Warwick to her son. With this singular act of disinterestedness, the family of Beauchamp entered on their tenure. This William de Beauchamp was brave and loyal; his son Guy was present at the deathbed of Edward the First, and received that monarch's last request, that he would be faithful to his son, and not allow Piers Gaveston to return to England. The career of that favourite is well known.

Let us pass over five years, and return to. Warwick Castle on a fine evening in the month of May; the budding verdure of the trees partly concealing the ruined wall, which had not been repaired; the sinking sun gleaming with crimson rays on the armour of a body of men with whom the court is filled; the horses of the commanders led by the 'squires; while the lords assemble for council in the great hall. There were the noble Lancaster, Hereford, Warwick, and others. After brief debate, an order was given for the prisoner to appear; and the royal favourite, Gaveston,—

who had so proudly borne himself in prosperity, who had given nicknames to the sternest of England's warriors,-approached, trembling and crest-fallen. He pleaded for his life; and urged that he had yielded to the Earl of Pembroke under assurance of safe conduct to the King. His words were not unheeded, and a proposal was made to shed no blood; but a fatal voice resounded through the hall at the critical moment, saying, "You have caught the fox; if you let him go, you must hunt him again. The cruel hint was sufficient; the stern resolution fixed; the unhappy Gaveston was hurried to a hill about two miles distant from the castle, and ere the sun's last rays gilded the towers of the fortress, his head was severed from his body.

The King never forgave the offence; and for a short space the splendour of the Beauchamps suffered an eclipse. The Earl ended his days, after a lapse of four years, at his Castle of Warwick, as was supposed, by poison. Seven little children bewailed their father's untimely end. The sons were committed to the charge of another royal favourite, Hugh le Despenser; and on his fall, the guardianship of the youths and the castle were usurped by the minion of the Queen, Roger Mortimer. From this resulted one of those 'romances in real life which prove that "le vrai n'est pas toujours le vraisemblable." For a year or two after Edward the Third's accession, he was obliged to temporise; but as soon as he could venture to assume the power, the unworthy favourite was disgraced. Before this time he had placed the young Earl of Warwick and his brother, as pages, about the King's person; and we may suppose they attended at the rejoicings on the marriage of the young King with Philippa of Hainault, at which, we are informed, were held "tournaments, jousts, dances, carols, and great and beautiful repasts." We may fancy, too, that it was among the excitements of this time that the fair Catherine, daughter to Mortimer, captivated his ward. No romance could feign a happier close to twelve years of trial and suffering, the ignominious end of her father, and the fall of her house, than to be brought a bride to the noble Castle of Warwick, by a husband whose love had stood the test of years. Nor did her happiness end quickly; she lived to see the ruined walls rebuilt, her

husband return in safety from Cressy's fight, where he had led the van under the command of the Black Prince (where his brother bore the royal standard), and to behold him enrolled among the founders of England's most noble order of knighthood. He died, at Calais, of pestilence; and his body reposes beneath a magnificent tomb in the Church of Our Lady, Warwick. The remarkable tower at the north-east end of the castle was built by his son, and called Guy's Tower, in memory of the Saxon Earl Guy, for whom he had a special veneration. It may be remarked, as a token of the change in the value of money, that this edifice cost only in building £395 5s. 2d. This Earl was exiled to the Isle of Man by Richard the Second, and his towers inhabited by a stranger; but on the accession of Henry the Fourth he was recalled, and reinstated in his possessions.

The exploits of Richard de Beauchamp, his son, are well known, though less connected with Warwick than with the courts of England and France, during his life. His remains were brought from Rouen, where he died, to the home of his fathers, and his tomb is to be seen in the Beauchamp chapel, attached to the church of St. Mary, in Warwick.

And now the star of Beauchamp set, and that of Nevil, which gleamed with a bright, but meteor light, rose upon the towers of Warwick. Henry Beauchamp, son to the last-named lord, died at the age of twenty-two; his daughter lived only till she was six, and the inheritance descended to his sister Anne. She was wife to him who earned the opprobrious title of Kingmaker. He could seldom, during his turbulent career, have found a home in his fair castle. After his death, at the battleof Barnet, the Countess, rightful possessor of the inheritance, was obliged to retire privately to the north; for at that time festivity and hospitality reigned in Warwick Castle, under the occupancy of George, Duke of Clarence, who had married the elder daughter, but gloom overspread the castle on his death in the Tower. old Countess was recalled to possession by Henry VII., but only as it were in mockery; she came to her halls a stranger, and remained but long enough to make them over to the king. Her son and daughter were both beheaded; the latter was the old

The

Countess of Salisbury, whose execution at the age of seventy, by the order of Henry VIII., is well known. With them ended the glories of Nevil and Plantagenet, Earls of Warwick.

For more than forty years, no earl raised his banner over the towers of Warwick; and when a new one adopted the ensign, the Bear and Ragged Staff, we might almost imagine the spirits of the true and loyal Beauchamps disturbed in their restingplaces, at the sight of a Dudley, son to an informer, and himself a "bold, bad man,' ruling over the edifice which they had erected. The possession of the castle by this family was but short. After the death of John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, as a traitor to Queen Mary, his son Ambrose was restored, and enjoyed the favour of Queen Elizabeth. In the Beauchamp Chapel, so often mentioned as the last home of the earls, is a small monument on the north side of the altar. The figure of a child lies on it, and the inscription tells us that it is erected to the "most noble Impe," son of the celebrated Earl of Leicester, and nephew to Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick, heir to dukedoms, earldoms, and other titles, to the number of sixteen; but he was taken from the burden of so many honours, and the Castle of Warwick reverted to the crown.

Fulke Greville, to whom the Castle of Warwick was granted by James I., was collaterally descended from Richard Beauchamp, celebrated in the reigns of Henry V. and VI; but, before we speak of him and his great worthiness, we must be pardoned for inserting, for the reader's amusement, a romantic incident which decided the fortunes of his grandfather.

This gentleman was the younger of two Sons of Sir Edward Greville, of Wilcote. While he and his brother were still youths, the guardianship of Elizabeth Willoughby was given to their father. This young lady was granddaughter to the last Lord Brooke, who had left no male descendants, and heiress, also, to her grandmother, Lady Beauchamp, of Powyke. Her two younger sisters had been taken from her by death, and we may well imagine that the kindly feelings of the two brothers would be called forth at the sight of the young mourner. No history, that we have seen, speaks of her personal attractions, and perhaps it

is too much to imagine that they were eminent, for she was one of the richest heiresses in the kingdom; yet we feel assured that our readers will allow that if this were wanting, the qualities of her heart and mind made amends. In course of time John Greville, the elder son, declared himself her suitor, but could gain no favour. Fulke, the second son, had been sent by his father to advance his fortune in the wars abroad.

Sir Edward watched with anxiety the progress of his son's courtship, and finding the lady still averse, resolved to interpose the authority of a guardian. Solicitations and authority were alike vain; and when urged more closely, she acknowledged that she "did like better of Fulke the second son." The manuscript which relates the tale, continues thus quaintly :-" He (Sir Edward) told her that he had no estate of land to maintain her, and that he was in the kinge's service of warre beyond the seas, and therefore his returne was very doubtful. She replyed and said, that shee had an estate sufficient both for him and for herselfe; that shee would pray for his safetie, and wait for his coming." And she did wait, till he had distinguished himself, and won the honour of knighthood. was fully worthy of the heiress who thus proved her constancy. But we must not delay to pursue his history, or to speak of his merits.

He

Pass we again to Warwick Castle, in March, 1603. Behold the walls decayed, the chambers where princesses and great ladies had reposed, tenanted by common felons; for it was now the gaol of the county. In the hall where Gaveston had been condemned with merely the form of a trial, were assembled the judges and magistrates, holding the annual Lent Assize. The news arrived of the death of the glorious Queen Elizabeth, and ordinary business being therefore stayed, the magistrates assembled to debate what should be done. Sir Fulke Greville (son to the one lately mentioned) thus spoke

"Shall our loyalty to our mistress expire with the breath which has left her noble body, that we stand thus in doubt? Rather let us show that a portion of the wisdom which directed her counsels has descended to us; let us put in peaceable possession of the realm him to whom