thered together in an upper chamber. "We shall all be murdered; there is no one to save us."

But in this they were mistaken. Almost simultaneous with the rush of the crowd into the halls and corridors below, was the entrance of Mr. Beaver into the sort of sanctuary of which we have spoken

"Follow me, ladies," cried he. "If it be possible to save you at all, I will do it; if not, I will perish with you. Follow me!"

The frightened creatures required no second bidding. All flew towards him; but, gently declining the many fair arms which contested the honour of being passed through his, he took the Lady Evelyn's and led her in the advance.

"Is there any back stairs by which we can descend?" demanded he.

"Oh, yes-yes," cried the Lady Evelyn. "This way-this way; it will lead us at once to an outlet."

Down that narrow stair the agitated group accordingly flew; and happy, beyond my powers to describe their feelings, were they when they ascertained that the sort of postern with which that flight of steps communieated had not by the rioters been discovered. Accordingly they rushed out into the park; and, Mr. Beaver still attending them, ran to hide themselves as well as they could among the shrubberies and plantations. Meanwhile the mob carried all before them: they had gained the ground-floor at a rush. They advanced towards the grand staircase in one dense column, and bore upwards stoutly; but a volley from five double-barrelled guns checked them, and they recoiled.

"Burn the house about their cars!" shouted several voices, and the suggestion was instantly followed up. In less time than I have taken to describe the movement, the basementstory was on fire in a dozen places at once, the incendiaries shrieking with delight, as flame after flame burst out, and then dashing away in every direction to look for plunder. It was then, and not till then, that even Lord Boroughdale became convinced that further resistance would be useless.

He accordingly advised his friends to consult their own safety, while he himself ran towards the apartment in which he had directed

the ladies to assemble, determined either to conduct them to a place of safety, or to perish in the attempt. Oh! who shall describe his anguish when he beheld the chamber empty? He called both his wife and his daughter by their names,-he ran backwards and forwards from room to room, totally regardless of the volumes of smoke and fire which began already to circle round him; till at last, in the vague hope that they might have been beforehand in the flight, he too evacuated the burning mansion, and took refuge in the woods.

The excesses committed by the bands which made Coketown the theatre of their operations were sufficiently terrible; those into which the captors of Welverton ran were, if possible, more atrocious still. It was not so much plunder as the work of devastation which they seemed to have in view; for except the contents of the cellar, they appropriated nothing to their own use. Yet there was one at least of the number who, content with cheering his comrades on, seemed carefully to withhold his own hand from any the most trifling act of violence. This was old Rankin; who, having raised the cry of fire, drew back, as if to watch the results of that terrible experiment; but in reality that he might keep guard, lest the object of his mortal hatred should by chance escape the fate which in his own mind he had allotted to him. It does not appear whether the old man was familiar with the topography of Welverton Manor, or whether chance directed him to take up a position exactly in front of the sort of postern-door which communicated with the back-staircase of which we have spoken; yet so it was. There, for the space of a full half-hour he stood, gazing with eager eyes upon the neglected wing of the mansion, nor, as it seemed, taking the smallest interest in what might be passing elsewhere. He saw the women come forth; he observed that Beaver was their guide, and he made no movement to interrupt them. He beheld Sir George Villiers and several others also rush out by the same aperture, yet he stirred not from his place of ambush. But by and by, when Lord Welverton presented himself, further hesitation seemed to leave him. He sprang upon his victim with

a savage yell; and ere the young man could so much as consider how the attack was to be resisted, wrenched from him his gun, and threw it far aside into the shrubbery. Then followed a blow and a swing by the collar, which laid his lordship flat upon the grass; then a grasp by the waistband of his trousers, and forthwith a rapid movement; during the continuance of which the giant bore his load away from the general hubbub with as much case as the lion carries his prey from the haunts of men. At last, however, they stopped, and once more Lord Welverton was dashed rudely to the ground.

"What is it that you intend to do with me?" demanded his lordship. "My life cannot be of any use to you. Spare that, and I will pay you any amount of ransom for it." "It is your life that I want, villain!" replied Rankin. “Ay, and I mean to take it too; as the laws, if they were rightly administered, would take it for me. You shall hang upon that tree till you are dead so if you desire to say a prayer for your soul, say it quickly and have done!"

"Why should you murder me ?" exclaimed Lord Welverton, bitterly. "What harm have I done to you?"

"What harm, thou cold-blooded miscreant? What harm ?" shrieked the old man. "Have you forgotten that such a being once existed as Jane Rankin, or did you dream that her father was indifferent to her wrongs?"

"Mr. Rankin, I beseech you-I implore you, to have mercy! I will make any kind of reparation that you may require. I will give you money enough to render you and yours independent,-I will bring up the child as my own,-I will

"Die, brute,-die! for nothing else will satisfy me!" said the old man, in a tone of inexpressible hatred. Nor was his an idle threat. It was in vain that Lord Welverton struggled with all the violence which he is wont to exercise who knows that life is in the balance. In the hands of that herculean man he was helpless as an infant; and hence, in spite of his screams, which sounded fearfully even amid the other terrific noises which broke the silence of that night, his hands were tied behind him, and himself left powerless to

resist his destiny even for a moment. Then calmly and slowly from his coat pocket old Rankin drew a cord. There was a noose at one end of it, which, after stripping the young man of his stock, he passed round his neck; while the other he cast, by a skilful jerk, over a strong bough of the tree beneath which they had settled themselves. "Now look your last at the stars of heaven!" said the infuriated executioner, while his victim shrieked wildly for mercy. But the tragedy went no further. There was the noise of horses' hoofs upon the turf, there was a voice which called aloud to surrender,-there was the firing of a pistol or a carbine in the night air, and the body of old Rankin rolled upon the grass!

"Who are you, and why are you thus?" demanded a voice, which Lord Welverton immediately recognised as that of Frederick Blackston.

"Who, I am," replied his lordship, making a not unsuccessful effort to recover the tone of indifference which was habitual to him, " you, Mr. Blackston, need scarcely be told. Why you find me with a noose round my neck is just as much of a mystery to me as to you. Will you, however, have the goodness to cut the thong which binds my wrists, for it is inconveniently tight?"

It is never worth while to dwell upon minute details when a summary of events as they happened will serve the historian's purpose. Our readers, therefore, will have learned enough when we inform them that the rescue, thus critically afforded, was the result of Frederick Blackston's judicious exertions; that he had ridden for several hours from place to place, and gathered together about fifty of the yeomanry cavalry; that with these he was on his march to Coketown, when the sudden outburst of the conflagration at Welverton Manor caused him to change his route; and that, though coming up too late to save the mansion, he contrived nevertheless to preserve the life of him who was its heir. Then again as to the remaining accidents of that strange drama, a few words will be sufficient to set them forth. The mob-stupified in many instances with liquor, and totally destitute of order could offer no resistance to the yeomanry. They

were charged, sabred, and dispersed; after which the fugitives, both male and female, were gathered together and conveyed under a sufficient escort to Altamont Castle. But Frederick went not with them. Putting him

self at the head of about forty of the yeomen, he pushed on to Coketown, where such occurrences had already taken place as cannot rightly be placed upon record at the very fagend of a chapter.

Frederick Blackston had found that the business of assembling a troop of yeomanry together was no sinecure. Not that there existed on the parts of the men the slightest disinclination to obey his summons. Honour be to the class from which the yeomanry force of England is taken! There is none more brave, there is none more devoted to their country,-there is none more willing, at least for a spurt, to encounter any conceivable amount of hazard and of hardship; but it is one thing to call out a regiment of cavalry by sound of trumpet, or of infantry by beat of drum, and quite another to summon Eby word of mouth, yeoman after yeoman, throughout a circuit of a quarter of a county, and send him to his rallying place. Frederick Blackston, however, knowing the district well, and being by the tenantry as much respected as he was known, galloped round the outskirts of his father's troop in a space of time which was marvellous; and therefore found himself within the compass of perhaps four hours from the arrival of the alarm, at the head, as we have stated, of fifty stout and well-mounted yeomen. The rallying point for the troop being the lawn in front of Altamont, Frederick mustered them there in due form; and being a soldier by profession, he did not omit to serve out to each trooper his thirty rounds of ammunition. Then being tacitly accepted in the room of his father, he put himself at their head, and away they went at a long trot towards Coketown.

Of the circumstances which induced the leader of that gallant band to change his line of march and open the campaign at Welverton, sufficient notice was taken in the previous chapter. We need not therefore recur to it, further than to state that Frederick and the Lady Evelyn found an opportunity-Lord knows howof expressing each to the other the

sense of their common gratitude that both were safe; and that Mr. Beaver, having acted as protector to the ladies till a detachment of the cavalry relieved him, took leave of his fair protégées in a manner singularly dramatic. Let us now, therefore, follow at once the course of the adventurous cavaliers who, scarce more than forty in number, pushed forward, after detaching ten men to protect the ladies, with the design of saving at least a remnant of Coketown from destruction, or of perishing in the attempt. Forward they rode, as those are apt to do who, staking their lives on a great adventure, find time to calculate the cost, and ascertain that it is serious. Neither was the sense of awe-for it would wrong them to speak of it as alarm-in any degree diminished as their nearer approach to the scene of the Reformers' operations made more and more conspicuous to them the results in which all such operations are sure to terminate. The whole town of Coketown appeared to be in a blaze. And round the fire, and even within it, the forms of men seemed to be flitting in attitudes such as might have furnished an admirable subject to Rubens, when his imagination, always too vehement for reason and for judgment, happened to be in its height. But if the effect was striking while yet one sensethat of sight only opened up an avenue to the understanding, much more startling was the influence excited so soon as hearing, in like manner, came into play. As they approached the town, the noises which fell upon their ears were terrific. I know of no sound in nature more awful than that of a furious conflagration. The hissing of the flames; the crackling of the embers; the fall, from time to time, of masses of masonry, occasioning by its collision with the flames a deadening sound, which may be conceived by

such as have heard it, but which defies all act of description, these things alone are enough to make the hair of him who listens to them stand on end. But if to these you add the hubbub of a thousand human voices, --tremendous under every circumstance, but more especially if they be raised in anger, or indicate the progress of passions violent as the fire itself, then, indeed, the effect is truly appalling. Now all these sights and sounds greeted the forty yeomen, as they approached a town in which the horrors of a sack appeared to be enacted; and if the bravest heart among them beat quicker and more uneasily for the moment, let not the steadiest veteran in England's noble army find fault with it for having done so. It is no light thing in him who for the first time faces danger on an extensive scale, to face it becomingly. We have been told that it requires at least two campaigns to make a cool and steady soldier. Let no man, therefore, think meanly of these yeomen, even if it should appear that their pulses throbbed with more than usual vehemence as they approached the town.

We are not going to copy from the public prints of the day, by describing how the cavalry rode up the main street, and how paralysed the mob became when they saw form up on one side of the market-place what they verily believed to be at least a brigade of regular soldiers. The Riotact was read, of course—it was full time to read it; and then, having strict orders to use as far as possible the flats of their swords, the yeomanry charged. Never was rout more complete. Hundreds--we may say thousands-of the hardiest and bravest of England's sons fled like sheep before the attack of forty,-so incalculable are the advantages of discipline and a good cause over mere physical strength, and the mere accumulation of numbers.

With the exception of the Courthouse, the Welverton Arms, and one or two private houses on either side of the latter, Coketown was saved by the well-timed charge of Frederick Blackston and his yeomanry; for his That is Caply made the

at least jealousy to the Liberals of his own borough; and he was glad to escape, in common with the mayor and corporation, from the many missiles which were directed against them. But that which the Whig member failed to effect, the soldier, who cared for no distinctions in politics, accomplished. Long before dawn the rioters were driven from the place, with a loss to the yeomen of only two men wounded-to the incendiaries of somewhere about eight killed, and twenty or thirty more or less seriously injured.

Time passed, working, as he wended on his way, results even more extraordinary than those to which his progress usually gives birth. The noble house of Boroughdale, having sheltered its several members under the roof of Altamont Castle, removed, at the conclusion of something less than a week, to London. They could not, indeed, return to Welverton Manor, for that was a heap of ruins ; and the associations connected with the neighbourhood were, by this time, scarcely such as to seduce the noble earl into the extravagance of hiring some other man's house in the vicinity. Indeed, his lordship made no secret of his determination to see the Reform struggle to an end, and, in the event of the question being earried, to find a home for himself in some other country, where the ty ranny of the many existed not. But the Lord Boroughdale had often threatened before. One of his last declarations in the House of Lords, after the passing of the Popish Relief Bill, amounted to this, that he would never sit or vote there again till the bishops were expelled. Yet he sat and voted, yea, and rose and spoke too, with excellent effect, on many and most contradictory occasions. Few persons, therefore, gave the smallest heed to his asseverations, however vehement they might be, touching his disgust with political warfare. And hence, when he did remove to the metropolis, both the Blackstons and the public of at large confidently believed that he would get Welverton restored with as little delay as possible, and come back to resume his natural place in

-€ which his aricestors

How was it with Frederick and the Lady Evelyn during that week which, by the force of circumstances, threw them at least under the same roof, if not constantly together? Oh! why should I touch upon a topic so sacred? Have any, who cast their eyes over these pages, ever loved, and loved in sincerity and truth? Have they known what it is to live only in the presence of one cherished object; yet there, within the influence of that holy atmosphere around them, to be lifted for ever above earth and all that pertains to it? Have self, and the feelings which depend upon it, died out, and all their happiness been found in promoting the happiness of another? Yet, desiring this, have they found themselves drawn, as if by some magic spell, for ever and for ever, to seek one, and only one companionship? If it be so, then need we spare ourselves the trouble of explaining that at all hours, and in all places, Frederick and Evelyn met; that their greetings were the sweetest that ever befell since our first father bade his helpmate welcome in Eden's exquisite bowers; and their partings not sad, only because there was the prospect of what another day or another hour would bring forth; that a moment would suffice to communicate and to receive more than whole years of ordinary intercourse produce; and that past sorrows and future cares were alike forgotten in the intense, and let us add the blessed, enjoyment of the present. Oh, happy, happy time! when continually the exclamation is on our lips, that God himself can give none more perfect than the happiness which the passing moment affords. Oh, season of joy! and, surely, of disinterestedness also, when all our thoughts find their origin and their end, not in ourselves, but in another. If ye were but permitted to endure, where would be man's difficulties or trials? If ye were not taken away, where man's scope for the exercise of patience, and resignation, and faith? Alas, poor children! the cup was very sweet, and they drank it to the dregs. Yet I blame them not for having done so; neither do they cheat me of my compassion. They were innocent as the light of day that shone round them. They were happy while the brief season of unrestricted interVOL. XXIV. NO. CXLIII.

course continued-happier far than minds constituted differently from theirs have the power even to conceive. Yet they were laying up for themselves a store of bitterness against the future; and the future, when it became the present, failed not to repay them. But why linger over reflections such as these? They have no tint of novelty in them. The tale has been told a thousand times, in a thousand generations; and will not cease to burden the annals of our race till the last of these generations shall have passed

away.

"The course of true love never did run smooth;"

and so, when the moment of separation came, Frederick and the Lady Evelyn found it.

Was Mr. John Beaver-the preserver, as he modestly insinuated, of the ladies' honour and the gentlemen's lives-neglected all this while, and forgotten? Nothing of the sort. To Mr. Blackston's inexpressible astonishment, he saw the demagogue and editor admitted to a degree of intimacy within the circle of Welverton Manor such as never had been afforded to himself even in the early days of Lord Boroughdale's reforming propensities. Mr. Beaver not only obtained an audience of his lordship whenever he thought fit to call, but was by the ladies welcomed like an old friend, and dismissed again apparently with regret. And once or twice, when the member ventured to throw out a hint that of all the mischief which had occurred Mr. Beaver was the origin, both the noble lord and the several members of his family scouted the insinuation. No, no, Mr. Blackston; you must look elsewhere than to such as he for the root of the evil which we both deplore. Mr. Beaver, as any other clever man in his situation might be expected to do, has only taken advantage of the circumstances of the times to raise himself into importance. His conduct during the late riots shews that he meant no harm to others, whatever advantages he might desire to secure for himself. But will you say as much of his majesty's ministers, or of the party-I mean the political party properly so called— which supports them? When noble

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