despair! What speak I of? For wicked as but little for his own fireside. "O speak, this world is-ay, desperately wicked-there speak," said Agnes, "yet why need you is not, on all the surface of the wide earth, a speak? All this has been but a vain belief, hand that would murder our child! Is it not and Lucy is in heaven."-"Something like a plain as the sun in heaven that Lucy has been trace of her has been discovered-a woman stolen by some wretched gipsy-beggar, and with a child that did not look like a child of that, before that sun has set, she will be saying hers was last night at Clovenford-and left it her prayers in her father's house, with all of by the daw'ing-"Do you hear that, my beus upon our knees beside her, or with our faces loved Agnes?" said Isobel, "she'll have tramped prostrate upon the floor?" away with Lucy up into Ettrick or Yarrow, but hundreds of eyes will have been upon her, for these are quiet but not solitary glens, and the hunt will be over long before she has crossed down upon Hawick. I knew that country in my young days. What say ye, Mr. Mayne? there's the light o' hope on your face." "There's nae reason to doubt, ma'am, that it was Lucy. Everybody is sure o't. If it was my ain Rachel, I should ha'e nae fear o' seeing her this blessed nicht.' Agnes opened her eyes and beheld Lucy's bonnet and plaid lying close beside her, and then a silent crowd. Her senses all at once returned to her, and she rose up-"Ay, sure enough drowned-drowned- -drowned-but where have you laid her? Let me see our Lucy, Michael, for in my sleep I have already seen her laid out for burial. The crowd quietly dispersed, and horse and foot began to scour the country. Some took the high-roads, others all the by-paths, and many the trackless hills. Now that they were in some measure relieved from the horrible belief that the child was dead, the worst other calamity seemed nothing, for hope brought her back to their arms. Agnes had been able to walk to Bracken-Braes, and Michael and Isobel sat by her bed-side. Lucy's empty little crib was just as the child had left it in the morning before, neatly made up with her own hands, and her small red Bible was lying on her pillow. Jacob Mayne now took a chair, and sat down, with even a smile upon his countenance. "I may tell you, noo, that Watty Oliver kens it was your bairn, for he saw her limping after the limmer at Galla-Brigg, but ha'eing nae suspicion, he did na tak' a second leuk o' her -but ae leuk is sufficient, and he swears it was bonny Lucy Forrester.' Aunt Isobel by this time had bread and cheese, and a bottle of her own elder-flower wine, on the table. "You have had a long and hard journey, wherever you have been, Mr. Mayne-tak' some refreshment,"-and Michael asked a blessing. Jacob saw that he might now venture to reveal the whole truth. "No-no-Mrs. Irvine, I'm ower happy to eat or to drink. - You are a' prepared for the blessing that awaits youyour bairn is no far aff-and I myself-for it was I mysel' that faund her, will bring her by the han' and restore her to her parents." Agnes had raised herself up in her bed at these "Oh! my husband-this is being indeed kind to your Agnes, for much it must have cost you to stay here; but had you left me, my silly heart must have ceased to beat altogether, for it will not lie still even now that I am well nigh resigned to the will of God." Michael put his hand on his wife's bosom, and felt her heart beating as if it were a knell. Then ever and anon the tears came gushing, for all her strength was gone, and she lay at the mercy of the rustle of a leaf or a shadow across the win-words, but she sunk gently back on her pillow. dow. And thus hour after hour passed on till it was again twilight. "I hear footsteps coming up the brae," said Agnes, who had for some time appeared to be slumbering; and in a few moments the voice of Jacob Mayne was heard at the outer door. It was no time for ceremony, and he advanced into the room where the family had been during all that trying and endless day. Jacob wore a solemn expression of countenance, and he seemed, from his looks, to bring them no comfort. Michael stood up between him and his wife, and looked into his heart. Something there seemed to be in his face that was not miserable. If he has heard nothing of my child, thought Michael, this man must care Aunt Isobel was rooted to her chair, and Michael, as he rose up, felt as if the ground were sinking under his feet. There was a dead silence all around the house for a short space, and then the sound of many joyful yoices, which again by degrees subsided. The eyes of all then looked, and yet feared to look towards the door. Jacob Mayne was not so good as his word, for he did not bring Lucy by the hand to restore her to her parents; but, dressed again in her own bonnet, and her gown, and her own plaid, in rushed their child, by herself, with tears and sobs of joy, and her father laid her within her mother's bosom. PROFESSOR WILSON. 160 "HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS." HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD [Robert Browning, born in Camberwell, London, 1812. His first important publication was Paracelsus, 1836. In the following year his tragedy of Strafford was performed at Drury Lane, and the Blot in the 'Scutcheon about six years later; King Victor and King Charles and Colombe's Birth-day were subsequently produced at the Haymarket Theatre; but none of them obtained much favour from general play-goers. Since the ap pearance of Paracelsus he has produced many poems of high value, and which-in spite of the quaint and often obscure, although always suggestive, mode of expression Mr. Browning has, it must be presumed deliber ately, adopted-have won for him a large measure of popularity. The Edinburgh Review says Mr. Browning is a man of rare accomplishments, with a singularly original mind capable of sympathizing with a multiplicity of tastes and characters very far removed from every day experience." Another critic, in the Examiner, says: "He is equally a master of thought and emotion, and joins to a rare power of imaginative creation that which is still more rarely found in union with it-the subtlest power of mental reasoning and analysis. Sordello; Bells and Pomegranates; Christmas Eve; Men and Women; the Ring and the Book; and Prince HohenstielSchwangau may be given as the titles of his principal works. Balaustion's Adventure, one of his latest, is also one of his most powerful productions, because it is one of his clearest. A collected edition of his poems appeared in 1868 in six volumes; and a very admirable selection from his works has been issued under the care of J. Foster and B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall).] I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate bolts undrew; "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a word to each other; we kept the great At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; At Duffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime, So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time." At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, And against him the cattle stood black every one, To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past, And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, With resolute shoulders, each butting away The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray: And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; And one eye's black intelligence, -ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, We'll remember at Aix "--for one heard the quick wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. So we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!" "How they'll greet us!"-and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, “Och hone agra, Denis, mavourneen, is it kilt ye are? Spake to the poor ould mother that bore ye. Och, may the curse of the widy and the childless light on the villain that fetcht ye that wipe athwart yer brow; and if I catch the murtherin' thafe, I'll set my tin commands on 'im, by tare and ounty I will. Alas! alas! yer gon from me intirely now! Ye'll never more grasp the tiller, or rin out another reef in this world; but it's ye that shan't want a mass t' help ye in the next, tho' I should never whiff another caubeen for it: yer sowl to glory, amin. Dry your peepers, Rose, ma-colleen. Weepin' 'll do 'im no good, that lies there dead and gon." "Oh, Nancy! I can't help it when I see him stretched so, and when I think that he'll never more smile on his poor Rose, never again; but hasn't Ned gone for the doctor?" "True for ye, a cushla ma chree; he maybe's there by this, tho' I'm mightily 'fraid his lifelines are cut away, and he must be stowed under the boord like his father afore 'im. Och wirra sthrew my poor boy! Och the blessings on yer face, docther, avourneen, it's me that ain't glad to see ye may hap," said the old woman to the doctor as he entered the room of the hut in which they were; and while he is doing his best to bring his patient to, we'll say VOL. II. a few words to our readers in explanation of the above. coast. The small town or fishing village of F, on the south-east coast of England, was, at the time of our story, one of the chief and most noted haunts of the smugglers of that wild The whole of the population, from their infancy up, were taught, both by precept and example, to consider the free trade as the chief and most glorious end of their lives. The house of each person was, in some manner, adapted for escape or concealment. Steps for the feet, and holds for the hands, were cut in several of the chimneys, and on the roofs several planks were always kept in readiness, to be placed from the ledge of one house to another, in order to facilitate escape, which was the more easily managed, as the streets were narrow, and the top story of each domicile jutted out in the old-fashioned style of the architecture of the time in which they were built. The floors likewise of the rooms could all be taken up, discovering large spaces capable of holding many a bale of silk and tobacco. Among so many hardy and reckless men there was always some one who held a kind of tacit authority over the rest, won by many a deed of skill and daring. For many years Matthew, or Big Mat Smith, as he was generally called, had been their leader. To a frame of iron he added a mind fearless and unshrinking, and fertile in every expedient necessary to insure success in their undertakings. He was now sinking into the "sere and yellow leaf," and the only prop of his declining days was his fair-haired, blue-eyed daughter Rose. Of five stalwart sons not one now remained to him: two perished in the storm, the rest fell fighting by his side. Success full often awaited on the smuggler's undertakings, and many a whisper of hoarded shot in his locker was rife in the town. 'Twas no wonder that the doctor and the apothecary thrived, for hardly a Saturday night passed without numerous broken heads; for Rose, to no small share of beauty, added the more substantial charms of Plutus; and this, combined with the almost certainty that whoever was the favoured one would in all probability succeed to the skippership of the place, caused such a flow of blood to the fingers of the free-traders, that when not busy in breaking the pates of the sharks, they were fully employed in toasting the pretty Rose, and giving each other striking proofs of their admiration of the "pride of F." After much drinking, dancing, and fighting, Denis M'Carthy at last opened a pretty clear road for 36 himself by beating all his opponents, and lighting a little bit of a spark in Rose's breast, which he was not the boy to let go out for want of fanning; and old Mat himself saw with pleasure his child fixing on Denis for her future pilot through life-for the young Irishman had always borne himself spiritedly and well, both afloat and ashore, and had once even saved the old man's life by flinging himself before him, and receiving the stroke of a man-of-war's cutlass intended for Mat. Denis, being young and of a hardy constitution, soon recovered, and became prime favourite with his Rose's father. "Tis mighty odd intirely," said his mother to him one night as they sat croonin' over their bright fire and clean-wiped hearth, "what confidence that same thafe, love, puts into the most fearful little colleen of us all. Faix, not more nor a month agon', there was that same Rose couldn't lift up her peepers from the grund and ax a crathur, 'How d'ye do?' but now she'll go hangin' on yer oxter the whole day, an' look into your face too as bold as brass. The blessin's on her! Och, but ye're the boy for 'em, Deny alanna! Luff up to that port, ma bouchal, for it's it that's a warm un. Nancy and her husband had left Ireland soon after they were married, and after being tossed here and there, at last came to anchor for good at F. M'Carthy soon joined the smugglers, and plied his vocation with the greatest assiduity, having, as he himself said, "not the laste bit of objection in the world at all at all agen it." Working away thus, he managed to get on pretty well for about three years, when, one fine moonlight night, as he was pacing the deck of the Speed, which was going at a glorious rate before the wind, with the spray dashing like falling snow over her bows, he was most unluckily met by a leaden messenger from a cruiser, which ran across their bows, and which just gave him time to exclaim, "D-d unjintlemanly behaver this, by the big piper of Leinst" when death stepped in, and cut his soliloquy short. Nancy was now left "a poor lone widy on the wide world, wid a poor faderless bit of a gossoon to provide for:" and nobly she did her duty towards her orphan boy. Many a cruise did Nancy take "wid the boys," and many a run did she lend a by no means useless hand in, till at last “ould Nancy was well to do, plase God, and thrivin'." Such was the state of affairs on the morning of the day on which our "veritable historie" com mences. The pier, the harbour, the town, and all the manifold objects therein, had just begun to | emerge from the dim obscurity of night, and to stand broad out in the rays of the rising moon, which, kissing the crests of the dancing waves, glanced on and illumined with one blaze of purple light the "eternal cliffs," and gradually faded away into the distant sea, showing, in one coup d'œil, the grand superiority of nature over the works of the sojourners of earth. From every house, street, and alley the people now began to issue, hurrying fast to the pier. Mat Smith's beautiful new schooner, the Rose, was that morning to make her first trip. All was ready on board for sailing, and nought delayed her but the absence of Denis and the skipper. On all sides cries of approbation and delight arose. "What a tight little hooker! What a clean run along the bends; and then her yards and spars so all a tauto! If she don't take the conceit out o' the sharks, why, I'm blowed, that's all. Here they come here they come! Good luck attend you, Mat, 'tis you that's the glory of us! Ah, Denis! I give you joy; here's success to you, my lad." Many more uproarious congratulations of the same sort followed the Rose, even till she was far out of the harbour. Night came on, and found her about eleven knots to the southward of F. The opposite coast had been made, and the run as yet had been quite successful Mass after mass of fleecy clouds flitted across the moon, their edges rendered luminous as they came within the influence of her rays. The wind was fast lulling; and the gentle undulating motion of the water scarce rippled against the sides of the schooner as she lay in the bight of a small bay about three hundred yards from the shore, casting her huge shadow to the foot of the hoary cliffs themselves. The stillness of the scene added greatly to its beauty. On her starboard side stretched the sea in its broad expanse to the gay shores of France. One sheet of radiance tapering from the extreme verge of the horizon, and gradually extending itself into one broad mellow light, fell across it, till it was stopped by the schooner, looking as she lay, her sides all silvered with the glowing beams, "the forest queen of the deep." On the larboard rose a high range of cliffs, which girt in almost the whole of the coast. Here and there some twinkling lights shone in the distance, marking the place where stood some lowly hamlet or more lordly tower. "I say, Denis, my hearty," began Mat, soon after the schooner took up the berth we have described, "I can't say as how I feel particularly pleasant this 'ere night, like as if somethin' had ta'en me quite aback, and almost, as it were, cut my life-lines adrift. | solute fellows, and determined to the last to Some harm 'll lay us aboard, I'm thinkin'. I wish those lubberly shore-haulers would bear in sight, and we'd this cargo safe stowed, and us alongside o' Rose snug moored by a blazer, with a prime in our mauleys-eh, boy?" "Can't say as how, Mat, but that 'ere prime wouldn't be after being mighty agraable, or I'm thunderstruck. But what is keeping them shore-goin' spalpeens? Thunder an' ouns, no one han't turned the snitch, an' peached-eh, Mat?" "Hope not, boy; but may I go to Davy this moment if that ain't the signal! All hands ahoy, and stir about, every mother's son of ye! Stop your pipe, ye snivelin' powder-monkey, or I'll stop it with a rope, and be d-d to ye! Dost want to bring the lobsters on us?" cover the retreat of their goods. In cases like this, when the free-traders were met by the bloodhounds of the law, they were accustomed to separate, and by the thousand cross-roads and hill-paths, to make the appointed place of rendezvous, which was always previously agreed upon. Thus, though a few might be taken, still the greater part escaped with the share of the run assigned to them. As the flying party disappeared one by one, in different directions, the picked or head men moved steadily onward. On reaching the mouth of the glen they were stopped by about twenty man-of-war's men, ranged in line, and commanding the passage. On, my lads, on for your own sakes!" cried Mat, putting spurs to his horse, and galloping forward, followed close by his men. On they went, and the pistols of the king's men were discharged in a volley, but fortunately, owing to the moon that instant having veiled her light behind an obliging old gentleman in the shape of a dark cloud, the shots passed harmlessly over their heads, and before the smoke could clear away, horse and men were mixed together in the mêlée. Oaths, shouts, and execrations in every shape, from the simple d-n upwards, flew fast and furious. The freetraders seldom, if they could help it, used their fire-arms, and consequently they were always at it hand to hand, tooth and nail. The kick The signal had been made from the shore that the party there were ready for the cargo, and for starting; and in a few moments they were all standing on the edge of the shore prepared for their share of the business. A number of strong roadsters stood by, ready to be off to the interior as soon as they were loaded. Most of the group were armed with some weapon or another, chiefly of a rustic kind. "Here, Neptune, here," shouted one who acted as leader of the land party; and a fine large Newfoundland dog, with a rope attached to his collar, bounded into the water, and swam straight for the schooner. A number of kegs and bales, well fastened and tarred to preventing and plunging of the horses soon bore fright the water getting in, were fastened to it, and immediately drawn ashore. The dog made two or three trips, and a great quantity of goods were thus landed. The ship's boats in the meantime were not idle, and in an incredibly short time the whole of the cargo, and Mat and Denis, were safely landed, and the schooner then stood out to sea. Six of the best-armed men mounted, and took up their position in front, as the avant-guard. Mat, Denis, and four more, formed the rear. The rest, with the cargo, were in the centre. The word was given to advance, and the party were just in motion when the look-out, who was stationed up the glen, through which they had to pass, came running in at the top of his speed, roaring out, "The sharks are on us, and the lobsters with 'em!" No time was to be lost. and dismay among the sharks. They began to waver, and Denis, that moment rising in his stirrups to make a cut, sung out with the whole force of his stentorian lungs, "Give it 'em, my jewels! give 'em the laste taste in the world of the steel shillaly! At 'em, my Roses, asth-!" he said no more, for a back-handed stroke of one of his antagonists that instant brought him to the ground. When the dawning light of sense and perception returned and resumed her wonted seat, Denis found himself in the house of Smith, with Rose holding one hand, and his mother kissing and crying over the other. "Och hubbabo! mother, what's the row? What are you afther, keenin' over me that way for, agra?" "Och, Denis, avourneen, hould yer tongue, and don't spake, for the docthur says ye'll kill yerself if ye do so. Aisy now, dear, and Rose, the darlin', 'll till ye all about it; eternal blassin's rest on her and hers, for it wasn't her maybe that watched ye all alongst!" The free-traders had been triumphant, and had beat the sharks off. Denis was carefully |