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 L I B R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 V.I
 
 STRATTON HILL, 
 
 A TALE OF 
 
 THE CIVIL WARS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF^ 
 
 ^'LETTERS FROM THE EAST," 
 
 '* TALES OF THE WEST OF ENGLAND," 
 
 &c. &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LOiNDON: 
 HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET 
 1829.
 
 LONDON: 
 HINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEYj 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street. 
 
 i,
 
 825 
 C2;26 
 
 Whatever be the reception of this work in 
 the World, into which, like the wild and ex- 
 citing paths of the Desert, it is sweet to venture, 
 though fearful the peril — let it be observed, 
 that if its pages often treat of fictitious charac- 
 ters and things, their far greater portion con- 
 tains a faithful tale. The remote and romantic 
 , province wherein lived the brave and distin- 
 -" guished men whose career is here recorded, has 
 ^ perhaps been regarded more coldly than it has 
 ^^ deserved. With respect to the less prominent 
 < characters of the storv, it may be pleaded that 
 '^ they are a portraiture of living people of this 
 i century, as well as of the one that is past : in 
 j a territory so confined and strongly attached to 
 ; ancient customs and feelings, the pride of blood 
 o'^is at times now carried to as high a pitch as
 
 IV 
 
 when the " baron in his moated hall, and the 
 squire of high degree" looked down on all the 
 rest of the land. Even the most extravagant 
 incident related here, of furious ancestral feel- 
 ings, occurred within the writer's knowledge. 
 May he be allowed to observe, that in his na- 
 tive land there is still preserved a greater origi- 
 nality and strength of character, than will be 
 found, perhaps, in any other province of Bri- 
 tain ? To his foot, its wild hills, and shores, and 
 sullen heaths, are as familiar and dear, as ever 
 were the groves of palm or sultry plains of 
 another land.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ** Allen so long had left his native shore. 
 He saw but few whom he had seen before ; 
 From the low dwellings, here and there, a light 
 Served some confused remembrance to excite." 
 
 Crabue. 
 
 The close of a dull and cheerless day in the 
 last lingering month of winter, still gave a 
 doubtful light to the sides of a savage and se- 
 cluded dell, up which a single passenger slowly 
 made his way. He had just landed from a 
 bark that was seen tossing on the waves, at a 
 short distance beneath, and which the scanty 
 crew were busily employed in mooring. His 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 tranquil and careless progress along the path- 
 less place, proved that he was no stranger there, 
 though many and weary years had passed, and 
 seas rolled far between, since his foot had been 
 familiar with its ruggedness. This was broken 
 by some small patches of cultivated ground, 
 snatched here and there from the dominion of 
 the rocks and fern-coated soil ; a few goats and 
 shaggy-looking horses, in all their native wild- 
 ness, picked up a scanty pasture between the 
 thickets of furze and the straggling beech-trees. 
 The passenger paused, as the roofs of several 
 cottages caught his eye, and a rude bridge just 
 beside, beneath which the stream fell in a cas- 
 cade, with the same white rush of waters, and 
 incessant sound that had amused the years of 
 his childhood. It was his native hamlet of 
 Combe, and he returned to it, having trodden 
 the soil of nearly half the globe, aged and grey, 
 but still hale, and unbroken in spirit. He soon 
 stood at the door of the dwelHng of his family, 
 but did not enter ; for he saw that strange faces 
 were within, and strange voices met his ear.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 3 
 
 He then turned from the rude portico with an 
 expression of deep dejection on his features, and 
 entered another dwelling near, whose hearth 
 had been as familiar to him as his own. A nu- 
 merous circle was now seated around it, and the 
 fire of furze that had just been kindled, threw 
 its blaze with a crackling noise on the faces of 
 infancy and old age, on the deep lines and fur- 
 rows of discontent and sorrow, as well as the 
 open brow and laughing glance of those who as 
 yet knew no care. 
 
 They looked with surprise on the visitor as he 
 entered, for it was an event of rare occurrence in 
 that solitary place, and the times too were trou- 
 bled and suspicious. 
 
 " What may your business be at this time 
 6' night, in the Combe .^" said the senior of the 
 party, in no very welcome tone. 
 
 " I know that voice," said the other; *' though 
 the tone is not so light and heartsome as when 
 I last heard it ; and the fierce look is Kiltor's, 
 mine ancient comrade." 
 
 *' And who may you be ?" rejoined the first, 
 B 2
 
 4 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 in great astonishment, raising his decrepid limbs 
 at the same time from the stone bench, and 
 fixing his large and menacing eye on the stran- 
 ger : " It 's never Will Andrews come back 
 from ayond the seas ; he 's deep and quiet 
 aneath them long sence, they said ; yet 'tis his 
 kindly look and hard gripe, that dead men 
 never give.'"' 
 
 " They are, indeed, old George, and not 
 much changed by time ; though fifty years that 
 I 've been away, may well sap the toughest 
 trunk. They have dealt hardly with you, how- 
 ever^ my friend ; your hand quivers like a leaf; 
 yet, it 's the same that gave me many a hard 
 fall on Stratton green .''' 
 
 " Ah !" replied the other, sinking on his seat 
 with a desponding groan ; at the same time 
 stretching out his withered hands, and moving 
 his palsied fingers in a kind of mockery ; 
 " these limbs were then strong, ay strong, and 
 for their match in the ring, who was he ? — hard 
 to find, I wot. The western men from Germoe 
 came, and the boasting lads from Boscastle,
 
 STRATTON HILL. 5 
 
 to try for the gould laced cap ; but their backs 
 were 'pon the yerth, and their eyes saw the sky 
 ere ever they touched it ;^but now ! curse 
 upon Time that wouldna spare an ould man ; 
 and yet he ha' spared ye. Will, a weaker man 
 by far." 
 
 " Do not curse Time," said his companion, in 
 a graver tone, — '' we can't resist his comin' : 
 often he passes ower the seas and the storms to 
 come to the quiet door-stone, and strike the 
 home-dwellin' man in the full hour o' his peace. 
 'Tis strange, though, that in the battle and the 
 wrack, my strength was ne'er sped, and ye are 
 cut down, George, on your own soft bank, 
 where day or night brought no trouble or strife 
 to ye." 
 
 " Cut down !'' replied the elder, in a voice of 
 fury ; " ye may well say that : broken like a 
 crazy boat, battered by the tide; or like an ould 
 shaft, when the sides are fallen in, and the 
 grass grows on the burrough ; look there !" he 
 continued, pointing with his quivering hand 
 to many a decayed trophy of his former might,
 
 6 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 in the form of caps, a silver-mounted pike, &c. 
 that were hung against the wall. 
 
 " You recollect the time, Will, 'twas in 
 Easter, forty-nine years bygone, the selver cup 
 was wrestled for, and out o' the twelve that 
 strove sore foren, five had broken limbs, and three 
 were never their own men agen. But their day 
 is ower, the whole twelve — their heads are on 
 the turf, and the yerth is upon their bones," 
 he added, with an exulting sneer, " and though 
 broken, the ould wrestler is living still to crow 
 over them. But, Nannie, take out the cup, the 
 selver cup, and we ""U ha' a crouse together for 
 all that's come and gone, in as Strang ale 
 and as olden ale as any's up in the great 
 . house." 
 
 A young and lively looking girl rose at this 
 command, and crossing the rude earthen floor, 
 took down the ancient trophy from a small re- 
 cess, and gave it into her grandfather's hand, 
 that clutched it with as eager a grasp as he 
 had wont to use to his adversaries in the ring. 
 He looked on it long and fixedly, less for the
 
 STRATTON HILL. 7 
 
 sake of the glittering metal, as that his memory 
 feasted like the failing gladiator's, on the havoc 
 his own hand had often wrought. 
 
 " It hav'n been used," he said, placing it 
 carefully on the seat beside him, " this many a 
 weary year, though I often longed to put 'en to 
 my lips, but I had'n the heart, bein' all lonely, 
 and every ould comraade passed away. But 
 we'll drain it this night to the bottom, to 
 your homecorain', for ye're the last that 's left 
 above ground." 
 
 A large stone jug was filled from a cask in 
 an inner-room, divided only by a thiri partition 
 from the one in which they were seated, and 
 was placed on the single table; that was also 
 spread by the same light-footed maiden, with a 
 coarse but substantial repast. The wearied 
 stranger fed heartily for some time, and then 
 took his seat on the stone bench within the 
 spacious chimney, opposite his host. The rich 
 tankard, oft replenished, passed from hand to 
 hand over the crackling embers. 
 
 " The good ale is sweeter to me than all the
 
 8 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 wines of warmer lands, my old friend, and past 
 days seem to come back upon me with the 
 draught : I see new faces on every side : your 
 young wife, with the dark eye and fair face, 
 where is she ? — you were married scant a few 
 months when I sailed with my noble master — 
 peace to his memory !" 
 
 '^ My wife,"'"' said he, " with the bright eye 
 and the cherry lip ! and think ye these could 
 'dure fifty year, you fool, or that love for them 
 coud 'dure half the time? She's bed-rid five 
 year agone, ould and wearyin' ; did'n ye hear 
 her groan in the other room ? Niver a day comes 
 but we wish one anither in the grave." 
 
 " Years hav'n made your heart softer, 
 George, the more the pity ; for you 're broken 
 and tremblin', and want dule and kinelinesse, 
 and to have your span o' life made cheerie. 
 I 'm homeless and lonesome too, but my limbs 
 are strong, and my heart is e'en stronger. 
 God has ever saved me from a hard heart, 
 though I ha' seen much that might ha' made 
 it so."
 
 STRATTON HILL. 9 
 
 His companion looked at him with a fixed 
 and malignant look, in which bad and impotent 
 passions were miserably expressed. 
 
 "And what sauves ye from it now, you 
 thoughtless man ? are na' ye belated and forsook, 
 an** your foot wandrin' alang the yerth, and canna 
 find rest ? Do ye loove aught now, and who 
 cares for sitch a sapless carlin, for his weal or 
 woe ? But ye 're Strang and hale, and ha' the 
 use o' your limbs, and can eat heartie, and find 
 long and deep sleep, while I'm rotten and 
 racked wi' pain." 
 
 " But ye ha' companie in the downward road, 
 old man ; those of your own kith and blood 
 are around ye. I ha' seen my noble master, 
 Sir Richard, that was dearer to me than wife 
 or child could e'er be, die by me, and thought, 
 what was sitch as me left upon the earth for 
 when he was taken. Hasna your wife, the 
 kineliest lass in the glen, grawn old along wi"* 
 yourself ? you had her beauty and comelinesse ; 
 and though her black eyes be sunken, and her 
 black hair that fell to her waist, like the Spanish 
 b5
 
 10 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 maids I ha"* seen, be now all white, you 
 should'n turn from and hate her; she is the 
 mother of your children." 
 
 " Children ! if they hadna been born, 'twould 
 ha' been more comfort to me. Michael turned 
 out idle and drinkin', and when I rated him for 
 it, he laughed in my face, and tould me some- 
 times I was good for nothing now, but might 
 turn my head to the wall. Rob, the only one 
 I liked o' them all, died of a fall in the ring. 
 Since that, my heart 's grown harder every day." 
 " But let's talk of others now, and far higher 
 than ourselves," said the guest, filling the silver 
 vessel to the brim ; " here's to the family at the 
 seat up yonder : and now tell me, as ye hope for 
 mercy, who's living and who's dead there; for well 
 I guess, changes ha' come within side the auncient 
 walls, as well as in those of the cottar. Is Sir 
 Bernard alive.? it can hardly be otherwise, for he 
 was a quiet and home-dwellin' man — not like his 
 father, who never liked to sit calm in his own 
 home." 
 
 " He's passed ten years agone, come next
 
 STRATTON HILL. 11 
 
 Martinmas," was his reply ; " and his only son, 
 Sir Bevil, has been a man long since, and a 
 brave one too." * 
 
 " He wasn' born when I went away with my 
 master, then a young man, whose son, master 
 Granville, was left at Stowe with my lady. 
 I 've heard the present lord is a true son 
 of the old line ; no flincher in the fray or far- 
 gitful of his followers, but a quick and stirring 
 spirit, that 'll ne'er let the armour o' the Nor- 
 man barons rust upon the walls." 
 
 " In truth is he !" said the host, " and a kind 
 heart to those aneath. I saw him pass before 
 the cot with his cuirass on, a few weeks agone, 
 and a goodly figure he was ; the bearin' of your 
 old master. Will, and the same bright flash of 
 his eyes — I longed to bear a pike in his troop, 
 and many a one will soon be found of the like 
 mind, I wot." 
 
 " Is the ancient place kept up still, as it used 
 to be? — These are wild times, George, and 
 younger hands than ours will mend or end 'em ; 
 'twill go hard though, but I'll yet march by
 
 12 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 Sir BevilPs side ; the Turks and the Spaniards' 
 bullets ha' spared me by his grandfather's, and 
 so help me St. Benedict ! those o' the rebels 
 were never made that '11 lay my grey head low. 
 They were ever loyal hearts, the Granvilles, 
 and will stead the King's cause better than a 
 host of armed men." 
 
 " 'Gif yere come from ower the seas to fight,*' 
 said the other, " aneist your awn quiet home 
 and awn hearth-stone, Will, ye '11 ha' enough to 
 do — Couldna ye leave your bones in the wild 
 and warm lands ayond the sea, and not bring 
 them to be strawed amidst the fern, and no 
 hand to cover them ? Fight for the King 
 too, you grey old sinner, with seventy win- 
 ters 'pon your head ! there 11 soon be none 
 in the land, for he canna hould his awn, they 
 say." 
 
 " That '11 be seen to, ere long. I'll ne'er 
 believe the rebels hardy enough to overturn the 
 lawful Prince ; there'll be bloody doings though, 
 and that ere long." 
 
 "Blood's flowed fast and thick a few days
 
 '* STRATTON HILL. 13 
 
 sence," said the host eagerly ; " they say Bra- 
 dock Down was steepen red and wet with it, 
 like the sides o' the glen with the dew o' Spring, 
 and Ruthven's men fell like sheep amidst the 
 furze thickets. One o' my wethered limbs wud 
 I ha' gi'en to 've been there, and seen the sight 
 o' that blood, and hearkened to the cries o' the 
 stricken and dyin"* — more, far more to my likin' 
 than the voice o' the bairns, or the sound of the 
 stream day an' night afore the door. Often, when 
 I lie wakin', for my bones are weary, that break 
 o' waters over the high rock hard by brings to 
 mind the hours o' my strength that 's past, and 
 the sins and hard deeds too that I did'n fear 
 to do." 
 
 " It's ill thinkin' ower a hardened life, George, 
 and far worse, when the comin' grave, that 
 waits for ye, makes the heart searer. — Don't 
 look so fiercely at me, old man, nor clench your 
 hand, as if I were come to call ye to your long 
 account. St. Benedict ! so did the Turk glare 
 at me when he tried to strike again with his 
 faint limbs, and tore his beard, in the foughten
 
 14 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 field under the Archduke. But come, drain 
 this last draught to the gallant Sir Bevil's 
 health, and pray for his welfare, if ye willna 
 pray for your own. I'll crave a home 'neath 
 your roof for the night, and to-morrow's morn 
 1*11 seek the seat of his fathers; surely he'll 
 give a welcome to the ancient retainer of his 
 family, and one who 's fought so long beneath 
 their banner. My father's roof is desolate, or 
 I shouldna have sought shelter aneath ano- 
 ther's. The auld man's head I kenned, sure, 
 must long since been aneath the turf; but I'd 
 a hope some o' my keene were still around the 
 hearth-stone. But the faces were all strange to 
 my eyes, that could ha' wept bitter tears at 
 the sight." 
 
 " Keep your tears, Will, for bitterer things ; 
 keep them till your joints grow stiff, and your 
 limbs fail, and the cold quivers come upon the 
 iron frame, and ye long, like Samson, to rise in 
 your might, but canna rise, e'en from your 
 seat, more than the faiUn' infant — when ye see 
 the strong men around you gloryin' and boastin'
 
 STRATTON HILL. 15 
 
 and feel the palsy in your feet, and the gripe o' 
 old age, that canna be loosened, while your soul 
 is still strong within. I ha' wisht, like Samson, 
 that my eyes couldna look on them, and oh ! 
 that my hands, too, could bring destruction 
 upon their heads, that scoff at an auld man's 
 boastin' of his youthful deeds ! Often do I 
 envy and hate the goat or the deer that I 
 see in the morn leapin' among the craigs and 
 ferns, and when they bound nigh me as if 
 to spite my weakness, I could tear them limb 
 from limb. But I han't the power — and they 
 ken it, too, and browse nigh me, like a gone 
 and withered thing." 
 
 " You make your own misery, wretched old 
 man," said his companion, " and each day o' 
 your Hfe will be darker and wearier. But the 
 night 's raw and chill, and the blast comes sharp 
 up the glen from the sea — it 's time ye were at 
 rest, and glad will my weary limbs be of your 
 earthern floor, for they ha' had many a harder 
 bed." 
 
 The surly host briefly acquiesced, and rising
 
 16 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 with difficulty from his seat, hobbled, with 
 many a stifled curse and growl, into the other 
 apartment, mingling words of envy at his 
 former friend's happier state, with impreca- 
 tions on his own blighted one. The other 
 tenants of the cottage had long since retired 
 to rest, and the guest sat some time alone, 
 and lost in thought over the scattered embers 
 that yet glowed on the hearth. A heavy 
 change had come over every thing since the 
 day that he quitted the spot : scarcely one of 
 the companions of his youth were now left, 
 of the many branches of his family ; some had 
 gone to other and distant scenes, had nn'ngled 
 in the civil broils of the day, or already paid 
 the debt of Nature. Time had passed his 
 withering hand on all. The survivor was of 
 too advanced an age, and had himself proved 
 too many changes of fortune, to think very 
 deeply or sorrowfully of these, bereavements. 
 He had quitted the spot at a very early age, 
 and now returned, with seventy years on his 
 head, and a full share of experience. He had
 
 STRATTON HILL. 17 
 
 accompanied the lord of the mansion hard by, 
 into foreign and distant service, when he 
 joined the army of the Imperiahsts against 
 that of the Prophet, and had afterwards fol- 
 lowed him to America, under the unfortunate 
 Raleigh, who was his kinsman. On the death 
 of his master, he might have returned to his 
 native land, and lived in peace, but he had 
 been too long accustomed to a life of excite- 
 ment and wandering, and he loved it for its 
 own sake. Being left in some degree inde- 
 pendent of the hard necessities of his career, 
 by the bounty of him he had served so faith- 
 fully, he continued long, abroad, never hiring 
 himself as a mercenary soldier in the coun- 
 tries he passed into, but choosing the service 
 that suited best his own taste. Sometimes 
 this had been in the new and sultry lands of 
 the great ocean, as they were then deem- 
 ed, fighting against those inveterate enemies, 
 whose armada he had seen threaten his own 
 shores, when serving beneath the flag of his 
 master. He had also shared with many other
 
 18 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 adventurers from his native province, in the 
 cause of its ancient ally, Portugal, when Sir 
 Francis Drake strove for the recovery of her 
 dominions, which Spain had wrested. He had 
 thus, in the course of a long career, seen va- 
 rious and severe service, as well as climes and 
 manners, all widely different from those of his 
 rude and native province; and possessing a 
 firm and fearless spirit, there were few of the 
 many far and restless adventurers of the time who 
 brought to their own home and quiet resting- 
 place, so blameless a conscience and unbroken 
 & strength A§ sALnflfefews. He had begun to 
 feel, though few of the inevitable infirmities 
 of age had yet stole upon him, a yearning 
 after his native- land. There could not now 
 be very many years between him and the foe 
 he had so often baffled in the fight and in 
 the fatal climes, and he shrunk from the idea 
 of his bones being laid beneath a foreign turf. 
 " No," thought often the old man, " they shall 
 rest, when the hour shall come, in the bosom of 
 the wild hollow, amidst the rocks and ferns that
 
 STRATTON HILL. 19 
 
 I wandered among in my childhood." He was 
 now on the spot, yet his coming had not been 
 such as hope had anticipated : he had forgotten 
 to make sufficient allowance for the stern ra- 
 vages of time ; and he now found himself, 
 homeless and friendless, in the loved place of 
 his birth. As his strong form and worn and 
 resolute countenance bent over the dying re- 
 lics of the fire, sorrow and regret were not the 
 only feelings impressed on the latter ; the love 
 of war, and the hope of action, which the trou- 
 bled times must inevitably bring, lighted up 
 his saddened look, and mdfeked the grey hairs 
 that were scattered on his hard brow.
 
 20 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " There, he observed, and new emotions felt, 
 Was my first home — my noble master dwelt ; 
 Eager he entered, and then tried to trace 
 Some youthful features in some aged face." 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 At no great distance from the dell, or hol- 
 low, already mentioned, stood the ancient house 
 of Stowe, that had been the seat of the Gran- 
 villes for more than five hundred years. From 
 the sullen and desolate aspect of the country' 
 that spread on every side, it should seem that 
 its illustrious Norman founder, in his choice of 
 a site, had remembered, with some attachment, 
 the waste scenery of his own land. In the im- 
 mediate vicinity of the mansion there was, how-
 
 O STRATTON HILL. 21 
 
 ever, much beauty, scattered by the tasteful 
 and improving hands of its successive possessors. 
 Few of these were such warriors as their noble 
 ancestors Robert Fitz Hamon, and Richard de 
 Granville, brothers, and Earls of Normandy, 
 who fought under the Conqueror at the battle 
 of Hastings ; and who afterwards, having had 
 merely a taste of fighting, chose twelve more 
 knights for their companions, and entering Wales 
 with an army, slew Reese the prince, in a pitched 
 battle, and made an entire conquest of Glamor- 
 ganshire. The next descendant of these worthy 
 barons had for his share of this spoil the old 
 castle of Neath, and he founded in that territory 
 an " abbey for religious monks,"" and endowed it 
 with all the lands he held in Wales. To such a 
 pitch did he carry his zeal, that after some years 
 he took on him the sign of the Cross, and set out 
 on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, but found it 
 easier, probably, to wage battles, and gain fair 
 domains, than to endure penances; for he died 
 on the way, and was buried in the odour of sanc- 
 tity. Little that was distinguished is recorded
 
 22 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 in the lives of the successive knights and earls 
 of the line, till that of Roger, who, in the reign 
 of Henry the Eighth, was called the Great 
 Housekeeper, for his open and liberal hospi- 
 tality ; and his son Richard served in the wars, 
 and was made marshal of Calais, and also re- 
 ceived rich manors, spoiled by the King from 
 one of the monasteries. That the honour of 
 the high name was well maintained by each in 
 his generation, is evident from an epitaph at a 
 much later period over a comparatively obscure 
 relative, discovered among the ancient funeral 
 monuments in Bristol college, to the me- 
 mory ^of Mrs. Bridget Weeks. 
 
 By birth a Greenville, and that name 
 Was enough epitaph and fame ; 
 She was, whilst she did live, a wife. 
 The glorie of her husband's life. 
 
 And 'tis no doubt but grief had made 
 The husband, as the wife, a shade ; 
 But that his death Heaven did defer 
 Awhile to stay, and weep for her. 
 
 In the reign of Elizabeth, Sir Richard Gran-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 23 
 
 ville was one of the foremost of those martial 
 spirits who supported by their hardy deeds the 
 fame of the Maiden Queen, and the honour 
 of her realm. He served first against the Turks 
 in Pannonia, under the Emperor Ferdinand, and 
 was afterwards present at the famous battle of 
 Lepanto. He was many years after Vice-ad- 
 miral under Lord Howard, and the last heroic 
 act of his life in his ship the Revenge deserved 
 an eternal monument. Evelyn says, in his 
 quaint words, " Than this what have we more ? 
 what can be greater .?'' yet neither tomb, nor 
 tablet, nor high-wrought marble tells of the 
 deed. " Being becalmed with his single ship in 
 the midst of the Spanish fleet, he fought till 
 eleven at night, when all his crew were killed or 
 wounded, and himself mortally, causing a loss 
 to the Spaniards of four vessels, and a thousand 
 men, including two commanders ; ' so that it 
 may be said, the Revenge made good her name,' 
 says an old writer ; surviving not long the death 
 of her commander, and sunk in a storm, with 
 very many of the enemy on board.'' The
 
 24 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 grandson of this Admiral was the present lord 
 of the domain, Sir Bevill Granville, now in the 
 prime of his age. Although his career had been 
 hitherto political rather than martial, it did not 
 appear to those who knew him, should the 
 chances of the time call for a determined leader, 
 that he would in any way sully the name of his 
 ancestor. At the University he had been dis- 
 tinguished for a rapid progress in learning, and 
 the degree of Bachelor of Arts had even been 
 conferred on him at seventeen years of age. On 
 returning to his native patrimony, his public 
 spirit, as well as labours for the good of his 
 county, had been conspicuous on all occasions. 
 This latter had been represented by him in the 
 two last parliaments, and in all those of the un- 
 fortunate Charles. His dwelling possessed not, 
 it is true, the refinements, or voluptuous adorn- 
 ments that were lavished on it at a later period, 
 when it is said to have exhibited " unusual 
 splendour, having elegant fountains, gardens, 
 and statues, and the interior of the magnificent 
 edifice was beautified by the most eminent Eng-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 25 
 
 lish and Italian masters." Such was not now 
 the case, yet the resources as well as charms 
 of the domain, contented no doubt its present 
 possessors, as it had done the former ones. 
 The taste must have been more fastidious 
 than generally belonged to the ancient families 
 of this period, that could not be pleased with 
 the wild yet diversified attractions of the re- 
 sidence of Stowe. 
 
 The mansion stood on a gentle eminence, 
 that overlooked on one side a richly wooded 
 valley, beyond which was a noble view of the 
 sea. The park had store of deer, and wanted 
 not here and there thick and venerable groups 
 of oaks and scattered clumps of firs. On the 
 north, a path led by a swift descent, to the deep 
 dell, or bottom, as it was called, in which 
 was jthe village before-mentioned. 
 
 Here about half-way down, at the foot of the 
 bank, were the remains of what was supposed 
 to have been a small hermitage ; a single 
 roofless apartment, with arched doorway and 
 window, and the fragments of a rude altar of 
 
 VOL, I. c .
 
 26 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 moor-Stone within. Nature had ever intended 
 this spot for an abode of peace ; though, as 
 the times grew more unruly and agitated, its 
 privacy was invaded by spirits, lawless as the 
 storms that often raged at the boundaries of 
 the dell beneath, and wild as the cormorant 
 that made his home in their dizzy heights. 
 
 The mansion itself had a very antique ap- 
 pearance; and it resulted from the additions 
 and improvements of several preceding centu- 
 ries, that the architecture was neither unique 
 nor imposing. The principal front was in the 
 earliest and massive Norman style, with the 
 arms carved in stone, and proudly embattled 
 over the entrance. The wings had evidently 
 been added at a later period ; the windows 
 were larger, and framed with stone works. In 
 the middle of the building was a square court, 
 neatly paved, whose chief purpose was to give 
 light to the adjacent apartments ; which, with- 
 out this aid, would have enjoyed only a very 
 doubtful gloom. Many of the old dwellings 
 of this as well as a subsequent age, would,
 
 STRATTON HILL. 27 
 
 but for this prison-like inclosure within walls, 
 towers and chimneys, have had much of their 
 interior left in absolute darkness. Several 
 mansions are still remaining, the windows of 
 whose long and dull apartments look out only 
 on this gloomy square, its untrodden pave- 
 ment covered with the verdure of ages. Save 
 that the sky is overhead, and the sound of life 
 prevails around, a feudal chief might have 
 paused between the prison in the " turreted 
 tower" for his captive, or this more cheerful 
 but equally hopeless one. 
 
 The front of the eastern wing, or tower it 
 might rather be called, was overrun with ivy, 
 that gave extreme beauty to its grey and 
 circular walls, almost shrouding the massive 
 windows that at long intervals were deeply 
 imbedded in them, and even the finely painted 
 one, that lighted the vast dining-room, and 
 looked on the noble expanse of the sea. 
 
 Three large and strong doors gave entrance 
 to the building, and were iron-bound, and 
 almost bullet-proof ; the centre gate, the most 
 c2
 
 2S STRATTON HILL. 
 
 massive of the three, that rolled slow and 
 ponderously on its hinges, was left hospitably 
 open from morn till night, and many were 
 the feet of the suppliant, and the proud, that 
 crossed its threshold. 
 
 The solid but graceless stone edifice looked 
 dark with age. It was approached by a long 
 avenue of trees, consisting chiefly of oak and 
 elm, and a small and thick wood of these trees, 
 mingled with beech, screened it behind from 
 the sharp eastern winds. 
 
 It was yet early in the morning; the dense 
 fog that had slowly risen from the hollow be- 
 neath, and spread itseflf over the flat land 
 around, was scarcely broken and dispersed by 
 the rays of the sun, when an elderly man was 
 observed advancing up the long avenue of 
 oak trees. His step was lighter than his age 
 seemed to warrant, and he often turned his 
 eyes earnestly from side to side, on every green 
 field, and cottage, and group of trees, that 
 broke the monotony of the scene. As he 
 drew near the ancient walls, he paused in
 
 STRATTON HILL. 29 
 
 surprise on observing their usual peaceful 
 aspect was changed into a troubled and war- 
 like one. Workmerf were busy in the attempt 
 to fortify the strong and thick front walls. 
 The grey towers, on which the royal stand- 
 ard floated, and martial faces were seen, al- 
 ready frowned defiance on every hostile ap- 
 proach. Culverins were mounted there, and 
 the ivy, that had for ages mantled the east- 
 ern tower, crept round the instruments of 
 death, and, displaced by the rude feet and 
 weapons from its ancient hold, was idly waved 
 to and fro by the breeze. The eye of the 
 attached retainer kindled as he gazed on these 
 preparations, and passing into the interior of 
 the dwelling, he mingled with the domestics, 
 and sought for some form that he had known 
 in past days. It was some time ere he recog- 
 nized among the unknown faces of the former, 
 that of an old companion of his youth, a fel- 
 low-servant in the family under its former 
 master. The congratulations on both sides were 
 rough, yet heartfelt ; they had both grown old
 
 30 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 in the same service, and their only hope was 
 to close their days in it. Whether in the 
 field or flood was ahke indifferent to the one, 
 while the other, who was the butler, having 
 passed a long life beneath the roof, and known 
 few troubles, save what a thunder-storm had 
 caused in the cellar, or when contrary winds 
 had kept back the supply of the French vint- 
 age from the coast, shrunk at the clash of 
 arms and the hurried preparations around, 
 and already fancied he heard the cannon of 
 the fierce Parliament's army at the gates. 
 
 When the long converse about past and pre- 
 sent times, as well as fearful comments on the 
 future, drew to a close between the two wor- 
 thies, neither of whom lacked the usual gar- 
 rulity of years, and Andrews had done ample 
 justice to the solid viands placed before him, 
 he inquired when he could be admitted to 
 speak with Sir Beville, and whether he was yet 
 risen. 
 
 "He's ever up with the dawn," said his 
 friend ; " his spirit 's too active, and has e'en
 
 STRATTON HILL. 31 
 
 too much upon it now to allow him long slum- 
 ber. I Ve heard his voice upon the west tower 
 three hours agone." * 
 
 " It 's true then, the report I Ve heard, that 
 there's a rising in the countries, and that his 
 Lordship is at the head o' it ?" 
 
 " Ay ! they '11 muster strong a few days 
 hence, they say, and the trained bands are 
 drawn out, and marched against the Scotch 
 leader, the governor of Plymouth. The Sawnie 
 trusted himself and his men too far from their 
 strong hold, and thought, maybe, that ven- 
 turing into our land was like making a raid 
 by his own borders, but he 's sore mistaken ; 
 he was goin' to drive the savages, he said, 
 into their holes and dens, but they didna wait 
 for 'em : many of his men lie stark and stiff, 
 and the rest fled with their general as fast 
 as if they were fleein' from a wizard land. But 
 I '11 go see if his honour would be pleased to 
 see ye yet awhile." 
 
 In a short time the cautious butler returned 
 with an approving answer, and conducted his
 
 32 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 quondam fellow-servant into the presence of 
 his master. It was with an anxious look and 
 a beating heart that the former gazed again 
 on the representative of a family to whom he 
 had devoted all his long career ; on the de- 
 scendant of the master whom he had loved 
 dearer than his life. It was the bearing of 
 Sir Richard, for which he sought the eye, so 
 kind, yet resolute; the calm and open counte- 
 nance, whose expression set the humblest in- 
 stantly at their ease. 
 
 There was much of these in his illustrious 
 grandson ; yet of a more refined and impressive 
 character : the former had the bearing chiefly 
 of the warrior, calm and devoted : the latter, of 
 a more cultivated mind and loftier understand- 
 ing, bore in his glance the stamp of a man, in 
 whom princes might take refuge in the hour of 
 trouble. 
 
 Sir Beville rose, and advancing, took the 
 hand of the faithful retainer of his ancestor, and 
 pressed it warmly in his own ; the look and the 
 manner with which this was done went to the
 
 STRATTON HILL. 33 
 
 old man's heart — " You are welcome, An- 
 drews," said the former, " to Stowe ; it must 
 be 3^our home, henceforth, for life — your last 
 resting-place. The man who fought so bravely 
 by my grandfather's side shall never wander 
 forth again from his roof-tree." 
 
 " It is my dearest wish, and I may say my 
 last one, my lord, to be by the Granville's side, 
 whatever betide ; I have proved it in acts, if I 
 may be allowed to say so, as well as in words." 
 
 " I know it, old man, I know it well. Sir 
 Richard's letters, for I never saw his face, often 
 told of your tried attachment : you were with 
 him too, when he died, and such a death ! — 
 O that mine may be even as his I" he said so- 
 lemnly, his features glowing for a moment with 
 the remembrance. — " At another time we will 
 talk more of these things, for you were with 
 him long. If your hand can yet wield the 
 sword, and your limbs are not wearied with the 
 armour's weight, Andrews, you may find work 
 once more under the banner that has cherished 
 you, and in the best of causes." 
 c 5
 
 34 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 " Wearied, your honour !" said the other, 
 in a tone almost of scorn, while the colour rush- 
 ed over his weather-beaten cheek, " wearied, 
 when the banner of the house is unfurled, and 
 the Granville is in the field ! the helm and the 
 breastplate will sit lighter on me then, than 
 when I wore them by your ancestor's side in the 
 battle of Lepanto, or when he fought against 
 the Infidels, where the burning heat wasted 
 more than the fiercest strife." 
 
 " Why then you shall have a charge near 
 my own person ; for age seems to have done its 
 part but feebly on that rugged frame: you 
 were once keen at your weapons, I have heard, 
 and can hardly yet have forgotten the use of 
 them." 
 
 " They are with me stil), my lord ; the same 
 that I wore and fought with in my youth ; and 
 death only shall part me from the sword that 
 was my poor master's, and which fell from his 
 hand when it was shattered by the Spanish 
 bullet, and his broken body soon sunk be- 
 side it."
 
 STRATTON HILL. 35 
 
 " Ay, those were days when brave men 
 contended only with the bitter enemies of their 
 country and Sovereign, for whom it was alike 
 sweet to live or die; but now, old man, Eng- 
 land fights with herself, and you are come in 
 your last years to see sights which the wildest 
 never thought to see, and mingle in broils 
 which bring sorrow to every hearth, whether 
 of the hovel or the palace. But go, and min- 
 gle with the new levies that are lately come 
 in who know little of war but the name ; the 
 experience of an old soldier may stead them 
 much." 
 
 At the conclusion of these words, Andrews 
 made his lowly obeisance to his patron, and 
 withdrew to his former companion, whom he 
 assured, that in spite of time he began to fancy 
 he was once more embarked, as in days of yore, 
 in some gallant enterprise under his old leader, 
 so strong was the resemblance in the look, the 
 bearing, and the very tone of the voice. In fine, 
 the observation of the inspired writer, that 
 at seventy years " labour and sorrow" only are
 
 36 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 the portion left, and that man seeks for rest, 
 admitted of an exception in the case of the 
 veteran, as he strode along the walls with a 
 busy and important look and step, surveying 
 earnestly the preparations for resistance that 
 had been begun, and pausing, with a critic's eye 
 on any exposed or dilapidated spot, as if the 
 fate of the dwelling of six centuries of nobles 
 had rested only on his own fancy and judg- 
 ment. 
 
 It was yet scarcely mid-day when a trumpet 
 was heard to sound at some distance ; it breath- 
 ed no hostile note, and a small body of troop« 
 soon came in view, advancing slowly towards 
 the mansion. It was composed chiefly of horse, 
 that looked, both men and steeds, when they 
 halted before the great gate, as if they had been 
 in recent and severe service. The looks of the 
 cavaliers were too confident, however, to allow 
 the belief that this had been attended with de- 
 feat, particularly those of their commander, 
 afterwards the celebrated Sir Ralph Hopton. 
 
 Possessing the rank of general of horse to
 
 STRATTON HILL. 37 
 
 the marquis of Hertford, who was commander- 
 in-chief in the western parts, he had already 
 done good service, and been placed in situations 
 of great trust. Full of zeal in the cause, Corn- 
 wall was given him as a busy and fitting field of 
 action, and it soon became the theatre of his 
 future fame. He did not belie the expectations 
 formed of his talents and prudence, and strove 
 by every art and conciliation, to unite the wa- 
 vering and irresolute in. the cause he represent- 
 ed. It cannot be said there were many of this 
 character in the province ; a strong feeling of 
 sympathy and indignation at the wrongs of their 
 sovereign seemed to pervade the greater part of 
 the population, both high and low, the peasant, 
 the squire, and the noble. 
 
 The visit of Gustavus to the miners of Dale- 
 carlia, the last and successful refuge of his fail- 
 ing fortunes, had a faithful parallel in the 
 entrance of the loyal commanders, and subse- 
 quently of their ill-fated master into the wilds 
 of Cornwall. On Hopton's arrival, he found 
 several thousands of what were called the train-
 
 38 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 ed bands already in arms ; but as these troops 
 refused to inarch out of the county, he collect- 
 ed, with the aid of some of the leading gentle- 
 men, about fifteen hundred regular troops, with 
 which he not only secured the province, but 
 made inroads into the neighbouring one of 
 Devon. 
 
 The Parhament resolved to put a stop to this 
 active and successful career, and having got 
 together some forces, the command was given 
 to the Earl of Stamford, who sent Ruthven, a 
 Scotchman, and governor of Plymouth, at their 
 head. The latter advanced with confidence, for 
 his forces were superior in number to those 
 of his antagonist : they encountered on Bradock 
 Down, near Liskeard, where he was entirely 
 defeated by Hopton, and most of his army 
 killed, or taken prisoners. Had the victors 
 possessed the bards or the seers of the North, 
 many of whose natives lay slain on the exten- 
 sive waste where the battle was fought, and 
 in the pursuit afterwards, the details of the 
 action, with many a comment, would have
 
 STRATTON HILL. 39 
 
 been transmitted to their children of future 
 generations. At it was, the deeds of that day 
 were often fouglit over again, not to " the harp's 
 wild sound ;" but in the far wilder native 
 tongue. This was not in itself unraelodious, 
 but no talented wight was found, whose ingenuity 
 and patriotism could bring flowers and odours 
 out of the wilderness. 
 
 The effects of the late success had been deci- 
 sive : the enemy had been chased beyond the 
 borders ; and Hopton was now making a par- 
 tial progress through the territory he had freed, 
 in order to augment and concentrate the royal 
 forces. 
 
 The seat of Stowe being situated far to the 
 North, was one of the first places he halted at, 
 and it was also one of the most desired. On 
 dismounting from his charger, he was received 
 and welcomed in the warmest manner by the 
 noble owner. 
 
 The troop, about a hundred and fifty in 
 number, were quartered in and around the hos- 
 pitable mansion ; while the leader, having first
 
 40 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 divested himself of the weightier parts of his 
 armour, was ushered into the presence of its 
 mistress. 
 
 She was seated in a high and gloomy apart- 
 ment, into which the small and casemented win- 
 dows allowed the light to enter partially : it 
 was hung with faded tapestry, and the table 
 at which the lady sat, engaged in some work 
 of embroidery, was covered with black velvet. 
 Beside her were three of her children ; one 
 son, and two fair daughters. 
 
 Sir Ralph Hopton, but lately come from war 
 and tumult, and the spectacle of the fiercest 
 passions drawn forth, gazed with delight at this 
 calm and beautiful picture of domestic happi- 
 ness. Unmarried himself, though some years 
 older than his host, and embarked in a career 
 in which destruction trod closely on the heels of 
 fame, he thought with a sigh of a condition that 
 seemed to be placed far beyond his reach. The 
 thought and the hope were, perhaps, but mo- 
 mentary ; the high and exciting events that al- 
 most every day brought forth, and their urgent
 
 STRATTON HILL. 41 
 
 demand on the incessant exertion of his talents 
 and foresight, soon expelled the vision of re- 
 pose from his fancy. Then he was now known 
 as a successful leader, and the future might 
 place his name even among the highest of the 
 time. 
 
 The lady Grace was still in the flower of her 
 life, and scarcely thirty years of age ; she had 
 never mingled in courts, though few would 
 have there met with a more gracious reception ; 
 but had preferred to reside amidst the retire- 
 ment and quiet of her own remote home, occu- 
 pied chiefly in the instruction of her children, and 
 had anxiously declined her husband's entreaties 
 to accompany him, when his parliamentary du- 
 ties called him away. This reluctance had not 
 arisen from want of affection, for never did she 
 know the same happiness within the ancient 
 walls of Stowe when her husband, to whom she 
 was devoted, was not there; but a dislike to 
 the dissipations of life, induced her to prefer 
 what many ladies of the time would have 
 deemed a weary and unattractive seclusion.
 
 42 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 The expression of her countenance was, in 
 Sir Beville's eye, far beyond that of exquisite 
 beauty, for he had married early, and still re- 
 garded her with all the partiality of a first and 
 ardent affection. Her features were regular 
 and full of sweetness; and the latter quality 
 peculiarly distinguished her manners, that sel- 
 dom failed to win the regard and good- will of 
 those who approached her. When Lady Grace 
 spoke, men did not hang with eagerness on any 
 briUiant sallies of wit, or keen and eloquent 
 satire ; but they often listened with dehght to 
 her conversation, the fruit of a mind, as well as 
 reading, that seemed to have gone beyond her 
 years. 
 
 Had this amiable woman chanced to be the 
 bride of some " noble or baron bold,**' who ran 
 his rude course in this, as well as in more ci- 
 vihzed provinces, her worth, may be, had been 
 neglected or overlooked ; but the companion of a 
 man of high talent and generous feeling, she was 
 as " an apple of gold set in pictures of silver." 
 
 In the fierce struggle that bad commenced.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 43 
 
 she foresaw it was impossible that her husband 
 could avoid taking an active part. The re- 
 presentative of the county, he could not sit 
 down a quiet spectator, when the mind of 
 every private man was tossed and agitated on 
 one side or the other. Often had he dwelt 
 and even debated on the subject with his 
 lady, day after day, well knowing the wide 
 influence his example would have, and from 
 some past experience in the North, where he 
 had accompanied the King with his own body 
 of horse, was well aware of the miseries of a 
 civil contest. Lady Grace, although she felt 
 even to agony the consequences to herself of 
 such a step, never for a moment sought to 
 turn his resolve from the path which ho- 
 nour and loyalty alike marked out. The fre- 
 quent and perilous, it might be total, absence 
 of its lord from the home of his fathers — the 
 home where all her happiness centered ; the 
 bloody field, the chances of defer^^t and death ; 
 all these were present to her imagination by 
 day and night, and the woman wept bitterly,
 
 44 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 while the wife resolved on the sacrifice. It 
 was not that Sir Beville ever doubted of the 
 part he was to act ; his devotion to the King 
 and his sense of his wrongs, were too ardent 
 to allow him to stop short of proving them by 
 deeds. Soon after the breaking out of the war, 
 he retired to his seat at Stowe, where he re- 
 sisted for some time the entreaties of his coun- 
 trymen, to put himself at their head. But 
 when the designs of the Commons became 
 more undisguised and arbitrary, he quitted at 
 once his state of inaction, took up arms, and 
 with a body of forces rescued the town of 
 Launceston, where he defeated the rebels, and 
 soon after brought the whole of the county 
 into submission to the King. It was not long 
 after this, that Hopton arrived at Stowe to 
 pass a few days. 
 
 " A scene such as this, Sir Beville," said 
 the guest, " is enough to make an old soldier 
 truant from the field ; and deem ease and re- 
 tirement sweeter than the mountain camp and 
 the foughten field."
 
 STRATTON HILL. 45 
 
 " You should not deem it so," said the 
 lady, " who have freshly gathered so much 
 honour there. I doubt if wife or children 
 v/ould have power sufficient to woo Sir Ralph 
 Hopton from the field." 
 
 '' It may not be quitted now, Madam, for 
 the dearest ties or the most resistless attrac- 
 tions : we are pledged not to lay aside our 
 armour, or to yield to the silver voices of 
 home, till this unnatural rebellion is quelled. 
 Yet I envy my friend so lovely a resting place 
 as his own walls afford.'"* 
 
 " It is even so," replied the host ; " yet when 
 I think how many nobles are at this moment 
 homeless, their dwellings plundered, and the 
 quiet delights of their own hearths broken and 
 scattered — and the King too, an exile from his 
 palace, a wanderer through his own domain — it 
 seems I have more, far more than my deserts; 
 that I ought not thus to revel in the cloudless 
 sunbeams, while on the anointed head no ray 
 falls." 
 
 " Thanks for this security to your remote
 
 46 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 situation, Sir Beville, rather than to any for- 
 tunate star. Had Stowe stood any where in 
 the Midland counties, or nearer the seat of 
 action, its ancient walls would ere this hour 
 have been desolate ; many stronger holds have 
 been ravaged, and it could hardly have stood 
 a long siege." 
 
 " It is true," replied the lady, " the march 
 of the Parliament's army may be tracked 
 by desolation and outrage against all who 
 are conspicuous for their allegiance. Ere 
 this, we had seen their standards before our 
 own walls, however remote they stand, but 
 for your timely success, General, at Bradock 
 Down. It is said, they had threatened ven- 
 geance on the grey towers of Stowe, that in 
 a few days they should have been levelled with 
 the ground — or what would suit the taste of 
 their mob leaders much better, made their 
 head-quarters, till little remained save the dis- 
 honoured roofs and walls." 
 
 " Never, while I breathe," said Sir Beville, 
 eagerly, " shall they be poUated by their re-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 47 
 
 publican footsteps, or be to them a place 
 of licence and revel. Sooner would I wander 
 forth with those dear pledges, homeless and 
 landless, and give ray dwelling to the flames." 
 
 " The hour is far distant," replied Hopton, 
 " that will require such a sacrifice, and never. 
 I trust, my lady, will you see the rebel flag 
 wave from Stowe. It stayed not, in truth, on 
 hill or heath, and seemed to shrink from their 
 very air within its folds. So rapid was Ruth- 
 ven's flight, that he did not stop to look be- 
 hind him till fairly over the frontiers." 
 
 "The defeat was entire, I understand," re- 
 joined the other. " Ruthven is said to be a good 
 and brave officer; it was his character as such, 
 that induced the Parliament to give him the 
 command of Plymouth." 
 
 " He strove hard," observed the guest; " to 
 turn the fate of the day, but his troops lost 
 heart; he would have given his Scotch pedi- 
 gree, I fancy, had one of his native glens or 
 heathy hills been at hand to cover the retreat ; 
 but they ran over the wide, open downs, a
 
 48 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 mark for every shot, and not a bank, rock, 
 or tree, was there to give a moment's shelter." 
 
 " You showed mercy, however. General," 
 said the lady ; " when there was no refuge left 
 to the flying, and did not stain your success 
 with slaughter ; and for that generous bearing, 
 credit me, victory will not pass away from your 
 standard."" 
 
 " Many thanks for the prediction, which I 
 will sooner put faith in from your ladyship''s 
 lips, than from those of the greatest seer in 
 the land. 
 
 "As to seers," said Sir Beville, "there are 
 two or three of them, who live in the hills along 
 the coast, in whom the people place entire con- 
 fidence. Their skill, or gift, or whatever it be, 
 resembles much the second-sight among the 
 natives of Scotland, that I heard much of at 
 the time I was on the border. They pretend to 
 foretel the approach of tempests, and shipwrecks, 
 and are much consulted by the fishermen and 
 mariners. If Berkley is to be believed, your
 
 STRATTON HILL. 49 
 
 own victory was foreseen, and described also by 
 the lonely being that inhabits among the crags 
 of the coast a few leagues distant. On the moor 
 was seen the flying footsteps, fleet as the wind, 
 and the eye of fear oft turned back ; they were 
 those of the prey, though not of the deer and 
 the fox; and the yellow furze was red with 
 their blood, and the dark fern was their shroud. 
 You look, lady Grace, as if you really had faith 
 in this sapient prophecy." 
 
 " By no means : yet it is a little singular that 
 strange being's words should have chanced to 
 be so fulfilled. I have known one or two in- 
 stances of his having told of a coming storm to 
 the tenants of the neighbouring cove, and more 
 than one fishing-boat perished by disregard- 
 ing it. I deserve that you should laugh at my 
 weakness ; but this unhappy war, and the perils 
 it brings to those who act a chief part in it, 
 have made me superstitious." 
 
 The general's reply was cut short by the 
 entrance of the ancient butler, to announce that 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 the dinner was served, and the party adjourned 
 to the handsome room in the western tower, con- 
 siderably augmented by several other guests, 
 relatives chiefly of the host.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 51 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 '' Each in his narrow bed for ever laid_, 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." 
 
 Gray. 
 
 There are few scenes that interest all men 
 so deeply and lastingly as a solemn and silent 
 place of burial. Whether this interest be ex- 
 cited by associations and remembrances, hover- 
 ing round the resting-place of those we have 
 known, or by the conviction, that our own also 
 must infallibly be made there — it matters not. 
 The Turk, in general apathetic, loves to wan- 
 der amidst the monuments of his countrymen ; 
 and to gaze in silence on the turbaned pillars, 
 beneath which the ashes of his fathers are laid. 
 D 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF tLUHOtt 
 IIBRARX
 
 52 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 He is careful to surround them with as much 
 depth and beauty of foliage as possible, that 
 there the tempest may not beat, nor the wast- 
 ing heats destroy : often are their abodes of the 
 dead more attractive than those of the living. 
 The Arab pauses with a melancholy pleasure, 
 when the rude stones that mark the graves of 
 his tribe meet his eye in the boundless deserts, 
 placed in the shadow of some lofty precipice ; 
 where, though no verdure springs, the sand 
 glows not over the departed, and the well, sunk 
 deep beside, often makes the traveller bless the 
 tomb of the Bedoween. 
 
 And some such feelings, no doubt, had a share 
 in the attachment the inhabitants of the retired 
 village of Kilkhampton bore to their fine and 
 venerable church, and its adjoining cemetery. 
 
 They were proud of them ; and it is not ne- 
 cessary to believe the good villagers were fond 
 of the romantic and the lonely, in order to 
 account for this pride. Choicer spirits dwelt 
 near, and the passing traveller, who paused to 
 admire the many attractions gathered around
 
 STRATTON HILL. 53 
 
 the spot, was convinced no rustic taste or hand 
 had planned or realised them. 
 
 Situated a few miles only from Stowe, the 
 sacred edifice, as well as the land immediately 
 in its vicinity, might be said to be the patri- 
 mony of the family who dwelt there. It had 
 been built by an ancient baron of the line. It 
 is approached through a fine avenue of vene- 
 rable oaks, whose shade always rests on the zig 
 zag Norman arch, that forms the principal en- 
 trance, over which are the words " Porta Cceli," 
 for the good lords who first reposed here, 
 dreamed not of the heresy of their successors. 
 Over a lower entrance on the same side, is a 
 small arch, in the Saracenic style, with the 
 arms of Granville, erected perhaps by that 
 religious baron, who set out to the East, not to 
 become a paladin, but to pour his last vows 
 amidst its famous scenes. The church has three 
 roofs, (for even at this day its beauty is the 
 same) and a stately tower at the west end. 
 The interior is light and spacious, the ceiling 
 supported by two rows of slender pillars, and
 
 54 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 obtuse Gothic arches. The thin columns, so dif- 
 ferent from the generally low and massive ones 
 of the time, have their shafts richly clustered. 
 Beneath and around are monuments of departed 
 nobles, engraved with arms, titles, and impe- 
 rishable praises, mingled with long Norman and 
 British pedigrees. To rest near such high re- 
 mains, seems to have been a point of ambition with 
 the numerous families and branches of families 
 closely or distantly related to them when living, 
 for the floor is nearly covered with countless 
 monumental inscriptions; not a slab of the 
 ancient pavement that is not alive with the 
 names of sires, maids, wives, and widows, all 
 worthy in their generation — but all related to 
 the thrice noble blood of Corbeil and Thorigny. 
 The attractions of the exterior are perhaps, to 
 an indifferent eye, greater than those within, as 
 the walls are for the most part clothed in dense 
 and rich foliage. The grey face of the struc- 
 ture here and there looks out from its dark 
 mantle of ivy; the stately oaks that veil, in 
 their loftiness, much of the antique tower,
 
 «TRATTON HILL. 55 
 
 throw their canopy of shade over the neat and 
 verdant interior of the church-yard. It is 
 surely sweet to sleep our last sleep beneath the 
 shadow of trees, though Ossian's heroes pre- 
 ferred that the sun should glance brightly on 
 their graves: the tenants of the village had 
 not this prospect before them save where some 
 scattered rays struggled through the thick 
 branches on the modest memorials beneath. It 
 was also a feeling of no small satisfaction, that 
 no stranger was laid there ; the green and cool 
 sod, which they looked on as pecuharly their 
 own, or rather their generous lord'^s, was not, it 
 was said, ever broken for the unknown and 
 wayfaring man, or for the tenant of some distant 
 province. The people who dwelt around saw 
 no name on the simple tombstones, whose race 
 personally or by hearsay they had not known ; 
 and for themselves, they might say in the closing 
 hour, as of old, " bury me in the burial-place 
 of my fathers, which is by the aged tree." 
 
 The village of Kilkhampton at this time 
 enjoyed a superiority over many others of the
 
 56 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 county, in respect of its patronage. Some of 
 the buildings had quite a respectable appear- 
 ance, and were tenanted by small landhold- 
 ers, or by those who were engaged in the few 
 branches of commerce then enjoyed here. Not 
 that these dwellings shone in moor stone fronts 
 and capacious windows, whose tempting signs 
 speak of luxuries from far and sunny lands ; 
 the half obscure shops revealed within their 
 wooden recesses the linen, cotton, and wines and 
 brandies from other climes, — the wool was the 
 produce of the neighbourhood. Small as it was, 
 the place had its distinctions of rank, its little 
 aristocracy — in particular, a decayed and an- 
 cient family that lived in the stone mansion- 
 house in the cross, that with its massive portico, 
 thick and yellow looking walls, and windows 
 like sky-lights, might have been taken for the 
 castle keep. The race that had long dwelt 
 here had all gone to their last home save a 
 brother and sister, now entering on the vale 
 of life. As each year made still more grey 
 each brow, and faded each lofty look, still more
 
 STRATTON HILL. 57 
 
 tenacious were they of the pure and ancient 
 blood that flowed in their veins ; and this was 
 one cause of their having lived unmated and 
 unblessed rather than soil or stain it by a con- 
 nection with any of the neighbouring families. 
 
 To be sure, a smile or a nod, and now and 
 then a few words, or a passing salutation on 
 the Sunday from the noble owners of Stowe, 
 were sufficient to send them to their stern 
 dwelling, happy exceedingly ; and then, seat- 
 ing themselves after their early and sedate 
 repast, each at one of the small windows or 
 embrasures, they gazed on the different groups 
 who passed by, with many a sweet and disdain- 
 ful comment on their lowly lineage and name- 
 less lineT 
 
 It cannot be said that in outward show any 
 other dwelling in the village could compete 
 with the aforesaid ; being in general built of 
 more fragile materials. 
 
 There was, however, a degree of cleanness 
 
 and good keeping about the whole place, that 
 
 was little to be observed in the provincial town- 
 D 5
 
 58 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 ships of the period. Not that these character- 
 istics were carried to such excess as in the cele- 
 brated Dutch village, whose single long street 
 no horse's tread was permitted to sully, or pipe 
 to be smoked on the pure pavement, or on the 
 banks of the transparent stream that divided it 
 in twain. The miry, neglected, and often im- 
 passable thoroughfare, that in most villages 
 separated one row of mud or wooden dwellings 
 from another, might here with some justice be 
 called a street ; for it was wide, coarsely paved, 
 and in the middle a group of four or five old 
 and tall trees, which the oldest dweller had 
 heard his sire say had always been there, con- 
 tributed to the air of comfort that was spread 
 around. The most pleasing points of view, it 
 is said, are those presented to us by the vivid 
 contrast of objects ; the dark and deep foliage, 
 and the compact village clustered around it, 
 looked doubly welcome amidst the long dreary 
 moors by which they were surrounded, and the 
 headlands on whose verge almost they stood. 
 This village, that seemed to want no com-
 
 ^TRATTON HILL. 59 
 
 tort, suited to the taste and manners of the 
 times, could boast of but one inn, as it was 
 not a great thoroughfare from city to city, 
 and travellers in that day were few, and by 
 no means abounding in wealth. 
 
 This single place of entertainment was found 
 sufficient for need as well as luxury. It was a 
 neat, decent-looking dwelling, with a capacious 
 wooden portico, and a stone bench on each side. 
 
 The aforesaid group of primitive trees, that 
 stood directly facing, at a few yards' distance 
 only, gave an air of coolness and retirement 
 during the summer months to the front of the 
 dwelHngs, as well as to the oft frequented seat 
 beneath, for their shadow was cast there. A 
 fountain of water, of excellent clearness, that 
 rose close by, formed the daily beverage of the 
 town's people. It had been made, by the care 
 and taste of the noble patron, to fall from an 
 arch of polished moorstone, on whose face, 
 just above where the stream issued, was carved 
 the head of the Saint, the ancient and revered 
 tutelar of the place. The awful features still
 
 60 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 gave their patronising expression over the clear 
 rush of waters ; but now, alas ! all unregarded, 
 not the thin and worn stone cross beside could 
 keep the gracious St. Petroc in countenance. 
 Once, no one passed the fountain without a 
 reverend contraction of aspect, — not a peasant, 
 or seaman, or even the wealthy land-owner, pre- 
 sumed to quaff their evening draught, or smoke 
 their pipe in the portico opposite, without the 
 cap being lifted from the forehead, and the 
 cross hastily made there. 
 
 The stone seat already spoken of had once 
 formed the appendage to the porch of a mo- 
 nastery a few miles distant, and was the resting- 
 place where many a good father had reposed 
 during the heat of day. Now, it did the 
 same offices, though more indiscriminately, 
 at the hostel of this remote place ; on it 
 sat mariners from the neighbouring ports, 
 village politicians, and adventurers who had 
 roamed to other lands — for this spirit was 
 rife at the time, having been excited by 
 the expedition of Drake, who had been fol-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 61 
 
 lowed beyond seas by many of his Cornish 
 countrymen a few years before. 
 
 The chill winds of the closing autumn had 
 by degrees compelled this coterie, or scavellin, 
 as it was provincially called, to quit their fa- 
 vourite sauntering-place, and seek a warmer one 
 within doors. The yellow leaves of the ancient 
 trees had often fallen sadly at the feet of this 
 cluster of idlers, as if to give them a lesson, had 
 they been disposed to receive it, while discuss- 
 ing the signs of the times, of the inevitable 
 destiny to which they, too, must yield, the 
 winter that would lay every head low, and 
 scatter the sagest dreams. By tacit and ge- 
 neral consent, the stone bench was now aban- 
 doned for the more cosie and sheltered one 
 that extended its circular sweep on the clean 
 and smooth pavement of the kitchen. The 
 driving blast, not even from the sharp east, 
 sweeping on occasion through the open door, 
 could invade the warmth and comfort of this 
 sanctorum, — this enviable refuge from the ri- 
 gours that, during winter, domineered without.
 
 62 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 The lofty back or screen of this seat rose to 
 within a few feet of the ceiling, and beneath, 
 far within the circle that it formed, blazed on 
 the wide centre of the hearth the cheerful and 
 unstinted fire. 
 
 The table that interposed its long body 
 between, was covered, as evening now drew 
 its early veil, with pots, cans, and vessels of 
 sundry form and magnitude. The magnum 
 bonum of claret for the choicer guest, not un- 
 frequently stood there, brought by the traders, 
 or even by the fishing-barks, from the isles of 
 Jersey and Guernsey, or from the adjoining 
 coast, then in amity. 
 
 Night had fairly sunk on the dwelHngs, on 
 the church, its tall tower, and solemn and 
 shaded cemetery ; each sound of industry had 
 died away ; the lights twinkled in the narrow- 
 windows on each side the street ; but the most 
 cheering, as well as social light, whether to 
 the hungry, wayworn, or benighted man, came 
 from those of the single though not solitary 
 inn. No noisy merriment or revel broke from
 
 STRATTON HILL. 65 
 
 thence on the silence of the hour ; not that the 
 inmates were not in full possession of their en- 
 joyments, which a casual observer would have 
 pronounced to be deep, and perhaps heartfelt, 
 rather than transient and vivid. But before we 
 proceed to speak of the guests who honoured 
 the " leu chimlie side" with their presence, it is 
 necessary to say something of her who was the 
 owner and director of the well-ordered mansion. 
 Dame,— or as she was sometimes with more 
 respect termed, mistress Tonkin, was somewhat 
 stricken in years ; yet her tall figure, a little 
 bent however, her keen and brisk glance, and 
 strong clear voice, baffled the approach of time, 
 and made the observer think he had dealt 
 gently with her. It was not that trouble and 
 sorrow had spared to plant deep lines in the 
 marked and still lively features, but she bore 
 them with the air rather of a conqueror than a 
 victim. Even the death of her son, " the only 
 son of his mother, and she was a widow," did 
 not break the hardy frame of her mind : he had 
 died, too, by an accident, suddenly, and not by
 
 64 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 the slow advances of disease ; yet the day after 
 his burial, she entered into all the petty and 
 arbitrary duties of her abode, with as unbroken 
 a tone of voice, as fierce a glance at her tardy 
 domestics, and dwelt that evening from her 
 own peculiar oaken chair, to a listening circle, 
 on the awful state of the times, with the same 
 knowing air and vivid colouring, that had de- 
 servedly made her pass for '' the wisest woman 
 in all the neighbourin." It may be doubted if 
 few, or any of the other sex in this enviable 
 spot, possessed the same shrewd and practised 
 knowledge of the world, as, without extrava- 
 gance, it might be termed. 
 
 Sole ruler within the walls of the sole " hos- 
 tel," as maid, wife, and widow, for forty years, 
 the various and motley people that had tarried 
 there, from the " baron bold" to the squire of 
 low degree, the pedlar, the pirate, and the fish- 
 erman, had not come and gone like shadows, 
 that leave no trace behind ; but had left her 
 memory a perfect treasure-house, from which
 
 STRATTON HILL. 65 
 
 she liked, as well as her neighbours, to draw on 
 occasions peculiarly social, or during the pre- 
 sence of a guest of more than usual interest. 
 
 It would seem that this was the case, in some 
 degree, on the present evening ; for, with her 
 arms supported on the still more ancient ones 
 of the oaken chair, her figure slightly bent for- 
 ward to add force to her words, and her large 
 eye lighted up with the theme, the " conynge 
 landladie*" poured forth of the stores of her ob- 
 servance of days that were past. No one ven- 
 tured to gainsay, for a biting sarcasm was ready 
 on the tongue ; especially if the intruder was 
 a man of no great reckoning; also the neigh- 
 bours said, let the dame say her say ; there 
 was always something worth listening to. Her 
 fair daughter, and only surviving child, a pale 
 and sad girl, with light hair and eyes, sat on a 
 low stool, opposite her mother. A more com- 
 plete contrast in two beings so nearly related to 
 each other, could not well be imagined ; and it 
 was striking to turn from the watchful, despotic 
 
 f
 
 66 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 glance of the elder, that almost looked into th^ 
 heart, to the meditative, shrinking regard of her 
 slender, finely formed, and silent companion. 
 
 Her look rested not on the faces of the guests, 
 far less confronted them, as if to balance their 
 respective claims, or to sneer at their preten- 
 sions ; — but she loved to bend on the glowing 
 embers, that crackled, and often started from 
 the hearth, in many an ominous and fantastic 
 shape, and then turn with a sigh to the simple 
 work of her own hands, that went slowly and 
 delicately on. 
 
 This sadness and seriousness were not without 
 a cause : young as she seemed, a plant fit only 
 to flourish within the " chimlie neuk," she too 
 was a widow. She had married two years be- 
 fore the captain of a trading vessel on the coast, 
 a young and comely man, and in a few months 
 afterwards, in his passage from Ireland, he was 
 washed overboard during a stormy night, and 
 seen to perish amidst the billows by his compa- 
 nions, who could afford no aid. She had never 
 been Uvely or happy since : by nature her tem-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 67 
 
 perament did not belong to the former ; but 
 since this misfortune, the youthful widow was 
 observed to become more and more abstracted 
 from the busy scene around her, and more averse 
 to its publicity. 
 
 Had she lived a century before, the veil, no 
 doubt, would have had its attractions, and the 
 lonely nunnery, that still survived at no great 
 distance, would have received another and a 
 willing votary within its walls. The mild and 
 oppressed spirit of the young woman sought 
 and found refuge in the same path, but at a 
 purer fountain. Even amidst the often hurry 
 and bustle of the affairs within doors, all unmeet 
 for sweet and lofty musings, her graceful and 
 wasted figure moved at times as in a region 
 whose tranquillity was unbroken. Always 
 neatly, and, on particular occasions, almost taste- 
 fully dressed, she gave the aid, and it was not 
 small, of her soft manners and smile, that made 
 the stranger enter with a blither feeling than 
 the wild region he had passed over, had pre- 
 pared him for. She was the only thing on
 
 68 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 earth her mother loved, who always let her 
 take, as she expressed it, her own ways and 
 wyles ; muttering at times, in a busy moment, 
 that Betsy might as well stir her legs and 
 tongue a little quicker, as sit thinking on things 
 that werena felt or seen. 
 
 A quiet sneer would sometimes come to the 
 old woman's eye, when bent fixedly on her 
 daughter, as she turned over, with a stillness 
 that allowed the rusthng of each leaf to be 
 heard, one of those pious works of the day, 
 whose dear enthusiasm had caught her mind. 
 
 The parent, like many elderly people, parti- 
 cularly women, who have borne and surmount- 
 ed the stern troubles of the world with a high 
 hand and unyielding heart, was disposed to 
 think lightly of the aid that religion gives to 
 the dependant mind, and the surrender of the 
 hopes and designs which it requires. 
 
 There were others at this time, however, with- 
 in the settle's ample sweep, to share her atten- 
 tion, and guests, it appeared, of no ordinary de- 
 gree. A young man, well dressed, whose mien
 
 STRATTON HILL. 69 
 
 and figure, though extremely good, did not war- 
 rant his being classed in the rank of a gentle- 
 man, sat at his ease, with a pipe of the best 
 Havannah in his mouth, and a bottle before him, 
 the size of which, as well as the hue of its con- 
 tents, differed materially from those of the more 
 dust- covered and capacious one that beguiled 
 the cares of a more elderly personage than him- 
 self. 
 
 His complexion was dark, from the effect evi- 
 dently of exposure in sultry climates ; for the 
 open collar at the neck disclosed a skin, whose 
 whiteness would have better befitted a woman 
 than one of his hardy character.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " For this I *11 dare the billows' roar, 
 For this 1 '11 trace the distant shore, 
 That Indian wealth may lustre throw." 
 
 Burns. 
 
 Next to this guest, yet far enough to avoid 
 any contact, sat the important figure of one of 
 the inmates of the massive and time-braving 
 1^ stone mansion already spoken of. Its lord he 
 could not be called, since half the empire at 
 least had been for many years enjoyed by his 
 sister. Their years were nearly the same, and, 
 they had Hved together in tolerable amity, and 
 each in perfect freedom from the tender ties 
 that bound, as the bell of the adjoining tower 
 weekly proclaimed, their fellow mortals toge-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 71 
 
 ther. The ancient blood that flowed richly in 
 her veins had turned to sourness and gall by 
 the consciousness of growing, although petty, 
 infirmities ; and the untimely decay, as she was 
 pleased to term it, of her youthful charms. The 
 neighbours, who for the last forty years had 
 never for a single day missed seeing the genial 
 pair appear at the window-seat or in the short 
 circular walk beneatli the row of ancient oaks 
 in the church-yard, did not remember that these 
 charms had ever been very seductive. But now, 
 another and a fairer generation had grown up 
 around her ; faces and forms passed every day 
 before the mansion, that were seen to ripen like 
 the rich fruits of autumn beneath a sultry sky, 
 and put her spare figure and grey hairs quite *3^ 
 out of countenance. These things could not be 
 borne with patience; the course of vexation and 
 repining gathered till it became like a torrent, 
 and, — in spite of an ample sufficiency of this 
 worWs comforts, as well as a larger stock of 
 health and robustness than her age could well 
 warrant, — rendered the interior of the revered
 
 72 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 family dwelling more like that " of the castle 
 keep, where prisoners weep, and cares and 
 sorrows dwell," than a place of indolent enjoy- 
 ment. Inclosed within the stately and thick walls 
 of his hereditary hold all the day, the brother 
 did not disdain at evening to come forth occa- 
 sionally to the cheerful inn. The long habits 
 of almost feudal attachment to the family at 
 Stowe cherished by every habitant, made this 
 remote branch of it be always treated with a 
 respect, which his personal qualifications might 
 have failed to insure. His undisputed title to 
 this high eminence could be proved by records 
 ancient and many, and more especially by a 
 small marble slab in the church, on the left side, 
 not far from the altar, that bore this inscrip- 
 tion — "Anno domini 1436; Arthurus Tren- 
 lyon, of Lanteglos, filius Thomas Trenn, et 
 Bridgett Greinvile." It so happened that the 
 first named personage, though long since num- 
 bered with his fathers, could trace his descent, 
 with scarcely a flaw, from the renowned Arthur, 
 prince and warrior, the boast not only of his
 
 STRATTON HILL. 73 
 
 province, but of the whole realm. Of this, Mr. 
 Trenlyon, who bore also the name of the heroic 
 Briton, was exceedingly vain and tenacious. It 
 could not be said that he bore, as he sat within 
 the settle, any close resemblance to his princely 
 ancestor. 
 
 Ensconced in the farthest corner, which, as 
 he said, was the lowest, his short neck manfully 
 supporting a head of no ungraceful contour, 
 Mr. Trenlyon cast an approving eye on the 
 brilliant hearth and table, on which bottles of 
 captivating age and contents stood in beautiful 
 confusion. Whatever mirth or humour passed 
 within his sou], they seldom mantled on his 
 hps, or discovered the really fine and white set 
 of teeth which years had spared. 
 
 In the eye, that dwelling-place and glorious 
 mirror of the spirit, appeared the various agi- 
 tations and delights that took place in the inner 
 man. Small, grey and active, beneath a well 
 arched and whitened eyebrow, it was capable 
 of a clear and vivid expression ; particularly 
 when a well-spread table, or appurtenances like 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 those set forth on the present occasion, met its 
 gaze ; above all, when it] rested on the ruins of 
 the ancestral castle, its light shone forth like 
 that of a Druid over the place of his rites in 
 the hollow cairn. The nose, long and slightly 
 hooked at the bottom, descended gracefully, as 
 if it sought to rest on the smooth, sleek ex- 
 panse of the chin. The forehead was a redeem- 
 ing feature : tall and expansive, it rose in fine 
 sweep towards the purely bald crown, behind 
 and around which drooped neatly and becom- 
 ingly the thick and silvery hair. Had Spurz- 
 heim then dwelt on the earth, in that forehead 
 he would have said dwelt the pure and high 
 blood of Granville and Therigny : it gave sign 
 also of high thoughts and designs ; but all be- 
 low was the residence only of sensual things, and 
 little carking anxieties. 
 
 He had listened at intervals with great atten- 
 tion to the details given by his younger compa- 
 nion, who, conscious of the attention of his au- 
 ditory, was painting in glowing terms the dis-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 75 
 
 (ant climes in which he had dwelt. The pene- 
 trating glance, that was directed at times at the 
 sun-burnt countenance of the narrator, returned 
 to a vessel of ancient claret that stood not idly 
 before him ; but was quickly called away again 
 by sweet mention of luxuries, whose name had 
 not till then reached his ear. 
 
 " And you say, Sir," he broke in at last, 
 " that a bottle of the yellow rich wine, that 
 grows in those lands, is worth a pipe of Bour- 
 deaux ?'' 
 
 •' Ay," said the other, " and far more gene- 
 rous: it warms the blood, and leads on to darins; 
 deeds; whereas the beverage you are so busy 
 discussing, is a thin, cold element. Give me the 
 Madeira, that sparkles in the cup; it's a drink 
 for monarch s, and would add ten years to your 
 life, my old friend." 
 
 " Speak with more reverence, Sir, I beg," re- 
 plied the senior, in a fume, closing one of his 
 dark grey eyes at the same moment, and meet- 
 ing with the concentrated force of the other the 
 E 2
 
 76 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 surprised look of the youth ; " the blood of the 
 Granvilles is wont to be treated with greater 
 worship than in such light words by the stran- 
 ger and unknown man." 
 
 " If you say the blood of that ancient house 
 is in your veins, there 's little outward sign or 
 token of it," said the other. " I like to see the 
 man that carries," slightly raising his own hand- 
 some countenance, " his right to reverence in 
 a clear eye and open brow ; and who has ranged 
 the world, instead of burrowing, live-long, like 
 a rabbit in his hole." 
 
 " Do you call the ancient hold of the Tren- 
 lyons a hole ?"*' rejoined the other, completely 
 roused from his usual apathetic manner. " Its 
 walls stood when not another was raised hard 
 by, save the church ; it had a park too, a small 
 one, and fallow deer ; and many a lord of Cor- 
 bel) has dined off a fat haunch in the old hall, 
 when the Towners were in their pride and 
 power." 
 
 " It 's e'en so," said the landlady ; " it 's
 
 STRA.TTON HILL. 77 
 
 Master Arthur ye are speakin' to : ye ken the 
 old castle of Tintayel, where the Prince by- 
 gone, that so many marvels are said about, was 
 born ; the gentleman is one of his keene (rela- 
 tions) far away removed, a few hundred year 
 or so."" 
 
 " Is that the case ?" replied the young man, 
 with a smile ; " then, by St. Neot ! my lips have 
 done foul wrong, and I crave pardon with all my 
 heart. I know the old castle well ; it 's many 
 a long year agone since my boat has coasted 
 along beneath the bold precipice on which it 
 stands, and I have thought what a pity such 
 decay should have come over it: king, baron, 
 and squire, as they say, all gone and forgotten ; 
 but not all, if one descendant is."" 
 
 " Not all, as you truly observe," said his 
 elder companion, thoroughly reconciled, and his 
 right hand lifted, in the energy of the moment, 
 from the neck of the bottle — " one still sur- 
 vives. And you know the castle where the feet 
 of the royal Arthur have trod. Every stone
 
 78 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 there, young man, is precious beyond the mines 
 of Peru, as you call it ; and the very weeds give 
 forth an odour more welcome to me than the 
 rich spices you talk about, which are rare and 
 savoury, no doubt. — Have ye brought any with 
 ye home ?" 
 
 " Store, my good master, store; and better 
 things by far. And to prove my words, we 11 
 e'en drink to the old place, or rather castle, in 
 a flask of the choice Madeira I spoke of; 
 'twill make the blood of all your ancestors come 
 into your cheeks, and keep off the rough hand 
 of Time, that he mayn't lay ye among them 
 for many a long year to come. They sleep 
 cold, Master Trenlyon, — they sleep cold beneath 
 every wind of heaven, and lash of the sea; 
 and the nettle and the hemlock are around their 
 tombs." 
 
 He rose from the table, and soon produced 
 from an adjoining apartment a large bottle, 
 whose amber hue, as it caught the glance of 
 the flame, might have tempted St. Neot to 
 forget his devotion to the pure element.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 79 
 
 The expressive organ of the Squire actually 
 laughed in his head at the sight ; for one mo- 
 ment, liter and Merlin were all alike forgotten, 
 who, in the da3^s of their glory, had never such 
 nectar placed before them ; his hands, as was 
 his wont in the plenitude of satisfaction, were 
 thrust into the band that confined his nether 
 garments ; and he gave way to a fit of musing, — 
 whether, by the workings of his really fine 
 forehead, it was on deep and ancient things, 
 could not decidedly be guessed ; but he was 
 startled by the sound of the rich wine gurgling 
 into the goblet beside him. 
 
 "Here's to the last successor of the lords of 
 Tintayel," said the traveller, raising the cup to 
 his lips. 
 
 "Ay, ay," said the senior, his marble features 
 rubied high by the generous liquor; " those 
 were glorious times. — You have seen the caverns 
 in the rocks beneath the walls. When the con- 
 course of knights, and lords, and armed men 
 that came to pay court to the renowned king, 
 were too many for the castle rooms to hold,
 
 80 STRA.TTON HILL. 
 
 they lodged them in these caverns. Armour 
 has been found there, urns, and rings of gold 
 too. Many a long hour have I sat and watched 
 there, but heard nought save the waters be- 
 neath, and the cry of the curlews, and then I 
 thought of the feasts and banquetings that 
 were held there of old, 
 
 * When the knights of Trenlyon 
 All in gilded armour shone.' 
 
 " But what a pity such a race must so soon 
 expire !" said the youth : " you are the last 
 squire, the very cable end, as we may say — the 
 ultima thuU, as Drake said when we first saw 
 Cape Horn, — of the old and noble line ; and you 
 leave no successor, and grey hairs are on your 
 head ; the old sea-beat walls of Tintayel are 
 not more hopeless — by this yellow goblet, the 
 very name will perish, and be no more heard 
 of!" 
 
 " It will so, Stephen, — it will so,"" said the 
 hostess ; '' I 've often tould him so, and coun- 
 selled to take a wife, and keep the name up :
 
 STRATTON HILL. 81 
 
 and not be like the old yew-tree afore the 
 church porch, all lonely and left, the very 
 branches peeHn' day after day, and the birds 
 o' the air mocking the thin and dyin' leaves. 
 When he's laid in the grave, who'll weep and 
 wail for the last o' the family, or care if he 
 sleeps aniest the old tombs under the castle 
 walls, or upon the downs with the fern for a 
 shroud ?" 
 
 All eyes were turned on him who was the 
 object of the last sentences ; even Betsy, roused 
 by the force of the appeal, lifted hers for a 
 moment from her handywork, to fix their mild 
 gaze on his person. 
 
 Wholly discomfited,— in part by the united 
 attack made on his past life and future pros- 
 pects, and in part by the self-accusing thoughts 
 that rose, spite of himself, in rapid succession, — 
 Trenlyon rechned his form on the back, or 
 rather the corner of the settle, his look bent 
 sadly yet straightly before him, his lips closed, 
 and his hands gently clasped. 
 £ 5
 
 82 STRATTON HILL 
 
 No more came the golden dreams of past as 
 well as future splendour in castle and in hall ; 
 no more the proud visions of his immortal an- 
 cestry ; but the sad desolation of the house, the 
 extinction of the name, fell with sweeping power 
 on his spirits. As the dying embers on the 
 hearth grew paler, the shades of Gothlois 
 Arthur, and she herself, the lovely but faith- 
 less Igerna, passed before his mental eye, and 
 seemed to upbraid their fallen descendant, that, 
 after a thousand ages of renown, the line was 
 at last to expire and be forgotten — ay, be as the 
 things that had never been. And he might — 
 yes, he might have prevented it : the deep sigh, 
 that issued more than once, told the secret 
 anguish and upbraiding, On the forehead 
 there was a frown that had begun to lour at 
 the insolence offered to his person ; but the 
 humbled and mortified expression of the lower 
 part of the countenance told another tale. 
 
 " You take the thing too deeply," said the 
 dame ; " to be sure, I always thoft it strange
 
 STRATTON HILL. 83 
 
 that mistress Bridget and you should ha' lived 
 like two hermits in a cave, and think so much 
 about people and gentry that are quiet and 
 gone so many years, and never about those that 
 are to come after ye. — But fill the Squire's 
 glass, and he ^11 revive." 
 
 This was done with a ready hand by the 
 }ounger guest; and as willingly, but more 
 slowly, was that of the other e'xtended to grasp, 
 and raise it to his lips. Deep and harrowing 
 must the sorrow be that will not recoil, at 
 least for a time, before the influence of generous 
 wine : the features grew brighter, and the re- 
 cumbent head raised itself from the breast on 
 which it had sunk ; he sent a serious yet calm 
 glance around. 
 
 *' The days that are passed can ne'er come 
 again, my friends. Tintayel cannot be raised 
 from its ruins again; not even Merlin's hand 
 could restore their splendour to the walls of my 
 ancestors. Neither can a future progeny ap- 
 pear to transmit the name of Trenlyon and Ar-
 
 84 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 thur down to other times : the hope is departed 
 that was with me as a ' meteor in my way, and 
 beneath the tent in strange lands,' as Baron Ro- 
 bert said, when dying in Hungary, upon his 
 pilgrimage to the Land of Promise. He was the 
 seventh from the present, and was son to Lady 
 Mabel." 
 
 It is singular, how far the consciousness of 
 having said a good thing, even on our own mis- 
 fortunes, will tend to reconcile us to them ! The 
 spirit of the lonely Squire revived : he cast a 
 gracious regard on the fair and youthful widow, 
 who sat near him ; perhaps, because he thought 
 they were both " cast forth companionless on 
 life's rude shore." If so, the comparison was 
 not a just one, and did more credit to his va- 
 nity than the correctness of his feeling. The 
 widow was a woman on whom men still gazed 
 with pleasure; and those who sought a mate 
 might travel the wilds and weary hills, far 
 and near, and not find one more to their 
 taste. 
 
 But the hapless descendant of TintayePs lords
 
 STRATTON HILL. 85 
 
 was in the vale of his strength and comeliness ; 
 though he brushed Time stoutly aside, he could 
 not avoid the touch of his ruthless hand, that 
 had silvered his noble forehead. 
 
 The village beauties, in spite of the firm step 
 and resolved and uplifted countenance with 
 which he approached them, might not be lured, 
 even by the lustre of his lineage, to think of 
 love. No soft and tender sentiment hovered 
 around his form or aspect ; from the latter of 
 which it seemed as if, in moments of irritation, 
 the grim knights of his ancestor's round table 
 looked forth. 
 
 The sailor's countenance glowed with pleasure 
 from a higher source, it should seem, than the 
 rich contents of the flask that stood before him ; 
 and with better hope than his more elderly 
 neighbour could ever have cherished. He talk- 
 ed faster, and his descriptions grew still more 
 florid, till he was interrupted by the loud and 
 somewhat sarcastic tone of the hostess. 
 
 " Ye go ower fast, young man, for us staid 
 and home-keepin' people to follow ye. Moun-
 
 86 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 tains of gold dust, and rivers runnin' with sil- 
 ver grains, that one can take up in the hand, as 
 you would the hurtles from the hill side. If so 
 be 'tis true, people would'n be fighting at home 
 here for the shadow o' power, when such wealth, 
 that's far sweeter, might be had for crossing 
 the seas."" 
 
 " Ay, mother, that's well said ; but the hand 
 that picks up the gold in that country is like 
 first to be red with blood. Think ye, that men 
 will let the stranger come and rifle their trea- 
 sures, and not watch night and day to defend 
 them ?" 
 
 " And if blood must be shed, let it be in a 
 far countrie, and not around one's own hearth, 
 and aneath one's own roof-tree. Would our fa- 
 thers, that's laid by the ould oaks in the church- 
 yard, ha' dreamed that their sons would draw 
 blade against each other's bosom, — one for king, 
 and the other for country ? No, no, Stephen ; 
 the liberty they talk of is an aery and un- 
 quiet thing, and won't dure like your moun-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 87 
 
 tains o' gould, if ye were ever upon them too. 
 For them a man might well risk his Ufe ; for 
 they must be fair to look at, and far fairer to 
 touch. Gould will e''en ' take wings and fly 
 away/ as 'tis said, from a fool's hand, but ne'er 
 from a wise one's. 'Tis the best and truest 
 friend, ye'U e'er find, — ay, truer and more durin' 
 than husband, wife, or child." 
 
 " Not so, mother," said the mild voice of 
 Elizabeth ; " you do not right to compare 
 riches with such ties as those : they are sel- 
 fish, and, alas ! far more durin' ; but cannot 
 warm the heart and make it happy like its own 
 best love.""* 
 
 " Warm the heart, child ! — And how long, 
 think ye, will its best love do that ? All the sum- 
 mer long, no doubt, when there's nought but 
 green leaves, and fair fruits, and skies, and all 
 is sunshine ; but when winter, (and 'twill come 
 to love too,) with its snaws and blasts, and howl- 
 in' winds, will it dure for ever.^ No, dinna dream 
 it. Look at your own warm hearth, an' the fire
 
 88 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 cracklin' louder than the storm without — is it 
 love makes it bleeze ?— and the roof-tree yon- 
 der, vvi' fleeches o' bacon hangin'' like bees in a 
 clump. Had I thoft and greeted so much 
 about the heart, when my two good men went 
 to their lang home, the ' Ivy-bush," had ne'er 
 sheltered my grey head so cannily, nor your 
 young ane either, my child." 
 
 " It's very true ; there can't be a doubt," ob- 
 served Mr. Trenlyon, labouring evidently with 
 some choice idea : " but there 's a grand differ- 
 ence in time o' life, as well as in other respects' 
 The two husbands you have lost, fell away one 
 o' them, as ye observe yourself, dame, in the 
 winter of his life, as well as love, if there was 
 ever much atween ye; and t'other by over 
 drinkin'. I kenned them well : they weren't like- 
 lie men as her husband, that died so soon after 
 marriage ; they hadn't the same clear blue eye 
 and keenlie form." 
 
 The look that was raised by the youthful 
 relict towards the speaker, at this moment,
 
 STRATTON HILL. 89 
 
 might well have infused soft and sweet impres- 
 sions into the mind of a less vain and older man. 
 
 " And who ever thoft, Squire, to hear you 
 uphold sitch a part ? And why, man, if ye can 
 talk about it in that wa}?^, — why did ye ne'er try 
 yourself that love is a bright and cheery thing 
 to begin with, like that bush o** furze just clapt 
 upon the awndyern, pitching its flame and 
 heat far over the wearie and shiverin' man, and 
 makin' every eye dance wi' joy? But w^ait a 
 while ; ay, e'en now, it sinks into a low, and 
 dreels away by inches, and the wind down the 
 chimlie whiffs aside the leavings that don't 
 warm nor glow." 
 
 " That's over hard, dame, and shall not pass 
 without question, any more than my mountains 
 of gold. You Ve seen and marked much of the 
 world, and steered your course well, but with 
 far too wary an eye and keen a hand to let the 
 heart have its own play. Had your feet been 
 where mine have passed, instead of being shut 
 up in this village, you 'd have seen the thirst of
 
 90 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 riches yield to that for a dark eye and a fond 
 spirit." 
 
 " And trow ye, young man," replied the 
 hostess, in a sharper tone, and with a wave of 
 her long hand, that was intended to be decisive, 
 " because you have wandered over far lands, 
 and taken part in wild deeds, that ye ken better 
 than one who has known the ups and downs, 
 the wailins and soughs o' life — how men will 
 work their own destruction, and slide into the 
 pit, though it be by a ladder o' silk ; and that 
 wouldna cost a trifle either, by what I gave 
 for Betsy's roquelay ? Ye know the proverb, 
 ' there's no downs without an eye, or hedge 
 without ears,' and few things or people that ha' 
 happened within these walls have scaped me. 
 You Ve wandered for small good, not to ken 
 that over a dusty bottle, or a foaming tankard, 
 men, both soul and feehn', hope and purpose, 
 are more open and unwily, than when the hour 
 o' battle is comin"*, or the spirit is stringed to 
 work its own fell wages." 
 
 " Men follow the trade of fighting now," re-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 91 
 
 plied the youth, " for the mere love of it, and 
 hatred of one another. The thirst of wealtli 
 has little to do with it ; and that of woman, that 
 I say still is the best worth hard blows, is 
 quenched in the fiercer passions. But will they 
 last, like that, think you.'' 'Tis for religion, 
 say some, which they know little of, but the 
 name ; or for the Commons, or the Crown, of 
 which they know far less, and whose weal or ill 
 will ne'er travel to these wild parts. You ne'er 
 saw such times, dame; and sure I am, you ne'er 
 foresaw them."" 
 
 " Ded I not ? ye speak like a younklin' : 
 hav''n I hearkened to the stifled murmurs by 
 nightj that came like the distant moan of the 
 sea. Men ha' feared, maybe, to speak over 
 their bottle ; even when I 've fetched up the 
 strongest and ouldest, and they were drouthy 
 and weary, and the fire burned bright, and the 
 settle at their back closed in like a net to shut 
 out the world, they woud'n speak their deep 
 thoughts ; but I ha' marked the stern, thought- 
 ful look, and the partin' whispers out o' doors
 
 92 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 have reached me. Then the pedlar''s voice oft 
 was no more cheery, nor his step as light as it 
 wont to be, and the churl sometimes stood 
 at the porch and drank, and passed without 
 shaking the dust from his feet. But the armed 
 man, ay, and of high degree, has been fain to 
 seek the shelter of the Ivy-bush ; and there was 
 a scowl upon his forehead, and he looked round 
 with a quick and fierce look. For the knight's 
 home had been harried by the Parliament peo- 
 ple, and rank and pride o"* blood were all fallln' 
 with his fallin' King ; and his spirit coud'n 
 stoop to it." 
 
 A kind of smile sat upon the speaker's face 
 at her own description, and her large eye kin- 
 dled with animation ; for her own wrestling 
 with the trials of life, and long experience of 
 them, had given a hardness to her spirit, that 
 made her look on tlie storm that was ga- 
 thering round with a feeling, little allied to 
 sympathy. 
 
 " You have somewhat of the warlock in you, 
 surely, dame," said the adventurer ; " and since
 
 STRATTON HILL. 93 
 
 you have foreseen these things so clearly, may- 
 hap you can tell what part I 'm to take in them ; 
 for, by St. Neot ! our old patron, it baffles my 
 own guess as yet." 
 
 " And why should you meddle in these fierce 
 troubles.?" said the daughter, in a tone of voice 
 that called up the brightness of hope to the 
 other's eyes ; " you have had your share of strife 
 and adventure in a distant land ; and having 
 haply been spared, do not rashly engage here 
 in what does not concern you." 
 
 '' There are thousands engaging in this 
 struggle whom it concerns as little as me,'^ he 
 replied. " Besides, I lack employment for mind 
 and body ; they have both been on too exciting 
 a field of action the last few years, to come and 
 rust idly at home. To sit down on the bench 
 without, maybe, at sunset, and talk with the 
 wise people of the village ; or saunter along the 
 headlands, and look at the small craft skim- 
 ming along in shore. I'd as soon be kept in 
 the old keep of Tintayel, or in the mines of 
 Peru, and take leave of the sun at once ; if so
 
 94 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 be he brought no change to me, but rose and 
 fell upon the same dull houses and narrow 
 lanes/' 
 
 Arthur Trenlyon would undoubtedly have 
 resented this attack on the quiet dignified life 
 he had led so long, and with so much satis- 
 faction to his own ideas; but, having been 
 supplied with the then almost novel luxury of 
 tobacco by his companion, he was at this mo- 
 ment completely enveloped in the fumes he had 
 raised, and was perfectly inattentive to aught 
 that was passing around him. From amidst 
 the dense shroud that had gathered round his 
 head, his eyes looked forth with most compla- 
 cent brightness ; his lips, closed on the beloved 
 weed, forgot to vindicate the prowess of his 
 line, either in love or war ; and the world, its 
 woes and cares, were passing from liis mental 
 vision, like the clouds that rose and curled and 
 passed away amidst the sooty and darkened 
 rafters of the ceiling. 
 
 ** You are a wanderin', and, I might say, a 
 graceless lad, Stephen, but that I deem there 's
 
 STRATTON HILL. 95 
 
 Still good in your heart," rejoined the hostess ; 
 " ne'er glory so much in what you ha' seen of 
 strange lands and marvels, and what your hand, 
 maybe, has done ; it 's a woe to your young 
 life, to have kenned so many changes. Will the 
 sole o' your foot ever have rest, think ye ? — if so, 
 why not aneath your own leu dwellen, with the 
 sound o** your own trees, and the sight o' your 
 meadow afore the door ? — you '11 ne'er find 
 others sweeter." 
 
 " It may be so, and your words sound like 
 truth," said the other thoughtfully ; " but it 's 
 hard to sit down and rest^ and take to some 
 dull calling, maybe, in these stirring times too. 
 " I could ne'er take pleasure by day, or sleep 
 quiet at night, when such a stake was playing 
 for around me." 
 
 " You had better, young man, — you had 
 better, though your eyes ken no slumber, or 
 your soul ken no rest. The foughten field, 
 men say, is drear to look upon; but t'vvill be far 
 drearer when destruction comes inside the door, 
 even to the chimlie neuk and the sanded par-
 
 96 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 lour ; when men glare upon each other from 
 the cosie settle or arm-chair — upon those of 
 their own keene too ; and long to drench the 
 blade, yet red from the field, in the blood they 
 belonged to. A strife like this is not like the 
 strife o' nations." 
 
 " I '11 hearken no more to your warnings," 
 said the other ; " they're enough to make a man 
 forego every purpose of his soul, whether for 
 weal or woe. Do you think that Cortez would 
 e'er have taken the great king from his throne, 
 a low man as he was too, and made gold and 
 silver hke the stones of the streets, if he had 
 loved his own home so dearly, or feared to shed 
 blood in war ? But you never heard of his 
 name — how should you in this place? But 
 it grows late ; the fire burns low ; and the last 
 drop of the good wine is out, as is the good 
 gentleman's pipe too." 
 
 " 'Tis that smoky harb and the strange wine 
 have kept him to sitch an hour; he's always 
 in his home afore this ; for his hours, as one 
 may say, go like the church bell ; and well
 
 STRATTON HILL. 97 
 
 I ken, Mistress Bridget, his sister wUl fume 
 and fret for this night's work." 
 
 He who was thus spoken of, rose slowly from 
 his seat at the intimation, yet with something 
 of a discomposed look ; for the lapse of time, 
 that had escaped attention in the heat of the 
 discourse, now became evident to all. He drew 
 his cloak closely round his neck, bowed with a 
 gracious look to the younger female, with a 
 more dignified one to the rest of the party, and 
 with a quick step withdrew to his own dwelHng. 
 The young man seemed to be disposed to linger 
 yet a while over the darkening hearth, and 
 sweeten with converse the dead hours, as they 
 might be called, of the night, for not a sound 
 was heard without the walls of the hostel. This 
 desire was effectually obstructed by the mis- 
 tress, who reminded him in a sharp tone that 
 it was high time for all honest folk to be a-bed, 
 pointing, at the same time, to a small rush-light 
 that burned on an adjoining table. Then loud- 
 ly and clearly 'gan the despotic voice of the 
 dame to ring through the kitchen and hall, as, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 emerging her rather tall figure from the ancient 
 and massive oaken chair, she cast a keen 
 glance around. " Deborah, ye giftless mal- 
 lin, d'ye na see the shape (disorder) the Squire 
 ha' made with that outlandish plant 'pon the 
 planked floor, that was fresh sanded and tided 
 afore sunrise ? Would he ha' done the like in 
 his own parlour? that's no better looked after, or 
 tidier, whatever his sister may say, the carkin' 
 ould body ; that marvels, she says, what he can 
 find, that's come o' such race, in such a place 
 as the Ivy-bush. The smoky rafter, rest us 
 sure," with an uplifted and complacent look, 
 ** is a strong one and well upheld ; others may 
 be plastered and in stone houses, and rooms 
 garnissed wi' wanescot, but they are fallin', — 
 ay, it's a sinkin' house, knights and princes, and 
 warlocks and Druids too, for what I ken. — 
 Ilichie, what sound is that I hear outside ? it's 
 no horse's tramp o' this drear night, and so late; 
 nor the dull bang of the wave ; it 's the great 
 yard gate that's left open, and wizzing to and 
 fro in the wind, you trouless man, that would
 
 STRATTON HILL. 99 
 
 dream and doze upon a rick 0"* furze, that was 
 afire around ye." Thus saying, and with a few 
 muttered complaints, or rather reflections, that 
 kept time with her retreating footsteps, the mis- 
 tress of the Ivy-bush withdrew to steep her ma- 
 nifold cares and designs in forgetfulness. 
 
 F 2
 
 100 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ** In the cathedral's gloom I pass'd my time. 
 Much in devotion, much in thought sublime ; 
 There oft I paced the aisles, and watch'd the glow 
 Of the sun setting on the stones below.'' 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 It was yet an hour ere sunset, and the fading 
 beams threw their yellow and cloudless hue on 
 bank and stream, on wood and lawn, which 
 spread around the venerable] church and Gothic 
 towers of St. Germain's. Composed and beau- 
 tiful as was the scene, it did not seem that any 
 of the tenants of the fifty or sixty dwellings, 
 that rose among the trees hard by, and formed 
 the village of the same name, were very suscep- 
 tible, for scarcely a being was visible. The
 
 STRATTON HILL. 101 
 
 5ove of picturesque beauty is a thing of modern 
 growth, at least in the territory that is now before 
 us, where the baron, whose dark tower looked 
 forth on ocean and valley, and the wealthy yeo- 
 man, his mansion almost embedded amidst his 
 fat lands, felt it as little as the beeves that grazed, 
 or the game that ran wild there. 
 
 There was certainly an exception to this ge- 
 neral want of taste in the persons of two indivi- 
 duals who walked slowly along the edge of the 
 lake, an " old man and stricken in years," with a 
 young and fair woman. 
 
 The former leaned on his staff with one hand, 
 while the other was locked in the arm of his 
 daughter, who seemed to measure her light and 
 elastic step to his feebleness. His eye was 
 chiefly bent on the ground, from which it was 
 at times withdrawn, as her voice invited him to 
 regard some surrounding object, while her free 
 glance roamed restlessly over wood and steep. 
 The sheet of water, on whose bank their steps 
 passed, was formed by the junction of the rivers 
 .-j^, Teidi and Lynher ; the former of which was
 
 102 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 navigable. A few barks were seen passing up 
 and down the stream, their white sails scarcely 
 moved by the declining breeze. 
 
 " A fine evening this," said the elder person- 
 age, " a very fine evening, and the mildness of 
 the air is remarkable at this time of the year.'' 
 
 '* It is a most lovely one," replied the other ; 
 '* and is the more welcome, as we could hardly 
 look for it, so close on the drear winter months ; 
 for the fresh leaves on the trees seem waiting 
 for the first blast to part them." 
 
 *' Yes, it will be so : — one season goes and 
 another comes ; sunshine and storm, heat and 
 snow. But do you observe, child, the top of 
 that Gothic tower to the right ? There are three 
 stones unhappily dislodged from it, close to the 
 battlement; what would the good bishop, St. 
 Germaine, of Auxerre, have said, to whom it 
 was dedicated } Three square stones ; they were 
 carved with the cross and mitre, and the arms of 
 Auxerre beneath." 
 
 " Do you mean the chasm on which the
 
 STRATTON HILL. 103 
 
 golden light is just now resting? Yes, it is very 
 distinct ; and was caused, I believe, by the high 
 wind of last December, that sunk more than one 
 bark in the river, and tore up some of the finest 
 trees by the roots." 
 
 " Don't talk of trees ; that Gothic tower of 
 St. Germain's is the rarest, as well as most an- 
 cient piece of building in the county. It was 
 built, my love, by Athelstan, and afterwards it 
 was well endowed by Canute. What a noble 
 circular sweep the arch of the gateway beneath 
 has ! and the four pillars on each side, with their 
 fine mouldings and foliage. Then the pediment 
 over the arch, with a cross at the top. One 
 might stand there from sunrise to set, and never 
 feel tired." 
 
 " You have sometimes done nearly as much. 
 Sir ; and I fancy at times I could linger there 
 as long, when the tower flings its long shadow 
 in the sun, and not a footstep is heard to pass 
 near." 
 
 " Ah, that tower ! One of the windows,
 
 104 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 indeed, is almost hid by the ivy, that defacer 
 of antiquity ; though you, child, look upon it 
 as a beauty, ridiculously enough." 
 
 " I do not love to see antiquity bare, and ex- 
 posed to all the fury of heaven — a dark shroud 
 of foliage looks as graceful on it as grey hairs 
 do to the aged. Do you not think the ancient 
 turret of Stowe is far more fine and impressive 
 for the rich mantle that has clothed it, they say, 
 for ages ?" 
 
 " That is a rare and venerable pile; it was 
 built by Richard de Granville, in the reign of 
 the second Henry : he was a pious and aged 
 man, and a good Catholic ; and died far away, 
 when journeying with the pilgrim's staff and 
 scallop along the plains of Hungary. He gave 
 that Norman character to the edifice, for which 
 it is justly admired, as more massive and im- 
 posing than the modern innovations and lighter 
 style." 
 
 " But is it not a pity," said the lady, " that 
 the monastery that adjoined the cathedral is 
 suppressed ? How impressive they must have
 
 STRATTON HILL. 105 
 
 Stood, side by side, amidst the deep wood ! for 
 there were few houses on the spot then. I 
 often fancy at evening, when passing by, that I 
 hear the convent bell sending its solemn sounds 
 along the lake, and the deep chanting of the 
 monks mingling with the plash of the waters. — 
 You say they were entirely dispersed ?" 
 
 " They were ; and I have often heard my fa- 
 ther say it was a sad scene : it was a dark hour, 
 Eleanor, for the land. Since those excellent 
 bishops, St. Germaine and St. Lupus of Troy, 
 came here in 429, when the priory was found- 
 ed, it stood in prosperity and peace, with a 
 sufficient income, and enough, ay, more than 
 enough, of this world's comforts, a full thou- 
 sand years." 
 
 " What a drear change," she replied, " for 
 the inmates of the convent, to quit their woods 
 and noble home for ever ! The tombs also of so 
 many generations of fathers who died there, 
 seem now like those of the stranger; they are 
 covered with weeds, and half hid by the thistle 
 and fern. The last time I was there, it was a 
 F 5
 
 106 STRATTON HILL. * 
 
 cloudy day, and the wind blew wildly around 
 the deserted place." 
 
 " But there is one tomb at least," was the an- 
 swer, " in the cathedral wall, with a mitred figure 
 carved above ; and hard by are the names of the 
 illustrious prelates in due order, who had entire 
 sway over the church in the province, ere it 
 was made shipwreck of. — Would that we had 
 lived in those days, Eleanor ! you might then 
 have been abbess of some well-endowed convent, 
 as your great aunt was, who died in the odour 
 of a long life of penance and sanctity." 
 
 She to whom this remark was addressed, 
 looked as if the situation would not have been 
 one she would have rushed to seek ; there was 
 too much of power in that face and form, over 
 the thoughts of others without the walls of a 
 convent, to render her very desirous of trying 
 their influence within. 
 
 *' The sun is now set," she said ; " his last 
 beams have long passed from the pinnacles of 
 the tower and the loftiest trees on the hill. 
 The air from the lake is chill and damp, and
 
 STRATTON HILL. 107 
 
 my sister will wait impatiently for our return, 
 for you are not used to be out at so late an 
 hour." 
 
 Her companion acquiesced, and they turned 
 from the water-side, already freshened by the 
 rising breeze ; and soon entered the lawn that 
 led to their home. 
 
 This home was situated on an eminence not 
 far from the village, and could not be called a 
 plain or handsome, but rather a stately dwell- 
 ing, for it was formerly the episcopal palace of 
 St. Germain's. The present orner would have 
 shrunk from inhabiting a place so sacred, and 
 would have deemed it little better than a piece 
 of sacrilege, had he not been urged by the 
 strong desire to preserve it from insult and 
 dilapidation. To effect this purpose, he had 
 purchased it from the interested hands into 
 which it had fallen, and had quitted his own resi- 
 dence long since, for that afforded by the epis- 
 copal roof. It was too spacious for the number 
 of its present inmates: the many apartments were 
 no longer filled by priestly dependents or re-
 
 108 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 tainers; the wandering knight or noble, and the 
 weary pilgrim, came not there, as of yore, to 
 share the hospitality as well as luxury of the 
 dwelling. Externally, in spite of the pains be- 
 stowed to baffle the footsteps of Time, it was 
 evidently following slowly, yet surely, the fate of 
 the ruined cathedral. No outlay or repairs at- 
 tendant on such a residence, (and these were 
 neither ** few or far between,") could materially 
 damp the exquisite pleasure the present pro- 
 prietor derived from going down the vale of 
 life under such a roof. The warm attachment 
 to that " ancient faith" had a considerable 
 share in producing this state of feeling, as well 
 as the reflection, that his feet paced every day 
 the same halls that had been trodden by the 
 steps of the many illustrious heads and rulers 
 of the cliurch ; the very breath of whose learn- 
 ing and piety seemed still to hover round the 
 walls and ceiling of each decaying apartment. 
 The only distinctive mark that attached to the 
 building, more than to other ancient chateaus, 
 were the armorial bearings of the bishop, sur-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 109 
 
 mounted by the cross and mitre, carved in 
 stone over the dark and heavy gateway. Nei- 
 ther elegance nor sumptuousness had perhaps 
 ever reigned in the mansion, or the proprietor, 
 into whose hands the church domains fell at the 
 time of the Reformation, would hardly have 
 turned the priory, the habitation of the monks, 
 into a fair and goodly edifice, and utterly 
 slighted the episcopal dwelling. 
 
 Had St. Germaine himself sought shelter or 
 lodging beneath the roof, once reared under his 
 own eyes, he could not have said, sacrilegious 
 hands have been here, — so rigidly, so inviolably 
 had each fragment of priestly use or ornament, 
 each article of faded furniture, each painting on 
 the darkened walls, been preserved and watched 
 over. 
 
 Few trees stood near : the deep and lovely 
 woods which filled the vale below, and circled 
 like a rampart round the cathedral and its 
 lofty towers, did not climb the hill. The want 
 of shade around the edifice, as well as shelter 
 from the often bleak easterly winds, was atoned
 
 110 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 for by the fine and extensive view they com- 
 manded. This view comprised the windings 
 of the river Lynher, and the small lakes form- 
 ed by the meeting of this and other streams, 
 along whose course, barks were often passing. 
 The dark and dreary wilds of Dartmoor were 
 in the distance; while the lofty hills, digni- 
 fied by the natives with the name of moun- 
 tains, of Hengston and Brownwilly, rose far 
 and boldly to the west. 
 
 The house from which the present family 
 was descended, was a very ancient one ; the 
 ruins of the mansion of Sir Nicholas Dawnay, 
 in which he resided in the reign of Edward 
 the First, and the venerable parish-church of 
 Sheviock, erected at his expense, bespeak his 
 opulence and liberality. In the southern aisle 
 of this church, still exists a sumptuous monu- 
 ment, with the full-length statues of Sir Ed- 
 ward Courtenay, son of the Earl of Devon, 
 and Emmeline Dawnay, his wife; the knight 
 in plate armour, and the lady in the dress of 
 Edward's time. The present branch of the
 
 STRATTON HILL. Ill 
 
 family had long lived in high esteem and tran- 
 quillity in this neighbourhood, with here and 
 there some thorns sown in their path, on ac- 
 count of the gradual decay of the faith of 
 Rome, to which they retained an inviolable 
 adherence. The tenants of the mansion con- 
 sisted of Mr. Dawnay and his two daughters, 
 one of whom had accompanied him in this 
 evening's ramble. The old man had mused 
 sometimes in sadness on his want of a son ; 
 but for many years, and particularly since 
 the death of bis wife, the unchanging kind- 
 ness and affection of his daughters had made 
 him banish every repining thought, in the 
 delightful consciousness that his gray hairs 
 were going down into the grave in peace. 
 His strong attachment to monastic ruins was 
 perhaps his richest resource: there was hard- 
 ly a fragment of a priory, chapel, or oratory 
 in the province, on whose former glory and 
 territory he had not thrown, in his opinion, 
 the clearest light. In truth, his sentiments 
 on all such subjects were willingly submitted
 
 112 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 to and reverenced by his neighbours ; and he 
 had not the misery of seeing any rival system 
 opposed to his own. 
 
 On returning from their distant ramble, Mr. 
 Dawnay and his favourite companion found 
 that the last light of day had faded from 
 their path, ere they reached the gate of their 
 dwelHng. They were received, on entering, 
 by the warm greeting of the other sister, 
 mingled with some censure at the unusual 
 lateness of the hour. 
 
 " You know. Sir," slie said, " that when 
 the top of Brown willy becomes dark in the 
 distance, your feet are rarely out ; and the 
 dews fall now so early and heavily, that it 
 is not safe for you to be wandering on the 
 green turf.^' 
 
 " It was the beauty of the evening, Ca- 
 therine, that tempted us to exceed our usual 
 limits. The first days of spring are too wel- 
 come to be slighted ; and of all the year, you 
 know, they are my favourite ones. — I never 
 saw the Gothic towers of the cathedral look
 
 STRATTON HILL. Il5 
 
 finer than they did two hours since," con- 
 tinued the father. *' Years seem to add fresh 
 grace to them, — that sort of neglected, yet 
 proud majesty, that they never probably 
 had in the day of their prosperity. — But 
 let us enter the parlour, and see whether a 
 warm hearth and good cheer are to be found 
 there. Time was, they overflowed to all co- 
 mers. Good Prior Seymour, who was the 
 last, when taking his evening refection at my 
 father's, used to say, ' plain fare, with a con- 
 tented heart, was better than a banquet' ; but 
 that 's not every one's notion." 
 
 They now entered the apartment in which 
 the daily repasts were taken, whose smooth 
 and finely polished floor of wood was almost 
 insecure to the foot. The heavy arched win- 
 dows, larger than in most private houses, 
 gave ample Hght, which was the more neces- 
 sary fromthe dark wainscoting of the walls. 
 These, and the ceiling also, had a very an- 
 tique as well as imposing appearance, from 
 the somewhat strange and massive carving
 
 114 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 that adorned them, chiefly illustrative of Scrip- 
 tural subjects. The apartment had been the 
 good bishop's refectory, who probably wished 
 to keep higher themes in his view, at the 
 hour that the senses were wont to be in- 
 dulged. A large and still undecayed paint- 
 ing of St. Anthony in the Desert, over the 
 chimney, seemed to be a proof of this; yet 
 even his uplifted hand and stern eye would 
 have failed to keep terrestrial things out of 
 the thoughts of the spectators, had their looks 
 rested on the group now seated at the table. 
 On each side of the heavy and aged chair, 
 that had once served many a spiritual lord, 
 sat a fair female. Their figures and coun. 
 tenances bore a strong resemblance to each 
 other ; the former being about the middle 
 height, with the same fine proportion and ease 
 and grace of movement. A stranger, who 
 for the first time listened to the voices of the 
 sisters, and gazed on their features, on which 
 the light from the tapers was now thrown, 
 would have said they were twin beings, be-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 115 
 
 tween whom nature, as well as education, had 
 left scarcely a shade of difference. The 
 minds, however, and habits of feeling, as 
 well as the expression of the countenances, if 
 closely observed, were as widely apart as possi- 
 ble. The younger was a devoted Catholic, for 
 her family had ever been of that faith ; her 
 reading, scanty as it was, had been given chiefly 
 to works of devotion, or of knightly story, and 
 chivalrous achievement, in the chronicles of 
 France, as well as of her own country. The 
 impassioned recollections thus created, were, 
 she saw with joy, about to be realized in the 
 stern contest that had now broken out ; in 
 which the brave, the young, the illustrious, 
 both in name and descent, had all embarked 
 hand and heart in what, in her eye, was a 
 sacred cause, — the defence of oppressed and 
 insulted royalty. 
 
 She watched the strife with a breathless in- 
 terest, that even surprised herself, and was ut- 
 terly at variance with the quiet she affected. 
 Visits to the neighbouring cottages sometimes
 
 116 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 filled up her hours ; and the poor and friendless 
 had blessed the lady's form, as if it were that 
 of a ministering angel. Yet, had an armed 
 knight met her path on her return, his rich ar- 
 mour, worn and bloody, his features and accent 
 flushed with victory in some recent achieve- 
 ment, her spirit would have owned a higher joy 
 than the rehefof the wretched had given. Per- 
 haps it was the blood of one of her ancestors, 
 Reginald Dawnay, a renowned knight in field and 
 tournay, that circled in her veins, and warred 
 with the calmer tide that led only to kind and 
 gentle things. The countenance was in unison 
 with the soul : in the full dark eye there was a 
 repose, a mildness, and, at times, a melancholy 
 expression ; it was only at intervals it was quick 
 and hurried, and then a light flashed from it, 
 that would have roused the armed man to 
 snatch fame at any price. 
 
 Her sister, elder a year only, was a being of 
 a different order ; one that a man would have 
 chosen to be his companion through the world, to 
 have shared his perils, and sweetened his every
 
 STRATTON HILL. 117 
 
 joy. She would have drawn that joy from the bo- 
 som of misfortune ; for darkness or misery could 
 not dwell with the spirit of him who was loved 
 by Catherine Dawnay. In spite of the prejudice 
 of ages, and the example of a long line ofances- 
 try, she had given the preference, if the expres- 
 sion may be used, to the Protestant faith above 
 her own. This was not the course a light or 
 ordinary mind could have taken ; the hold which 
 the sentiments of her family possessed on her at- 
 tachment, though less strong than on that of 
 her sister, would in most cases have been suffi- 
 cient to defend them from innovation; but that 
 innovation had come slowl}^ and gently, and 
 she had the address, as well as the affection, 
 to conceal it from her father's knowledge, 
 whose grief at the circumstance would have 
 been as intense, probably, as if the cathedral 
 and its beloved towers had been suddenly 
 levelled with the dust. Eleanor was the old 
 man's favourite ; for she loved like himself the 
 walk to the ruin, and the deep woods that rose 
 round the half-sunken walls they had once
 
 118 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 shaded. To zealous Catholics ; to those who 
 beheld the bent form, white locks, and eager 
 glance of the elder, wandering amidst the re- 
 vered remains of their priory, it seemed that 
 the exiled prelate had risen again to mark and 
 mourn over the places of his former sway, at- 
 tended by some youthful saintess, whose fixed 
 and earnest look, pale countenance, and silent 
 footstep invested her, by the faihng twilight, 
 with more of the qualities of another world 
 than of this. She was of a retired and pensive 
 cast of mind, loving the stillness and beauty 
 of her own woods and waters, more than the 
 liveliest circles. Catherine, of a gayer mood, 
 sought society more, in which she was greatly 
 admired for her wit and sprightly conversation ; 
 though they did not spare at times the weak- 
 nesses of others. 
 
 Such was the group that was now seated gaily 
 at the table around the evening repast. The hour 
 at which this was taken was somewhat later than 
 usual; it was light yet choice, for the master of 
 the family was a little of a hon vivant. " While
 
 STRATTON HJLL. 119 
 
 we are in luxury," said Mr. Dawnay, casting 
 a gratified look at the viands, " his Majesty pro- 
 bably has an humble roof and coarse cheer for 
 his portion. The hands of evil men are strong 
 against him ; and the altar — I mean that which 
 now is — will go down with the throne. The 
 very remains too, Eleanor, — the walls, cloisters 
 and churches that Time has spared, will be le- 
 velled by the hands of these ruthless Repub- 
 licans." 
 
 " I cannot believe," she replied, "that they 
 will carry their enthusiasm, or rather madness, 
 so far : such wanton destruction could not aid 
 their cause, which is already stained with too 
 many brutal deeds." 
 
 " They have done these deeds though, in 
 their blind folly," he replied, " on more than 
 one occasion. If they have ravaged more lord- 
 ly places, will they spare the walls of St. Ger- 
 main's ? They will look upon it as a hold of the 
 author of evil, as a stain upon the land, and a 
 tower of refuge for heathenism and idolatry to 
 creep into and make themselves strong."
 
 ISO STRATTON HILL. 
 
 " I have no fears for the still goodly towers," 
 said Catherine, " save it is to see cannon plant- 
 ed within the arches, and its massive proportions 
 and spacious interior turned into a place of 
 defence. The forces of the Parliament are evil 
 enough disposed ; but the conduct of their 
 leaders has hitherto been marked more by policy 
 and worldly prudence than by blind zeal." 
 
 " St. Benedict preserve us," he said, " from 
 ever seeing our peaceful neighbourhood turned 
 into a place of war ! I 'd rather these eyes 
 might take their last look of the world, ere 
 the scene they have loved so dearly to gaze 
 on was defaced and degraded by the outrages 
 of these lawless men." 
 
 " There can be little danger of either surely," 
 rejoined the youngest daughter, " when we 
 think of the forces that are assembling for the 
 defence of the province, and the leaders that 
 are chosen. There is the noble Sir Beville, and 
 Berkeley, and Trevanion :" here a deep blush, 
 in spite of all her efforts, came over her pale 
 features. '
 
 STRATTON HILL. 121 
 
 " They are men of note and experience, no 
 doubt," he answered, " save the latter, who is 
 rather too young to have made his essay in war. 
 — Alas ! how many will make their first and 
 only one in this unhappy contest, and stake life 
 and fortune on the issue ! The ancient and 
 holy faith of the land fell almost without a 
 blow : men saw the saints and martyrs they had 
 loved and adored torn from their shrines, and 
 who lifted a hand in their defence, or to re- 
 venge the insults offered them ? Now the ve- 
 riest churl glories in being roused to feel an in- 
 terest ; the most abject peasant talks and acts as 
 if the cause was to him the first and dearest 
 on earth." 
 
 " Perhaps it in part is because men 
 think they understand the one, and that the 
 other is shrouded in sacredness and mystery," 
 said the elder sister. " The poorest cottager 
 begins to comprehend the difference between 
 freedom and oppression : he is told that the 
 burdens of the Crown are grievous; he feels 
 that they are heavy to be borne ; — and the state 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 of things held out, though mistakenly, as a 
 reward for his revolt, is to his view like the 
 land of Utopia, that you admire so much, 
 Eleanor, and would fain believe it existed." 
 
 The latter was roused by these words from 
 a momentary reverie, in which the war and 
 its chances were flitting across her fancy. 
 
 " The land of Utopia," she replied, " More's 
 beautiful fiction, that more resembles reality, or 
 what the world should be, and perhaps might 
 be — what has it to do with the present state of 
 things, in which all around us appears to be 
 changing? But a few years past, the Pontiff's 
 rule was broken for ever; the King was the 
 head of the Church, and all homage, temporal 
 and spiritual, was paid him ; now they cast 
 him off from being monarch, and, not content 
 with that, are setting up a new faith in place 
 of the former. It is a land of change : better 
 to exist at once in a rea*lm of fiction, than to 
 be where the thrones of yesterday are but sha- 
 dows to-day." 
 
 " Well spoken, my child, and most justly,"
 
 STRATTON HILL. 1^ 
 
 said the old man, with an eye sparkHng with 
 pleasure. " The empire of ages, as it may 
 be called, cannot be overthrovn so easily; and 
 the sanctuary trodden under foot, will perhaps 
 rise again.'' 
 
 o 2
 
 124 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ^' And the bright tints of early day 
 
 Were glimmering through the ivy spray. 
 
 Where hermit, wandering from his cell. 
 
 His rosary might love to tell." 
 
 Scott. 
 
 The ensuing day came lovelier than the pre- 
 ceding on the glades and lawns that spread 
 around the faded cathedral and fading palace of 
 St. Germain's. Nobly rose the former amidst 
 its deep and lofty woods, that shaded the 
 dark walls from the fierce glare that rested on 
 bank, stream, and cottage : beautifully did the 
 sunbeams, that pierced amidst the moveless 
 branches, fall through the empty arches on 
 the tombs, crosses, and scattered relics of the 
 area within. Surely, had the people who in
 
 STRATTON HILL. 125 
 
 ancient times bowed down to stocks and stones, 
 ever beheld a magnificent ruin, they had knelt 
 on the sands and rocks around. Could the 
 race of Egypt, who hewed out enormous sta- 
 tues, have seen how poor and mean their bro- 
 ken forms would in a few ages appear, and 
 how sublime in decay their glorious temples ; — 
 how like the dwelling-places of gods they stand 
 in the desert ! so still, so awful, so eternal ! — they 
 would have reverenced, like the Israelites, the 
 tabernacles of their own hands, and trembled 
 to enter their portals. Never are the works of 
 men's hands so imposing as when time has 
 shorn their freshness and splendour, but left 
 entire the majesty of their proportions, with 
 here and there many a fragment of exquisite 
 beauty ; when the voice and the footsteps of 
 man alike are fled, and the desert has come 
 around and claimed them for her own. Then 
 does the stranger, making his painful way 
 through waves of sand, gaze with a breath- 
 less admiration, that while palace and garden, 
 forest and field, have disappeared before the
 
 126 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 ravages of Nature, the long flights of columns 
 still rise round rifled edifice and altar, in proud 
 and beautiful array, like eternal guardians of 
 the place, that the rush of years may never 
 break asunder. And a similar, though far 
 fainter impression was made on the spectator 
 by the venerable remains of the deserted ca- 
 thedral, the former seat of the church's em- 
 pire in the province. And Mr. Dawnay might 
 well be pardoned the enthusiastic feelings with 
 which he always regarded them ; in fact, had 
 they been composed of the same material as the 
 precious palace of Noureddin, no miser could 
 have hung over them with more intense satis- 
 faction. The hand of devastation had spared 
 a few of the revered appendages of the place ; 
 not aware, perhaps, of their exquisite value in 
 the eyes of the few votaries that remained. 
 Within a deep niche of the interior wall, not far 
 from the gateway, still stood and smiled a small 
 image, in white marble, of the good St. Etha, 
 or St. Teath, as it was more vulgarly called, to 
 whom a collegiate church of some note in the
 
 STRATTON HILL. 127 
 
 neighbourhood had been dedicated. Here a pas- 
 senger was sometimes seen to enter and pause, 
 and pay his devotions before the slighted and 
 almost forgotten relic. The torrent of the 
 Reformation had swept away the mass of the 
 adherents of the fallen faith, and among the 
 few families who still preserved their attachment 
 to it undiminished, was the noble one of Arun- 
 del, and two or three others, who, though of 
 less rank, were affluent and well connected. To 
 the latter belonged the individual who was now 
 silently kneeling before the half-shrouded figure, 
 around whose head the ivy had gathered. The 
 form of Eleanor Dawnay could not be mis- 
 taken : the elegance of its proportion and at- 
 titude ; the pale-coloured shawl that hung 
 loosely behind, leaving part of the neck, and 
 the raven ringlets that sported on it, exposed. 
 St. Etha had been made what might be called 
 her guardian saint, or patroness, by her mo- 
 ther. It is said, that companionship in ad- 
 versity knits together the spirits of the suf- 
 ferers : — this could not be the feeling here;
 
 128 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 but it seemed as if there was a sympathy be- 
 tween the suppliant and the desolate canoness. 
 The young, admired, and enthusiastic woman 
 had long taken a vivid pleasure in visiting and 
 watching over the existence of this lonely 
 shrine. But for her guardian hand, the rich 
 and wandering foliage would long ago have 
 wholly enveloped it. To cull the weeds that 
 in so rank a soil gathered fast round the spot ; 
 to chase the quadrupeds that heedlessly crept 
 there, and repair the ravages that the winter 
 storms sometimes caused, were the employ of 
 many a companionless hour. 
 
 Under so fair and attentive an eye, the an- 
 cient image always looked comely and in good 
 condition, with the exception of a few casual 
 mutilations ; and while arch, pillar, and buttress 
 around felt daily the silent advances of time, 
 she seemed to flourish in a tranquillity and 
 freshness that no disorders could destroy. 
 Wild roses clustered on each side, and threw 
 their fragrance round the small, pure, and half- 
 hidden niche ; the nettle and the hemlock, that
 
 STRATTON HILL. 129 
 
 festered amidst the wild cemetery hard by, were 
 not suffered to wave their rank leaves near. 
 
 The pleasure as well as the pain ended not 
 here : when returned to her home, at a short 
 distance, the care for the desolate shrine of her 
 favourite St. Etha was sometimes felt there. 
 When the wind howled fitfully through the 
 long night, the idea of that defenceless and un- 
 sheltered head came over her thoughts ; for the 
 blast drove through arch and gateway, and the 
 snow fell on the roofless cathedral, and the dark 
 hue of ages disappeared beneath their shroud ; 
 cold, cold they fell on the lonely niche and its 
 tenant. 
 
 Often with the returning morn her footsteps 
 trod the path to the sanctuary, whether the sun 
 shone brightly, or the blast swept keenly by. 
 
 Catherine had poured ridicule on this weak- 
 ness, as she termed it ; and assured her sister, 
 she deserved to be canonized for her noble de- 
 fiance of the elements, and restless zeal, which 
 her patroness could scarcely fail richly to re- 
 ward. " Its reward is with me now," the other 
 g5
 
 180 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 would reply : " 'tis the shrine my mother loved ; 
 and from childhood I have always thought St. 
 Etha had a peculiar care for me." 
 
 As she now knelt in the green turf beneath 
 the ancient wall, and the sunlight was flung 
 through the heavy gateway into the area, and 
 broke partially the deep shade that rested on 
 aisle, pillar, and tomb, the scene and its deep 
 stillness might have excited a less ardent fancy 
 than her own. Her dark eye was fixed, but 
 not in sorrow, on the faded niche ; and her lips 
 moved gently, as of one who spoke to a friend 
 or lover, while her bonnet was laid on the grass 
 beside. 
 
 The orisons were over, and with a lingering 
 look at the ruined scene around, she repassed 
 the massive portal towards her home. 
 
 By the time she arrived at the dwelling, or 
 rather palace, as the proprietor persisted in 
 calling it, the morning was far advanced. The 
 loud and clear bell, that once summoned to 
 the episcopal repasts, no longer sent forth its 
 sounds through the numerous apartments ; nei-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 131 
 
 ther hurrying domestics, nor expecting guests, 
 both church and laymen, now met the eye. 
 There was a stillness as well as order in the 
 mansion, that, while they announced it to be but 
 partially tenanted, gave an idea of a well-order- 
 ed interior arrangement. 
 
 The threshold was, however, not rarely passed 
 by guests, who might be said to be select rather 
 than numerous ; for the attachment of the in- 
 mates to the discarded faith of Rome, rendered 
 them averse to mingle indiscriminately with the 
 neighbouring families. It was not possible, 
 however, for attractions like those the sisters 
 possessed to be neglected, when aided also by a 
 good dowry. 
 
 They were now about twenty-two and three 
 years of age, and more than one disappointed 
 lover in the neighbourhood had said, it were 
 better the old palace were changed at once into 
 a nunnery, since nothing could move two such 
 capricious beings ; yet so it was, as if to prove 
 the inimitable waywardness of the female heart, 
 that both had yielded their attachment to those
 
 132 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 who, from their previous habits and feelings, it 
 might have been safely sworn they would have 
 rejected. The difference of religion, of temper, 
 and taste, proved all too weak to avert from two 
 young women, so situated, the slavery as well 
 as the strife of passion. Those who laugh at 
 the weakness and caprice of our nature, might 
 here have found rich food for their satire. A 
 youthful zealot, to whom all sacrifices were as 
 nought in his onward path, fancy would have 
 pictured for the love of Eleanor, or else a noble 
 paladin setting out to war against the enemies 
 of the cross ; and for Catherine, a man of the 
 world, gay and brilliant, stood the fairest 
 chance. Fate ordered it otherwise, as if it 
 chose to sport with the dreams each sister had 
 richly called around her. 
 
 It was mid-day, and the inmates of the man- 
 sion were idly gazing from the large windows 
 of the parlour, on the far and varied scene they 
 commanded, when a cavalier, mounted on a hand- 
 some steed, was seen to advance slowly from the 
 canopy of woods beneath, towards the dwelling.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 1S3 
 
 There was no mistaking the youthful form that 
 soon alighted at the gate ; and a glow of plea- 
 sure spread itself over each fair cheek, as the 
 word Trevanion escaped their lips. In a few 
 minutes he entered the apartment ; and though 
 his form and features were such as few ladies 
 would have looked on with aversion, he seemed 
 to be heedless of every feeling, save that of 
 being in the presence of a beloved object. He 
 was received with kindly greeting by the old 
 man ; and the first few moments were filled by 
 eager questions and rephes. He had, in truth, 
 much to tell of interest to himself, as well as his 
 auditors ; and the deep anxiety of his features 
 expressed that this was not all of a favourable 
 nature. 
 
 " You have been for a good while a stranger," 
 said Mr. Dawnay; " we almost imagined you 
 had set out again for the neighbouring country." 
 
 " Not so,*" said the other ; " do not deem me 
 such an errant : you know not what a violation 
 of long habits and feelings such a journey was 
 to a recluse like me ; it was like the tenant of a
 
 134 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 forest coming forth into a boundless plain, on 
 which he knows not where to turn his steps ; 
 and yet, strange to say ! mine wandered willingly 
 and resistlessly." 
 
 '' Yet, you felt pleasure, no doubt," said the 
 younger lady, " in returning to the scenes you 
 had loved. For my own part, I never wished 
 to wander from them ; and though less genial, 
 perhaps, than those you have visited, they are 
 far more varied and impressive, if I mistake 
 not." 
 
 " They are so, without doubt," the visitor re- 
 plied ; " but the people are too much like their 
 province in character, rude and sincere : they 
 want the laughing gaiety, the eternal liveliness 
 of their neighbours on the opposite coast. The 
 women, too, are full of attraction : till I saw 
 the ladies of the French court, I did not be- 
 Heve it possible for female fascination to be car- 
 ried so far, so resistlessly, as by many of it." 
 
 " I wonder that you had fortitude to fly from 
 their presence," said Eleanor pettishly : *'do you 
 imagine you will meet them again on the wild
 
 STRATTON HILL. 135 
 
 Strand here, or that they are to be found like 
 wood nymphs, among the woods of Carhayes ? 
 I fear such scenes would ill suit the taste of 
 those dames ; their silken nets would be spread 
 in vain, and would inclose no fond, credulous, 
 wandering youth. Alas ! there are no gardens 
 of Armida amidst these wild hills/' 
 
 " Spare your taunts, Eleanor," the soldier 
 said, " and let the pale once more chase the 
 crimson from that cheek ; for I think it far 
 more beautiful. Why did I fly ! — because there 
 were two loud and sweet voices that bid me 
 come away. Rinaldo broke from the allure- 
 ments of Armida, at the call of war, for the love 
 of glory alone ; but to me, another came also, 
 like that of an angel ; and I tarried no longer in 
 the land of enchantments, but am come once 
 more, as you see, like a fugitive into the wil- 
 derness." 
 
 ^* And how long mean you to tarry in the 
 wilds ?" said Catherine ; " till its sweets are ex- 
 hausted, and its fountains dried up ; — and at 
 what call will you wend your way next, or at
 
 136 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 whose bidding ? for you wear that in your as- 
 pect that tells of hopes and purposes not to be 
 slighted." 
 
 " It is true," he said seriously ; " but I will 
 not talk of these things as yet ; believe me, I 
 feel this hour to be one of the sweetest of my 
 life. Often, in the gay capital of the other 
 country, or amidst its gayer court, did this 
 dwelling and its naked eminence, and — and 
 the beings who dwell there, come back on my 
 thoughts, like the place of his childhood does to 
 an exile's." 
 
 " Do you say so. Colonel.'*" said his host; 
 *' few exiles have ever been more welcome ; 
 you Ve had a long ride, and we must yet 
 taste a bottle of hermitage together ; it has the 
 smooth rich flavour of the Rhone, as you well 
 know; 'twill make the passing hour pass bright- 
 ly away." 
 
 " Pity that its brightness must so soon be 
 darkened," he replied, " or that it should be 
 the herald of a more stormy hour !" 
 
 " Is the news true," interrupted Eleanor,
 
 STRATTON HILL. 137 
 
 " that the Royal force is assembled, and soon 
 to advance against the rebels?" 
 
 " It is true," he answered. " I am now on my 
 way to the place of muster of our forces ; and 
 am come to see my friends once again, ere we 
 march against the enemy." 
 
 " Once again, Trevanion, and ere you march 
 against the enemy ?" she said, in a voice of 
 alarm, and her dark eye lost its fire. " Your 
 preparations are indeed hasty ; we were told it 
 would be yet some time ere you took the field." 
 
 " It would so, in truth, till December's frosts 
 had covered the ground, but for the restless 
 efforts of Hopton, and the devotedness and 
 extensive influence of Granville ; and we march,"" 
 he continued, in a voice full of ardour, *' with 
 a force of three thousand chosen men, and 
 choicely commanded, to Launceston, — not to 
 garrison its old walls, but quickly to issue forth 
 against the far superior army of the Earl of 
 Stamford. It is a perilous enterprise, but it 
 must be done." 
 
 Both sisters continued for a few moments
 
 138 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 silent, though deeply interested in the intelli- 
 gence. " It is sudden,'' murmured the younger 
 almost unconsciously, her affection for the 
 speaker striving fearfully with her ambition 
 that he should gain military fame. Catherine 
 relieved the silence by observing : *' Is the neu- 
 trality, then, that we flattered ourselves would 
 be lasting, utterly broken by the enemy? You 
 have justice on your side, as well as the right ; 
 and these often balance superior numbers." 
 
 " The strong hand and the stout heart are 
 a much better balance in these times; — in 
 them we are rich indeed. Then, our chiefs 
 are of more experience than the Republican 
 leaders." 
 
 "But they are men of iron, these enthusi- 
 astic men," the lady rejoined, " and fancy 
 they fight for the cause of Heaven ; and that 
 belief is often as good as spear and shield to 
 them/' 
 
 " It is true," replied the soldier ; " we have 
 had fatal proof of it on more than one occasion. 
 It is strange to see men behave on the field with
 
 STRATTON HILL. 139 
 
 as much union and bravery as if they had 
 proved many a campaign ; and but a few days 
 since they were mere churls and mechanics." 
 
 '* It were well, Colonel," she answered, " if 
 some of that spirit of union and avoidance of 
 many excesses, attached to the adherents of 
 royalty. Would the arms of the Cavaliers have 
 worse success, think you, if they followed St. 
 Witholf's principle of self-denial a little of- 
 tener ? Because your foes are fanatics, too many 
 of your men of note tread in the steps of the 
 Knights Templars ; as if the banner they fol- 
 lowed absolved them from all moral conduct, or 
 purity of feeling.'' 
 
 The former only answered with a smile of 
 contempt ; and not long after, the party se- 
 parated. The afternoon seemed to pass slowly 
 away to the visitor, though every attraction 
 was there that could give wings to time. On 
 the eve of a dangerous, and, to appearance, 
 almost desperate career, he hhd come to seek 
 one more and decisive interview with the 
 woman he loved.
 
 140 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 '' How should thy pure and peaceful eye 
 Untroubled view our scenes below ? 
 Or how a tearless beam supply 
 To light a world of war and woe ?" 
 
 Scott. 
 
 In the southern wing of the once episcopal 
 domicile was a small apartment, that, from its 
 lofty position looked on the wild heaths and 
 hills behind, on whose confines the rich woods 
 and lawns terminated. It had been the Bishop's 
 dormitory : little of its ancient character could 
 now be distinguished amidst the more tasteful 
 arrangement and ornaments of the apartment. 
 The emblems of mortality that had dwelt there 
 during the abode of Robert Seymour, the last
 
 STRATTON HILL. 141 
 
 Superior, who took pleasure, it was said, in 
 gazing on the skull and crossed bones placed on 
 a small table by his bed-side, were now re- 
 placed by objects that pleased more a lady's 
 eye. The mirror stood there ; and beside it was 
 placed a small and richly illumined missal, 
 that, though less often consulted than the 
 former ornament, was nevertheless a favourite 
 companion of the inmate. It had been a pre- 
 sent from an ancient relative, who held the 
 rank of abbess of a convent in another land, 
 but now slept with her fathers. On a shelf 
 on the wainscoted wall were ranged the 
 lives of the saints, both male and female ; 
 and from their neat though worn appearance, 
 it might be conceived they had not shared in 
 the neglect and obloquy of those by whose 
 fingers they were wont of yore to be pressed. 
 Even now, the hours both of night and morn 
 were often beguiled by their perusal, till the 
 imagination of the fair reader was trans- 
 ported to scenes of suffering and victory, 
 with an enthusiasm that, while it charmed.
 
 142 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 unfitted her mind for the more serious and 
 every-day prospects of life. They stood un- 
 opened now: even the volume that contained 
 the life and rapture of Armelle Nicolas, her fa- 
 vourite heroine, was untouched ; while the te- 
 nant of the chamber sat lost in a reverie, that, 
 from the workings of her countenance, and the 
 deep thought of her dark eye, was of too im- 
 passioned a character to be drawn from any 
 thing but present and pressing realities. With 
 her head leaning on her hand, and her look 
 turned on the dark waste that spread far in front, 
 Eleanor Dawnay seemed not to heed the ob- 
 jects on which she gazed. Her thoughts, what- 
 ever they were, were broken by the entrance of 
 her attendant, whose voice, that went before her 
 footsteps, would have roused Bishop Seymour 
 himself from his slumbers. It was not parti- 
 cularly loud or boisterous, but had that pe- 
 culiarly short and clear tone, that the ear of 
 the most pensive and abstracted cannot with- 
 stand. 
 
 Honor Middlar, for that was her name, bent
 
 STRATTON HILL. 143 
 
 Upon her lady an earnest look, and advanced 
 quickly towards her. Certainly, her air and 
 figure were not exactly of that class by which 
 we like our reveries, when they are very inte- 
 resting, to be broken on. The latter was short 
 and thick, with very little neck ; and legs of not 
 much greater longitude : the arms too, from the 
 habit of being seldom unemployed, as well as 
 the firm hold they took of most things, were 
 rarely stretched out at full length ; but reposed 
 in a gentle curve, that made them appear shorter 
 than they really were. The face was rather 
 large for the figure, but its rotundity was re- 
 deemed by very striking features: a nose slightly 
 Roman ; a round comely chin ; and a mouth that 
 might have inspired gentle feelings, but that the 
 full lips, that knew little closing, seemed ever on 
 the watch for their prey, and trembled to let 
 loose the stores of the soul. When in a pas- 
 sion, which it required great provocation to ex- 
 cite, Honor had a habit of compressing her elo- 
 quent lips ; and from the rarity of this trait, it 
 became the more impressive; while her full
 
 J 44 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 blue eye told all the dark purpose within. Fix- 
 edly was it now bent on her lady, whose expres- 
 sion of countenance it seemed at a loss to fa- 
 thom ; and she knew that Time, that waited not 
 for mistress or maid, had already swept the mo- 
 ment fixed for her personal services into the 
 gulf of oblivion. 
 
 " The sun's gwein' down upon Kingston, my 
 lady ; and you arn 't drest yet ; and I ha' been 
 waitin' nigh a hour to be summonsed, and I 'm 
 not the only one that 's waitin'." 
 
 " Is it so late ? I had forgot myself, Honor, 
 and had no thought time fled so fast ; — but 'tis 
 to little purpose now. I shall not dress this 
 evening, and shall be happier where I am." 
 
 " Happier where you are ?" said the other, 
 in one of her clearest tones, planting herself 
 doggedly at her mistress's elbow, " as if there 's 
 any pleasure in looking at those black hills and 
 moors, that are wearyin' to the very eye, — and 
 not to be compared to a pure and handsome face, 
 with eyne and hair as black as a coal." 
 
 '* What are faces, fair or black, to you, wo-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 145 
 
 man? or why sbouJd your tongue run on them ?" 
 was the answer in rather a displeased tone. 
 
 " What are they to me ?" said the other, put- 
 ting back at the same time with her small fat 
 hand the brown locks that shaded her forehead; 
 " Maybe not much : ten years syne, I might ha' 
 had my pickin' out of all in the parish ; but I 
 loved his honour's sarvice too well to take up wi' 
 them. There 's John Tresize, and one or two 
 more still parsist in starin' in church when I 'm 
 by your side ; they don't think much about 
 what they came there for. St. Teath ! they are 
 faithless men, your Ladyship, and think more 
 about earth than heaven." 
 
 " Do you mean the dark and rude-looking 
 young man, that I have often remarked to fix 
 his attention where I sit ?'"* 
 
 " He has a dowle sort of a look, and isn't 
 ower fair ; but he 's a man quite sought after in 
 the neighbourin'* ; all the light and temptin'' crea- 
 tures are makin"* up to en ; but he's a staid man, 
 John Tresize, though he's so comelie, and kens 
 better what 's for his own welfare, than to kik"* 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 up with sitch young and useless things : his 
 head o' hair, my Lady, is black as a hurtle, and 
 people say 'tis like the Curnel's.'' 
 
 The latter made no reply to this compliment; 
 for while the hands of her attendant were nearly 
 as busy in arranging her long tresses, as the 
 tongue was in dwelling on the perfections of the 
 favoured swain, the mistress's attention was en- 
 gaged, as she sat motionless in the small antique 
 chair, on a painting on the opposite wall. It re- 
 presented the martyrdom of St. Sebastian, and 
 would have done more credit to the taste of the 
 former possessors than the relics and fragments 
 of various virtue they had treasured up. It had 
 bsen purchased by Mr. Dawnay during the last 
 and only visit he had made in his youth toFrance, 
 and was transplanted to its present abode, as 
 the fittest place of rest for so esteemed a trea- 
 sure. The youthful and celebrated martyr, fas- 
 tened to a rock in the midst of a waste scene, 
 though a copy from the great Italian master, 
 exhibited that kind of interest that often invests 
 the Catholic faith with a peculiar charm for the
 
 STRATTON HILL. 147 
 
 female mind. The body, stuck full of arrows, 
 and bleeding from many wounds ; the beauty of 
 the countenance, the sweetness and resignation 
 that dwelt there; and, still more, the entire 
 helplessness of the sufferer, with the desert 
 around him, and no eye, no hand to soothe his 
 dying moments, while life ebbed slowly and 
 painfully away. 
 
 Often had the girl gazed on the painting till 
 her eyes were filled with tears. It was singular 
 that the countenance of Sebastian, by one of 
 those chances that there is no accounting for, 
 bore a resemblance to that of Trevanion, the 
 guest of the preceding evening. It was but 
 faint, yet there was the same symmetry of fea- 
 ture, and resolved and melancholy eye ; the 
 short dark hair too curled round the fair fore- 
 head, as it did round that of the latter. Each 
 day, to Eleanor's eye, this resemblance had 
 grown stronger ; and the tragic scene before her 
 suited well with the gloomy anticipations the 
 approaching struggle had caused to thicken 
 round her fancy. 
 
 H 2
 
 148 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 Not long were they now allowed to do so ; and 
 even that term had been greatly shortened, had 
 not Honor, while the pensive eye of her mistress 
 wandered not from the youthful martyr, fixed 
 her own quite as earnestly, but less mournfully, 
 on the mirror that stood on the table, and by 
 gazing over the fair shoulder on which the 
 ringlets wandered, she obtained a view per- 
 fectly to her satisfaction. Glasses of such a 
 kind were a luxury to which domestics of this 
 day were all unused ; and it was only by stealth 
 that it had been enjoyed at intervals when the 
 tenant of the apartment was away. The head of 
 redundant brown hair, the cap that rose grace- 
 fully, according to the fashion of the province, ajid 
 the large speaking eye that beamed with com- 
 placency, were reflected vividly back to the de- 
 lighted gazer, whom the setting sun would have 
 left moveless there, save that the hands moved 
 mechanically in their office, — had not a deep sigh 
 from her mistress suddenly recalled her atten- 
 tion. A glance of the eye, quick as lightning, 
 first at the latter, then at the picture, revealed
 
 STRATTON HILL. 149 
 
 to the startled handmaid at once the mysterious 
 cause of this sadness. 
 
 " It's a drear sight that, my Lady ; to treat 
 so young and comeUe a man in sitch guise ; and 
 enough to move the flintiest heart; so lonely 
 too, — no keene nor friends nigh, and the white 
 sand is all red with his blood." 
 
 " 'Twas a noble death, though," replied the 
 other, " and for a glorious cause ; no doubt we 
 see only the appalling part, and know not the 
 peace which sweetened the desertion and an- 
 guish of such an hour." 
 
 " I can't see any triumph," as your Ladyship 
 says, " in a condition hke that; among rocks and 
 white sands, getherin^ like the waves all round ; 
 there's not a roof to be seen, nor the smoke o' 
 one, nor a drop o' water, for what I see, to quench 
 his thirst.' 
 
 '* True, Honor ; but don't you see the eyes 
 bent upwards, and filled with the rich relief 
 drawn from thence ? He died for his religion , 
 and does not appear to feel his sufferings in the 
 consciousness of it."
 
 150 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 ••' For religion, Miss Eleanor! — that's clean 
 another thing. No wonder, indeed, his look is so 
 comfortable and strengthened, as one may say ; 
 yet *tis strange he should be so fouright ! and 
 sitch a keenlie figure, that would ha' looked 
 more takin' in a nice parlour, with a Turkye 
 carpet, than upon them hard stones, that are 
 piercin' into his white skin." 
 
 " But that bed was sweeter to him than one 
 of down : in that moment he would not have 
 exchanged it for a palace." 
 
 " Then he was wrong, there's no doubt, — over 
 far wrong, with his young years and dark eye, 
 to think so : there's no likin' between 'em and 
 the ould musty and vineed friars, with bald 
 heads and ashescajt faces that our master's got 
 hangin' up in his room; they mak' me quever 
 sometimes by candle-light to look at them. 
 They're no loss, a cargae o' them throwed into 
 the lake afore the window." Here a look of 
 sharp reproof reduced the speaker to sudden, 
 silence, who, after a few confused hems, at- 
 tempted to mend the breach she had made.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 151 
 
 " I don't say they wern't all good in their 
 day, and desarved maybe to be made saints 
 of, like powers o' others that are gone, and 
 quiet in the berrin-ground, \n' nittles and 
 hamlocks growing over them. But they were 
 ould and gray and full of ailins, with bodies 
 like a lantern wi' fasting ; surely they were no 
 bein's for a woman's eye to rest upon.— There 's 
 St. Martin, that your Ladyship says used to 
 put all the likelie wemmen into convents ; where 
 they never seed the blink o' the sun or of a man's 
 eye; 'tis a blessin' I didn' live in his day. A 
 few nights agone, I dreamed John Tresize, that 
 I ha' named afore, came to my bedside ; but 
 he'd got the ould man's grewsome, frownin' face 
 upon his tall, likelie figure; and his sightly 
 leg, as you must ha' observed in the church- 
 yard, was covered in a long gownd ; he looked 
 fierce, and forbade me to be married, but to 
 live in the odour o' singleness to my dyin' day." 
 
 " It's a good state. Honor, for those whose 
 minds are prepared for it, and can think and 
 talk less of the world than you do; whose heydey
 
 152 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 of youth and passion is gone by, or ought to 
 be. — Sebastian,"*' she added, thoughtfully, " was 
 in his prime, yet he spumed them all." 
 
 " But he's no example for others to do so 
 loo, if I may be so bold to say so ; there's many 
 a heart was wae for his death, 1 11 warrant ; 
 and many a eye, not older than your Ladyship's, 
 would have wept bitter tears upon his grave. 
 Living or dead, 'tis a pleasure to look upon sitch 
 a saint as he. Often I ha' marvelled how all 
 the others that his honour loves to look upon, 
 and that I ha' seen aneath, were hard fared 
 and scraggy men, stricken in years : the wemmen 
 saints are aften handsome enough ; but never ha' I 
 ^eed one o' the men that had any thing temptin* 
 about 'en, save the one in the painting there." 
 
 An involuntary smile spread over the young 
 lady's face at this observation, the truth of 
 which she could not but allow. She rose from 
 her seat, while the bustling attendant brought 
 one article of dress after another, with a fre- 
 quency that was a proof of the unusual difficulty 
 of being pleased on this occasion.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 158 
 
 " The sea-green gownd, ma'am, you don*t like 
 neither, that you used to be so fond o' ; and now 
 when all the leaves are gone, and the trees 
 withered, and any thing green wud be refreshin' 
 to the eye ; 'tis out o' nature, and winna do." 
 
 " Give me the robe," was the reply^ " and let 
 the dark mantle be ready for the evening ; for I 
 shall walk towards the lake, as the weather is fine." 
 
 " There 's nathing, my Lady, befits ye so 
 pure and tidily as the dark robe ; it fits 
 well upon a figure the like o' yours ; many 
 a- day ha' I marked a bright eye admirin' and 
 followin' after, like the ould priests used to 
 hang about the priory, that they loved so well, 
 but could never call their own. I remember 
 last Hallomas, as I was wandrin" at evenin", see- 
 ing the Curnel standing in the gateway, as fixed 
 as the image o'' St. Teath inside ; I peered in, 
 and 'twas your Ladyship 'mong the dark pillers 
 and broken walls that he was gazing at, like 
 Lot's wife at the home she sorrowed for ; and 
 ye had the dark mantle on, that evening." 
 
 " That tongue of your's would continue till 
 H 5
 
 154 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 midnight, Honor, without wearying: and the 
 company are arriving, I see ; I am in no mood 
 at present to meet them ; a lonely chamber 
 would at this moment suit better my spirits. 
 Have you waited on my sister yet ? and is she 
 in the saloon ?" 
 
 " Miss Catherine has been there an hour 
 agone, as gay and cheerfu"* as is her wont, drest 
 in the white gown, that suits so with her snowy 
 skin. She does'n' like to be alone and tristfu'' 
 like your Ladyship ; and her wild eye likes bet- 
 ter to wander upon others' faces, than to dwell 
 upon fallen walls and towers, — she has na' his 
 honour's humour like yourself. May I — '' 
 
 "No,it does not need,'' was the reply; "be here 
 to attend me two hours hence." So saying, with 
 a parting and hasty glance at the small mirror, 
 that reflected back a face and form that might 
 not be viewed with impunity, she quitted the 
 apartment, of which the attendant was for the 
 time left sole tenant. She looked cautiously 
 round for a few moments, as tlie retreating 
 feet of her mistress were heard ; and when the
 
 STRATTON HILL. 155 
 
 quick yet gentle step no longer came on the 
 ear, she closed the door, and seated herself in 
 the antique chair that had just been quitted. 
 Her brown hair and ruddy face rose * little 
 above the arms of the ancient seat, which her 
 master had never suffered to be removed for a 
 more modern one : on these, however, she con- 
 trived to repose her own short arms, though 
 somewhat to the inconvenience of the rest of 
 her figure. A keen and prolonged glance was 
 first cast on the painting on the opposite wall, 
 in which mucli satisfaction was evident ; it then 
 wandered slowly over the apartment. We all, 
 even those of us who are most fond of move- 
 ment, whether of tongue or limb, or both, find 
 an interval for solitary reflection sweet as well 
 as profitable. Such was the case at present ; 
 and though stillness was of all things the least 
 welcome to the handmaid's feelings, who could 
 have lived indeed beneath the sound of a mill- 
 wheel, her thoughts were such at this moment 
 that she scarcely seemed to be conscious she 
 was in the midst of total stillness. The arrival
 
 156 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 and stay of the accomplished guest ; resolve of 
 her mistress to issue forth in the evening, with- 
 out doubt not unattended ; the approaching 
 fierce and civil struggle, in which all the young 
 men of the neighbourhood took one side or the 
 other ; above all, the faith of the stranger, who 
 was a Protestant, came like a torrent through her 
 mind, and kept her for a good hour speechless 
 and moveless. The last rays of the hngeinng sim 
 fell on her round, busy, and now contemplative 
 face, comfortably imbedded in the bosom of 
 the chair, and on the painting of the martyred 
 youth. Honor was an admirer of beauty, 
 but less fanciful than her mistress ; she would 
 have preferred the roughest living copy to the 
 dying and fading form before her: an enthu- 
 siast to whose creed, whatever her other noted 
 qualities, she could not well be called. Honor 
 was really a clever pei^onage, but she had a 
 difficult part to play ; and it is no wonder if 
 frequent perplexity and a little duplicity were 
 the inevitable consequences of having under- 
 taken it : — the chief, and, it might be said.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 157 
 
 favourite attendant on two sisters, not only of 
 different tastes and habits, but of faith also. 
 The former might be easily overcome, with 
 management ; but the latter presented appalUng 
 difficulties. 
 
 Miss Catherine, as she used to say, was of 
 the way o' thinking, to which she herself was 
 secretly inclined ; having had an oid aunt, who 
 lived on a wild common at some distance from 
 her native cottage, who, being a Protestant, 
 had frequently held serious converse with her : 
 bu4; her younger lady was a confirmed Papist ; 
 and to this behef she was not only obliged out- 
 wardly to conform, but to profess an earnest 
 attachment to it, as the suspicion thereof would 
 have been the withdrawing of favour. Al- 
 ternately the companion, as far as light con- 
 verse went, of both ladies, it was her wont, 
 at times, to trim with the elder, of whom she 
 stood most in awe, the follies and errors of 
 the decaying hierarchy, which she would com- 
 pare to the old gateway of the cathedral, state- 
 ly and frownin', but full of chinks that the
 
 158 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 sun and wind both came through. A word 
 now and then was also dropped, as she saw 
 her auditor disposed, on the sweetness of a 
 thing that was true and clear, compared to a 
 dark and gropin' one. By the exercise of a 
 keen tact, united to the indulgence of those 
 she served, she had been hitherto enabled to 
 keep her place in good odour with both parties. 
 The many years she had lived in the family 
 had rendered the old faith, with its various 
 minutiae, traditions, and ceremonies, perfectly 
 familiar to her memory and apprehension. To 
 her practice also, on occasions, it must unfor- 
 tunately be added, — so far as a professed reve- 
 rence for certain saints, who were most dear 
 to Eleanor's feeling, as well as for peculiar 
 days — besides sundry daily crossings and in- 
 vocations, which passed for nothing. But Ho- 
 nor atoned to her conscience for these wan- 
 derings, by the reflection that her heart had 
 no share in them. She was an instance of that 
 union of shrewdness and interestedness of 
 mind, with much kindness of heart, not unfre-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 159 
 
 quently found among the women of her pro- 
 vince. Whatever her personal charms might 
 have been in days of yore, they were now, at 
 the age of thirty-two, somewhat on the wane ; 
 and hardly gave lier a title to be classed 
 among the Cornish witclies, as the fair com- 
 plexioned and richly -formed girls of the West 
 were often termed. Not so thought their pos- 
 sessor, whose person was the object of her 
 strictest and most beloved care. On the lone 
 common where her dwelling had been, from 
 whose rude door a few similar cottages could 
 be discerned at awful distances, she was the 
 admired and sought-out beauty of the waste. 
 Often might her eye descry afar off the solitary 
 form of some suitor pacing along at the ap- 
 proach of eve. But times were changed, and 
 had long been so : the round vshort figure, 
 and ruddy face and clear eye that charmed in 
 the wild, were shrouded amidst the higher 
 and jealous pretensions within the walls of the 
 old palace; the fastidiousness and independ- 
 ence of taste cherished beneath her natal roof,
 
 160 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 died gradually away. But the memory of past 
 hours of flirtation and despotism rose oft and 
 sweetly in Honor's mental eye ; again the rude 
 hearth blazed, and the door opened, within 
 which the brown face and square shoulders 
 of some admirer insinuated themselves; an- 
 other followed, and the chimney seat, though 
 turf, became a complete divan, from amidst 
 whose clouds of smoke glistened many a staring 
 and admiring eye. Even these dear remem- 
 brances yielded to the pressing conviction of 
 the moment : the alarming fact of Trevanion's 
 being a Protestant, in fearful opposition ta» 
 her mistress'^s creed, who was, no doubt, at- 
 tached to him ; and this attachment was now 
 drawing, to a crisis* How was she to steer 
 her course in such circumstances ? It was like 
 passing between Sylla and Charybdis : two 
 lovers of warring beliefs ; in the strife to please 
 one of whom, mortal offence nn'ght perchance 
 be given to the other. Thus far, during the 
 few and short visits of the admirer, her cards 
 had been played indifferently well;- but now,
 
 STRATTON HILL. 161 
 
 when affairs wore a threatening aspect^ and 
 the house began to be divided against itself, 
 neutrality was safe no longer. 
 
 The descending shades of evening warned 
 the perplexed confidant at last, that it was 
 time her reverie was ended : already the paint- 
 ings and the image-work grew dim along the 
 darkening wall : she rose hastily from her 
 aged and luxurious seat, somewhat like a 
 mastiff, who, having nestled into dreaminess 
 beside the warm hearth, hears suddenly the 
 sharp call of his master without ; for soon after 
 her young mistress hastily entered, and in a 
 hurried manner demanded her walking habili- 
 ments. The officious hands of the domestic 
 soon completed the equipment ; an inquisitive 
 sentence or two hung on the lips; but there 
 was something in the manner of the former, 
 that chilled their utterance, which died away 
 in a few suppressed murmurs. As the tacit 
 interdict did not extend to the eye as well as 
 the lip, so it could not prevent Honor from 
 stretching her short neck as far as possible out
 
 162 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 of the window, — not to survey the last hues of 
 evening on the distant mountain or the nearer 
 waters, but— to be clearly satisfied how her 
 young lady was accompanied. Accordingly, 
 skirting the lawn that led to the adjoining- 
 wood, her graceful figure was seen, with that 
 of Trevanion by her side. The eye could not 
 follow them long, ere the yellow and withering 
 foliage of the trees closed on their steps, that 
 passed on towards the border of one of the 
 sheets of water formed by the tide. It was 
 a retired and sheltered spot : the river beyond, 
 and its few passing barks, were not visible 
 through the trees that hung over the narrow 
 path. The stillness of evening was around the 
 spot : and it seemed as if those who came there 
 felt its influence ; for their voices, that had been 
 quick and animated hitherto, died away, as 
 they slowly paced to and fro on the shore. 
 
 " I have thought of this moment often, Elea- 
 nor," Trevanion at last said, " as of one that 
 must be bitter to us — but not thus would I 
 have had it come.""
 
 STRATTON HILL. 163 
 
 " Why should it be comfortless ?" she re- 
 plied ; " have I not said all that woman can 
 say, to dispel every doubt from your mind ? 
 But to yield assent to your entreaty, at such 
 a moment, and in such a fearful state of the 
 times, when you know not what the event of 
 the next day may be ; I cannot do this, Tre- 
 vanion, — indeed I cannot.'' 
 
 " In such a state of times. Miss Dawnay, the 
 soldier, in his hopes and joys, lives but from 
 day to day ; and, I might urge, that he ought 
 to snatch them in their flight. Though the 
 present struggle be a deadly one, you think too 
 darkly of it. Alas ! its honours, when they 
 come, will be almost withered in my eye, by the 
 sacrifice they shall have compelled me to make." 
 
 " Do not think so : the glory which your 
 devotion to such a cause will bring, will be a 
 rich reward ; fairer than dowry, and more last- 
 ing than life. And shall I turn that high and 
 aspiring spirit from a path so suited to it ?" 
 
 *' Do you think, Eleanor," he answered, *' I 
 should depart beneath the Royal standard with
 
 164 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 less enthusiasm or resolve to do my utmost in 
 its cause, were that hand mine irrevocably ?" 
 
 '* You know not your own heart,'' she re- 
 phed, " either in its weakness or strength, to 
 speak thus. Would the hour of battle come 
 alike, if you knew you had left an anxious and 
 attached wife, and one so lately too; or merely 
 a devoted woman, who loved your glory dearly, 
 perhaps, as yourself .^^ It was thus the knights 
 of chivalry gained a name ; when no fond tie 
 bound them : no imploring accents bade them 
 wander no more." 
 
 Her companion smiled sadly at these words, 
 and the proof they gave of the weak, as well as 
 the noble part of his mistress's character, who 
 could thus dwell in fancy on the meeds of chi- 
 valry, amidst such thoughts of tenderness and 
 sorrow. 
 
 " It might be thus, Eleanor, with me, as you 
 say; and the love of fame would be quenched, 
 perhaps, at times, in that which is stronger than 
 death. But do not let us, in thoughts of the 
 romantic, lose sight of the stern realities that
 
 STRATTON HILL. 165 
 
 are drawing nigh. A true knight ought not to 
 speak of danger and fate ; yet they do not the 
 less hover round his path." 
 
 " Talk not thus, Trevanion," she said, in a 
 faltering tone ; " I have striven not to think of 
 this ; and have often turned wildly from the 
 dark pictures of my own fancy. No, — I will 
 cherish them no more, but think how sweet it 
 will be to hear of the distinctions that you will 
 surely gain." 
 
 " And I will gain them," he said firmly ; "yet 
 you have been faithless, Eleanor, and will now let 
 me depart with the reproach of a broken word." 
 
 " But that word was for a time of peace, and 
 not of war. It was plighted ere the clouds ga- 
 thered darkly on our prospects, and you must 
 not urge its fulfilment now. Trevanion, you 
 will remember the hours that were passed, such 
 as this, but far happier, by the wood, or the wa- 
 ter's side. And, for me, — my thoughts will 
 be ever with you, in the tent by night, — in the 
 march and the peril by day, — in every moment, 
 but "
 
 166 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 He stopped, and looked at her earnestly : it 
 was hard to part from so attached a woman, who, 
 at this moment, seemed in his eye lovelier than 
 ever. Each selfish feeling instantly gave way : 
 he struggled for a few moments with the fears 
 and doubts which the vision of the future brought 
 heavily before him. It was not a foreign war, 
 a campaign of a summer, into which he was to 
 enter ; but one that involved every prospect of 
 well-being, rank, and affluence. Should the 
 arms of the Parliament be successful, his fair 
 possessions would be sequestered; his father's 
 house be made a spoil ; and he might be driven, 
 an exile and a beggar, to another land. Where 
 then would be the bright dreams of his love, the 
 dear hopes of possessing the being who now 
 stood before him ? 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " the memory of past 
 hours, and the assured hope of coming bliss, 
 shall be ever with me. They will inspire, they 
 will assure me ! Yet they are but phantoms," he 
 added, with a deep sigh, " however dear, to the 
 power of that pleading eye — the clasp of this hand
 
 STRATTON HILL. 167 
 
 in mine, my own, my beautiful betrothed. But 
 I must leave you, and that speedily." 
 
 " So soon ! time cannot have fled so fast : 
 see! the sun is still bright in the west. — But it is 
 best,'' she said, after a pause, " it should be so, 
 ere it be too bitter to part thus. We shall 
 meet again ere long ; but not hurriedly, not in 
 sorrow." 
 
 " No ; when we meet again, it will not be 
 thus. But should the enemy prevail, I must 
 be an exile, Eleanor, from my own land, — must 
 turn from my own domains like an outcast. 
 Then, should this happen, you cannot, — no, you 
 shall not, be my bride." 
 
 " Not be your bride — because you were in 
 misfortune! Should I too leave you when all 
 else had left ? Never, while my heart loves as it 
 has done ; and misery cannot change it." 
 
 " Then am I armed against all chances," 
 said the soldier. " I have dwelt in anguish 
 on the prospect ; on the leaving my home, and 
 fair patrimony ; a proscribed man in a foreign 
 land — alone."
 
 168 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 He took the hand she offered ; and, while he 
 pressed it fervently, felt that it trembled more 
 than his own. As they walked slowly from the 
 spot towards the dwelling, the light still glanced 
 from the spacious drawing-room, and gay and 
 mingled voices came from it, for several of the 
 neighbouring gentry had been invited on this 
 occasion to meet the guest. His feelings, as 
 well as those of his companion, were not now 
 tuned to share in the society, or in the loud 
 though not deep discourse of two or three 
 knots of ladies and squires, on the stirring 
 events of the time ; or the more grave and eru- 
 dite converse of the host and a few seniors at 
 the upper end of the apartment, on the glory of 
 the past reigns, both in arts and edifices, com- 
 pared to the present faded one. One or two 
 hours passed irksomely away, when Trevanion, 
 in spite of the entreaties of the father and sis- 
 ters to prolong his stay, took a hurried leave 
 of them, on the plea that he must be early at 
 the place of assembling of the forces; and mount- 
 ed his horse, and rode hastily away.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 169 
 
 The twilight soon sunk into darkness, as he 
 proceeded along an open and waste country, 
 the paths of which, however, were familiar to 
 him. Rapid motion, it has often been said, is 
 an excellent soother of strong agitations of the 
 mind, — and so it proved on this occasion ; as his 
 spirited courser bore him over treeless hills and 
 moors, on which no moon rose to shed its lis^ht. 
 The obscurity, however, suited better with the 
 tone of his feelings than the most cloudless sky ; 
 the exciting scene that awaited him in the morn- 
 ing came before his view, where some of the 
 choicest spirits of the time, both as to rank and 
 talent, were to be met with, each accompanied 
 by his followers, and each strung to meet the 
 utmost extremities for the cause they had es- 
 poused. A young and aspiring man could 
 hardly have desired a finer field on which to 
 enter, and the present candidate brought into 
 it qualities which made men look on him with 
 hope and expectation. 
 
 John Trevanion, lately chosen to the rank of 
 colonel in the King's forces in the West, was 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 descended from a family of great antiquity. 
 His ancestors had often served as sheriffs of the 
 county, and received the honour of knighthood 
 from their sovereigns. One of the mosi illus- 
 trious of these was Hugh Trevanion, who, for 
 his bravery in the battle of Bosworth Field, was 
 made a Knight Banneret ; and the sword with 
 which this was confirmed is still to be seen in 
 the church of St. Michael Carhayes. His de- 
 scendant resided at the family mansion with 
 his father ; it was a fine and extensive pile of 
 building, in a commanding situation, not far 
 from the sea. Amidst the retirement of this 
 place the son had passed the greater part of his 
 life, with the exception of a year or two in 
 France. The large portion of leisure time he 
 had enjoyed at home, uninvaded by the fashion- 
 able pleasures or profligacies indulged in by so 
 many young men of his age and fortune, had 
 been chiefly devoted to the cultivation of his 
 mind. The character of a well-read man at 
 this period, and on the confines of the Atlantic, 
 was not a frequent one ; but it might be given
 
 STRATTON HILLr 171 
 
 to Trevanion even at the age of twenty-seven, 
 for he as yet numbered no more. The hbrary 
 at Carhayes was a numerous and valuable one ; 
 well-stored with ancient lore, the situation — 
 looking down on an embattled terrace, beneath 
 which, at the bottom of a steep declivity, rushed 
 a rapid stream, and the sea opened beyond, — 
 was in itself in no slight degree inspiring. It 
 was his daily and favourite resort; and night 
 and morn both found him there, indifferent to 
 the convivial or boisterous parties of the neigh- 
 bourhood, as well as the chase, or the less 
 refined wrestling ring, around which men of 
 family were at times to be seen. 
 
 These romantic feelings would have been 
 brooded over tranquilly from year to year, amidst 
 the deep shades that surrounded Carhayes on 
 almost every side, had not the civil war broken 
 out, and opened at once a field to his hopes as 
 well as loyalty. It could not be said, however, 
 that, like the young Vendean of a later time, 
 Henri Jaquelin, he rushed at once from the bo- 
 som of total solitude into the midst of arms ; 
 I 2
 
 172 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 that the love of his King and of fame changed 
 instantly the timid and bashful youth into a 
 hero, in whose eagle-eye, as it was said of the 
 former, sat victory. Trevanion was an accom- 
 plished as well as elegant man ; had mingled in 
 the world, and been received at the most polish- 
 ed court of the age. He saw with ardour the 
 kindling of the strife around him, and his devo- 
 tion to his King made him instantly arm in his 
 cause. To this decision he was influenced by 
 his personal attachment to Sir Beville Gran- 
 ville, as well as to his heroic and command- 
 ing character. 
 
 It was not long before this period that he had 
 formed an attachment to Miss Dawnay. Love 
 had hitherto mingled little in his thoughts, and 
 seemed to stand afar off, waiting the fulfilment 
 first of his sterner prospects; but he had yield- 
 ed resistlessly to the passion, which her retired 
 and devoted character had created, at a time 
 when a calm and happy sojourn amidst his na- 
 tive domains was the only prospect he cherish- 
 ed. Eleanor first admired, and then loved him ;
 
 STRATTON HILL. 173 
 
 and paused not long to inquire if the difference 
 of his faith ought not to have presented a stern 
 barrier to this. Mr. Dawnay, indeed, started 
 some difficulties ; but as they were not very 
 pertinaciously maintained, while Catherine com- 
 bated them, and her sister remained silent, the 
 subject very soon was suffered to drop altogether. 
 The father lamented, on two or three occasions, 
 that so fine a young man, and of so agreeable 
 conversation — the latter of which praises had 
 been chiefly earned by his being an excellent 
 listener to his host's antiquarian details — should 
 be found in the way of error. As to Trevanion, 
 his stay in France had, perhaps, softened his ob- 
 jections on this head, since he was as sincere a Pro- 
 testant as his fathers had been before him, from 
 a date nearly parallel with the Reformation ; or 
 it is probable his scruples had yielded to the 
 force of his passion. Its happy termination 
 was, however, thwarted by the rapid progress 
 of the civil contest, which carried dissension 
 and disarray into the bosoms of so many fa- 
 milies, humble as well as high. It had been
 
 174 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 almost settled that their union was to take place 
 about this time ; at least, Eleanor had given 
 such a hope, if not an absolute promise, to her 
 lover; but its fulfilment was now postponed. 
 The general troubles of the times, the march of 
 the rebel army almost to the doors, and the to- 
 tal uncertainty of the future, threw gloom and 
 sorrow round the approach of the bridal dayo
 
 Sl'RATTON HILL. 175 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 " They wanted but a leader— and they found 
 One to their cause immeasurably bound." 
 
 ByRON. 
 
 After some hours, he arrived at a village 
 not more than a few miles distant from the place 
 of his destination, and here he resolved to pass 
 the remainder of the night. The accommoda- 
 tions of the small inn, if such it might be term- 
 ed, would scarcely have tempted the weary pas- 
 senger to rest : he saw his favourite horse well 
 fed and attended to, and then seated himself in 
 a huge chair, the only one in the kitchen, to 
 wait the approach of morn. It came at last, 
 and he willingly left his rude place of rest to
 
 176 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 resume his journey. The sun had risen ere he 
 drew nigh the mansion of Stowe : no fosst or 
 moat spread their shiggish depth round the 
 wall ; or drawbridge, strictly sentinelled, star- 
 tled the wanderer's footsteps away. Its found- 
 ers and improvers had not dreamed such de- 
 fences could ever be needful in so remote and 
 calm a territory. Armed men were gathered 
 thickly, however, before the walls ; and the look 
 of many among them brightened as they saw 
 the soldier alight at the gate. He paused 
 a few moments to look at the array, and 
 then passed hastily within. His reception by 
 the numerous and distinguished tenants of the 
 mansion was of the most cordial as well as flat- 
 tering kind ; and when he cast his eyes round 
 the long table, at which they now sat at their 
 morning meal, he saw more than one, the report 
 of whose deeds had been spread far and wide. 
 The ancient hall was completely filled with 
 guests, by whom the substantial cheer that load- 
 ed the board was heartily partaken of; for many 
 had travelled far through the weary night with
 
 STRATTON HILL. 177 
 
 their few adherents, or had hastened alone at 
 their utmost speed to the place of rendezvous. 
 
 The noble owner rose to meet his friend ; and 
 pressing his hand warmly, with a look that ex- 
 pressed more of the soul than any words could 
 have done, introduced him to two or three 
 leaders who were seated near him. The con- 
 versation, that had been interrupted for a mo- 
 ment, was again resumed with great earnest- 
 ness; the plans to be embraced, and that in- 
 stantly, were discussed ; for, as the Parliament's 
 arm^ were now advancing, and would soon be 
 at hand, no time was to be lost. The neu- 
 trality agreed to had been broken, and the 
 Earl of Stamford, with a force he thought suf- 
 ficient to crush the Royalists, had received or- 
 ders to enter the province, to intimidate, rather 
 than to fight, for he scarcely imagined they 
 woukl dare to meet him in the field. 
 
 Sir Ralph Hopton was now lying at Laun- 
 
 ceston with a very inferior force, and it was 
 
 resolved to march, with the levies which had 
 
 now arrived, to join him there. It was easy 
 
 1 5
 
 178 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 for a man so extensively connected as Sir Be- 
 ville Granville, to assemble, at a short notice, a 
 large body of adherents. The number of pri- 
 vate gentlemen that came to his aid, induced 
 by his persuasions, or attached to his family by 
 the ties of blood, made this body more formida- 
 ble by their quality and high courage, than by 
 their numerical force. A regiment that he had 
 raised at his own expense some time before, 
 was the only well-disciplined portion of this 
 little band that was now gathered around the 
 mansion. 
 
 The repast being ended, the hall was quickly 
 deserted ; and all issued forth to the marshaUing 
 of the troops, regular and irregular. The lat- 
 ter presented, to an experienced eye, excellent 
 materials, doubtless, to make hardy veterans of; 
 but at present, summoned from their moors and 
 hills, and fierce and rough in all their native 
 wildness, their garbs, or uniforms, were as 
 various and strange as those of FalstaflTs regi- 
 ment ; but the brawny chest, the naked and 
 colossal neck, that would have rivalled those
 
 STRATTON HILL. 179 
 
 of any Saracen in the desperate bands of Omar; 
 in fine, the " thewes and sinews'" of these hardy 
 peasants and miners, gave promise of the deeds 
 they afterwards achieved. The whole of the 
 day was passed in busy preparation to march 
 on the morrow, and in forming the motley 
 forces into the best order and array the time 
 permitted. 
 
 The fresh and green turf of the sloping lawns 
 bristled with the unwonted gleam of arms ; and 
 the broad walks rung with the heavy tread of 
 armed men. On wall and tower was many a 
 fair spectator of the show of battle. At inter- 
 vals, small parties of men were seen hastening 
 through the woods, or over the downs, to join 
 the forces, armed with the first weapon they 
 could lay their hands on ; sturdy fishermen 
 from the neighbouring coast were among them, 
 who had left their cabins and their boats, 
 and rushed to range themselves under their 
 lord's standard. Seated on a low and grass- 
 covered bank, on which he supported himself 
 with his trembling hands, while his large eye
 
 180 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 was fixed intensely on the scene before him, was 
 an old man, with a frame, even in ruins, like 
 that of Hercules. It was Kiltor, the once fa" 
 mous wrestler, and the tenant of the valley, or 
 bottom, as it was called, of Combe, who had 
 implored his ancient friend to have him con- 
 veyed hither, that he might gaze on the array, 
 and smell the battle, as it were, afar off. As 
 the weapons flashed in the sunbeams, his eye 
 seemed to catch the glare, and he lifted his 
 palsied hand in earnest approval, as Andrews, 
 to whom he had given a night's shelter a few 
 months before, oft marched past him at the 
 head of a small body of men, whom he was 
 intently engaged in instructing. The latter 
 was in the full pride and pomp of his charge ; 
 his experience and long service made him a 
 valuable aid on the present occasion ; and the 
 days of his youth seemed to come back to the 
 veteran, as foot, voice, and gesture, kept time 
 in his repeated march along the lawn. 
 
 " He's young again," muttered Kiltor, " and 
 his pike will soon draw blood ; and I 'm wi-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 181 
 
 thered, like the weeds upon this bank aneath 
 me," clenching at the same time some beautiful 
 wild flowers into atoms in his hand. 
 
 At this moment Sir Beville slowly drew nigh 
 the spot on which he sat ; the old man looked 
 eagerly and wistfully in his face, his own strong 
 and miserable feelings giving way to the long 
 and almost feudal attachment to the family. 
 
 " Is it you, Kiltor ?" said the former ; " how 
 have you contrived to leave your cottage, 
 where you hav© been a home-keeper so many 
 years ?" 
 
 " I cudn't resist, my Lord, to look upon 
 strife, or the show of it, once more afore I die. 
 'Tisna wi' me now as in times long ower, when 
 I ha** seen your young eye dance wi' joy as this 
 hand cleered one prize ater another out o' the 
 ring." 
 
 " We all have our day, my friend," was 
 the reply ; " you have had yours, and fame 
 enough too : you were long the first wrestler of 
 your time, and others now have taken your 
 pl^ce."
 
 182 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 " They have, they have, and I 'm alive to see 
 it; mere shiJderhns, Sir Beville; men o' lath, that 
 wud na"* ha** faced the grip o' my hand, or stood 
 the clinch o' my limbs, more than a withy, and 
 the whole countrie is runnin* ater them — coud I 
 but be strong for one day, a prize day, as I was 
 once, and they shud see thuse boastin' boys ; 
 one hurled to his back, without a limb movin' ; 
 another wi' broken bones; and, maybe, ane goin' 
 double all his life ater, alike Carter was for 
 many years !" and he laughed short and fiercely 
 at the cruel remembrance he had conjured up. 
 
 " Old man, age has not brought you mercy 
 or kindness of heart ; these are not feelings 
 for one whom the grave is waiting for. Years 
 have, in truth, fearfully changed you : I re- 
 member, it was when I was quite a child, Sir 
 Richard, just returned from abroad, took me to 
 see the contest in the ring. — It was you, Kiltor, 
 that won the day." 
 
 " You remember that day ?" said the wrestler 
 exultingly, almost starting from the ground, 
 though the movement gave him great pain :
 
 STRATTON HILL. 183 
 
 " it was for the tankard, my Lord, the selver 
 tankard that your grandsire put up for the 
 whole county. 'Twas a hard-folt day, and I 
 did na' ken your eyes saw it ; then ye saw, ane 
 after the other, flinged upon the yerth, Uke the 
 broken ore from the kibbal : my bones were 
 like iron, and my joints like brass — look at me 
 now, my Lord ! wud ye ken me for the same ? — 
 but ye 11 ne'er see another day like that in the 
 ring." 
 
 " I should know that giant frame again," Sir 
 Beville said ; '' it was- free and supple then, 
 and formed in the finest symmetry : there were 
 others as tall and stout, but none took my child- 
 ish fancy so much, and my grandsire was loud 
 in his praises." 
 
 Kiltor clasped his hands firmly together, 
 and the big tears slowly coursed down his hard 
 face, all unwonted : the praises of his noble 
 patron, whom he had not seen for many long 
 years, during which praise had never reached 
 his ear; the memory of that day of triumph, 
 on which such lips had dwelt, brought happier
 
 184 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 and better times back, ere disappointment and 
 disease had overcome him. 
 
 " I was all that : few so fine made, and none 
 so strong. Blessin' upon the words that said it ; 
 the eye followed ater me when I past by ; they 
 gethered from the east and the west round the 
 ring, all asked the furst thing, ' where 's Kiltor, 
 the champion ?' and the auld wemmen pointed 
 me out to the young and comelie ones. 'Twas 
 upon Stratton Down, my last field ! — all day un- 
 der a burnin'' sky we wrastled, and I got many a 
 hard fall ; but when the last man was throwed, 
 they carried me away in their arms to the vil- 
 lage. There Cattern, my young wife, the boast 
 of the whole parish, waited for me. You never 
 saw her dark eye in its strength ; how it looked 
 upon me so in love and pride that day ! We had 
 a carouse that evenin"*, and I drank hard, and 
 then went with her to our home in the Coombe ; 
 not dreamin' that I shud ne'er rejoice again. 
 Towards mornin' I woke, the dead palsy had 
 seized my side, and all my strength past from 
 me, and never, never came again. I cried loud
 
 STRATTON HILL. 185 
 
 and tossed my arms, but my body was like a 
 lost man's driftin' upon the wave, or like 
 Victor''s when I pitched un dead in the ring, 
 with his back furrowed in the grass !" 
 
 " And did you never recover, George, your 
 health and strength again V 
 
 " They went from me in a moment, like a 
 judgment from Heaven, as I said; and my 
 limbs got cold and heavy like lead, and 
 hanged from my body like the shotten branches 
 of an ould oak. Cattern cried over me day and 
 night, and tended me like an enfant : but by 
 littles I got to hate her ; her dark eye and sor- 
 rowin' face were always afore me, and sometimes 
 I thoft they mocked me ; and she changed 
 from that time, like me : her beauty wasted 
 like the froth o' the sea : she's ould now and 
 fierce, an' unhappy like me, the once milde 
 and mistreated woman. They came to my 
 dwellin', one day, once a month ater that, the 
 wrastlers from the other parish ; for there was a 
 wrastlin' 'greed upon, and they did na' ken my 
 affliction. The Germoe men were among them.
 
 186 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 my ould rivals, burnin' at their bein* owercome ; 
 they challenged me to come forth to dare them 
 'pon the morrow, and their eyes gloated ower 
 my helpless state ; I saw them look hard and 
 joyin** at one another, and then they mocked me 
 wi' their words, and my friends were sad and 
 downcast. — Oh my Lord, is it any wonder if my 
 blood turned to gall ? I gnashed my teeth arid 
 cursed them ; and from that hour my heart 
 changed like my body, and I ne'er spoke a 
 kind word, or thoft a merciful thought ater- 
 wards ; 'twas that hour that broke Cattern's 
 heart, and seared my own like a nether mill- 
 stone." 
 
 '' Wretched man !" said his noble auditor ; 
 " your life has, in truth, little left to desire; and 
 what can death, with such passions, have to 
 hope for?" 
 
 '' The feelings o' my youth are still 
 strong ; I ha' borne too long a livin' death to 
 make me fear to give up my breath. I ha' but 
 one hope: to see a stricken field, my Lord, afore 
 I die ; the clashin' o' swords, the hard strife o'
 
 STRATTON HILL. 187 
 
 men struggliii' for the life of others ; the drown- 
 in' o' voices — the ring is nothing to that." 
 
 " For shame, Kittor, to feel thus on the brink 
 of the grave ; go home, and strive for good- 
 will to others, instead of desiring scenes of 
 blood. You should have any relief or comforts 
 that I can bestow to soothe your condition ; but 
 you do not want this world's good, I believe ; is 
 not the tenement in the valley your own V^ 
 
 " It is, it is ; and I want no more, as you are 
 pleased to say; — many thanks to the house that 
 ha' fended me and my fathers afore me !" 
 
 " It is strange," thought Sir Beville, as he 
 turned from the spot, " how the passions out- 
 live the strength ! Well I remember this man, 
 so noted in his day, and still he hovers hke a 
 vulture round the carcase from which he is 
 driven." 
 
 The latter looked earnestly after the retreat- 
 ing form of the nobleman, with his lips moving 
 like those of a man who sees the friends of his 
 past life in a painful dream. " Like Sir Richard," 
 he muttered ; " the same stately step, and eye
 
 188 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 that canna be resisted in kindness or anger. 
 His foughten field I'll see, though my eyne 
 look their last upon it." He then turned to gaze 
 on the array around him with an intense inte- 
 rest that absorbed every other feeUng. 
 
 Several hours had passed away in the busy 
 and exciting duties around the walls, in which 
 every one, whatever his rank, took the liveliest 
 interest. Those who had come without arms 
 were furnished from the store the mansion af- 
 forded, not out of its armoury, but from 
 the supplies which had with great quickness 
 and foresight been provided. Time there was 
 not, to give any discipline to the raw pea- 
 santry ; who, it was decided, would be more 
 efficient, if left to act as a separate body, than 
 by being incorporated with the well-trained 
 regiment. 
 
 Evening now approached, and the sounds 
 had all, by degrees, died away ; stillness and 
 order reigned once more both within and with- 
 out the walls. The scattered and numerous 
 groups were seated on the lawn, or beneath
 
 STRATTON HILL. 389 
 
 the trees, their motley weapons laid on the 
 grass, or resting against the ancient oaks be- 
 side them, and they were abundantly supplied 
 with every requisite of good cheer. Often as 
 the horn or wooden cup of stout ale went 
 round, the health and prosperity of the noble 
 family of the dwelling were drunk with en- 
 thusiastic shouts^ that would have startled the 
 warder on the wall, or the captive in the tower, 
 had such personages been within hearing. 
 
 In the great dining-room, the more distin- 
 guished part of the assemblage was met : the 
 usual time of repast having been postponed 
 several hours, in consequence of the duties 
 and preparations of the day, it was the all- un- 
 wonted hour of ^ix, when the banquet, for so 
 it might be called, was served. In spite of the 
 largeness of the company that partook of it, 
 and the hurried hopes and fears in which do- 
 mestic, as well as chief, seemed to participate, 
 no disarray or disorder met the eye. The pre- 
 sence of the hostess, together with a few more 
 ladies, served to throw an additional zest over
 
 190 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 this crowded and military banquet, as well as to 
 repress any uncourtly sallies or licence, which 
 some of the guests, from their air and demea- 
 nour, would have enjoyed to indulge. Among 
 the fairer guests, were the wives or daughters of 
 some of the leaders in the enterprise, who had 
 accompanied them to Stowe, as a place of great- 
 er security than their own homes. At the head 
 of the long and crowded table sat the owner of 
 the mansion — a man that would at first sight 
 have arrested the attention of the most careless 
 eye. Nature had set the stamp of command on 
 Sir Beville's countenance; but so tempered with 
 mildness and even gentleness, as to give assu- 
 rance that no unjust or personal cause alone 
 would ever call forth its exercise. His native 
 province had hailed him her true and zealous 
 patriot, for his unwearied attention to its in- 
 terests ; but it was necessary to possess other 
 qualities to justify Clarendon's words, that he 
 was " the most universally beloved man of his 
 time." He was known to possess a bright and 
 unstained courage; and his descent was suffi-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 191 
 
 ciently illustrious to satisfy the most stern ad- 
 herent to ancestry, being in a direct line derived 
 from Rolla, Duke of Normandy, the grandsire 
 of the Conqueror ; by virtue of which descent, 
 the earldoms of Corbeil and Thorigny still 
 gave him their title. The profuse style of 
 hospitality in which he lived endeared him 
 greatly to the better order of gentry; and to 
 these advantages must be added those of a de- 
 cided character and unbending purpose. 
 
 To Charles he had for some years been per- 
 sonally known, who put no small value on his 
 pubhc services and attachment to his cause, as is 
 evident from the several letters he afterwards 
 wrote him with his own hand. He was among 
 the very few leaders in his province who engaged 
 in the cause from chivalric attachment and de- 
 votedness to the King. In his mind this feel- 
 ing burned as strongly as ever the love of 
 redeeming the sepulchre of Christ did in that 
 of a Paladin of old. 
 
 Hopton, in joining the Royal cause, to which 
 he afterwards became so brave and faith-
 
 192 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 ful an adherent, was moved in the first place 
 by dissensions with some of the leaders of the 
 Commons. 
 
 The Lord Mohun seemed for some time to 
 hesitate what part to take ; — to keep aloof till 
 the superior strength of one of the hostile parties 
 should determine his decision. After watching, 
 however, the movements of both, he had lately 
 joined that of the King. The conduct of Gran- 
 ville had from the first been bold, prompt, and 
 untemporizing : no obstacles thrown in his way 
 by men of rank and influence in the county 
 had for a moment arrested his onward course, 
 and he now began to reap the fruits of his la- 
 bour's. His eye kindled as he looked on the 
 companions in arms now assembled at his table, 
 while he continued to speak in an animated tone 
 of the enterprise in which they were embarked. 
 Two or three of the best informed joined in 
 this discussion, to which others listened ; while 
 the attention of the Cavaliers at the remoter 
 part of the table ' was engaged by the fairer 
 individuals of the company. Not far from the
 
 STRATTON HILL. 193 
 
 host, listening at times to his words, and again 
 passing into a momentary abstraction, sat Tre- 
 vanion ; from his features the martial excitement 
 of the morning had passed away, and his look 
 had resumed the thoughtful and almost melan- 
 choly expression that was wont to characterise 
 it. More than once the former smiled as he 
 observed the absent air of his friend, while the 
 spirit of every one around him was wound up 
 to the highest pitch. ^ 
 
 The sleepless night, and the harassing feel- 
 ings by which it was accompanied, contributed 
 to this restlessness of mind ; and in spite of the 
 rapid passage, amidst those around him, of the 
 choice wines, the shouts that rose loudly with- 
 out on the evening air, and the mingled, but 
 more chastened sounds within, the image of the 
 attractive woman he had left, her last looks and 
 words, and the changing tones in which she 
 spoke, rose to memory as distinctly as when she 
 stood at his side. Seated opposite to him, but 
 with a far different mien, was a man of his own 
 age, but older in military fame. It was Sir 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 Nicolas Slanning, the gallant defender of Pen- 
 dennis Castle, of which he had been sometime 
 governor, and was now arrived to join the pre- 
 sent undertaking; his stature was small, his 
 countenance very fair, and the florid hue that 
 ever sat there, and the light blue eye, denoted ra- 
 ther a mate of women than warriors. But a reck- 
 less and dauntless spirit were in his look and 
 words, as he dwelt with confidence on the issue of 
 to-morrow's march, and the speedy contest with 
 the enemy. He then passed into gay discourse 
 with Lady Grace and her companions, near 
 whom he was seated, rejoicing he was come to 
 break a lance in their defence, freed from the 
 dark and gloomy walls of his castle, that seemed 
 as if built for the deed^ of stern tyrants, and the 
 durance of oppressed dames. With little of the 
 refined and reflective traits that gave an interest 
 to Trevanion's aspect and discourse, he possess- 
 ed that inextinguishable vivacity and lightness 
 of heart as well as talk, that made him in gene- 
 ral a welcome companion to the other sex. 
 The ladies having withdrawn, numerous lights
 
 STRATTON HILL. 195 
 
 were brought, and the vast dining-room and its 
 various assemblage were given vividly to view. 
 It had nothing feudal in its character, save in 
 the number of individuals of good fortune and 
 family, who, being attached by the near or dis- 
 tant ties of relationship to the owner, looked on 
 him as the chief of their line, and felt pride in 
 following his counsels and fortunes. Bouville, St. 
 Leger, and Beville, — names which, by their soft- 
 ness, seemed to be alike with his of Norman ori- 
 gin, — with Cole, Trewint, Arwenack, and others, 
 of inferior standing, were mingled indiscrimi- 
 nately with the independent gentlemen who 
 had resolved to fight for the King, under the 
 guidance of his representative for the county. 
 Some of the latter were bluff, hardy squires, 
 who had left their wild homes, mounted on their f 
 best horses, and, " fiery hot with speed,'' had ^ 
 freshly arrived at the rendezvous. Hardy men 
 they were, match for any of the Parliament ^ 
 saints in fair field, and would no more flinch from 
 Haslerig's regiment of dragoons, than they i 
 would from a six-barred gate, or a tun of claret. 
 K 2
 
 196 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 Of the latter assertion they were now occupied 
 in giving very satisfactory proofs ; for the huge 
 magnum bonum was whisked to and fro with as 
 little mercy or stay as if it had been the stir- 
 rup-cup at the hostel-door on a bridal-day. Se- 
 veral, who had come far from the north coast 
 about Morva and Zennor, would have been 
 taken by the great Hamon Dentatus himself 
 for aborigines, had he met them on one of their 
 wild commons. Rough, shagged locks drooped, 
 though not sentimentally, over hard, determin- 
 ed faces, that, having been compressed in helm 
 and vizor through a night's hard riding, looked 
 redly and surprisedly forth on the brilliant as- 
 semblage, in the midst of which they found 
 themselves. The curious looks of not a few 
 were fixed on the portrait of their unfortunate 
 King that hung, large as life, above the 
 chimney, in which those thoughtful, dejected 
 features were clearly set forth. It was the first 
 time, probably, they had seen a painting of 
 King Chaarles, as they called him, or of any 
 other created being ; for the capacious bottle was
 
 STRATTON HILL. IQT 
 
 observed to linger some moments in the hands 
 of more than one, ere their eyes recovered from 
 the spell thus suddenly set before them. The 
 back swords, with brass or copper handles, the 
 latter metal preponderated, were seen to raise 
 their fronts above the table, so as to meet the 
 eye of the guests ; for there had not been time, 
 in the hurry of their arrival, to free the martial 
 sides of these worthies from their appendages. 
 
 The conversation grew by degrees more loud 
 and earnest, particularly towards the middle of 
 the hall, where the most skilful and eager lin- 
 guist of the age, had he been seated, would 
 have turned his eyes and ears quickly and in- 
 quiringly, from side to side, bewildered by the 
 wild mixture of the provincial with the liege 
 tongue of the land. 
 
 On a sudden there was a stillness throughout 
 the assembly, as the host rose to address them. 
 Sir Beville was not an eloquent man: his speeches 
 in thq house were more remarkable for manliness 
 and simplicity, than for imagination or orna- 
 ment. But when he spoke of the injuries of
 
 198 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 his King, his words came with power, for they 
 came from the heart ; and to the Cornish they 
 were charmed sounds. 
 
 He began by saying, how proud and 
 happy his feelings were as he looked round on 
 the assembly of his countrymen, prepared to 
 shed their blood in the field. — *' I have long fore- 
 seen this hour," he said, " and would have 
 offered myself to calamity, to avert the march 
 of war from the homes and hearths of my na- 
 tive province. But the call of the King to aid 
 him in his extremity has come to us, and what 
 Cornishman has heard it unmoved ? You have 
 poured forth, my friends, from hill and valley, 
 from wild and shore, to gather beneath his stand- 
 ard ; from the Land's End to the Tamar, the 
 sword has been drawn, and the cry raised that 
 rebels shall not trample on the Crown and the 
 Altar. The armour that has long hung on 
 your walls, used by some of your ancestors in 
 the fields of Bosworth and Tewkesbury, has 
 been once more put on in this holiest of causes ; 
 may it never be put off till that cause is won !
 
 STRATTON HILL. 199 
 
 For me, I rejoice to lead you on, — God grant 
 it may be to victory ! We know that the die 
 is cast — but what of that ? Houses and lands, 
 flocks and herds, may be lost if the enemy be 
 too strong for us; our fair possessions may 
 become a spoil, and the home of the low-born 
 stranger and fanatic be made within our gates ; 
 but our fame cannot pass away ! Why should 
 I dwell on the gloomy side of the future ? — ^let 
 us rather be confident of success : a few days 
 more and we meet our enemy : let us march, re- 
 membering how our fathers fought, and the 
 battle is our own." 
 
 A long and loud shout of applause followed 
 these words ; and when it subsided, the speaker 
 went on briefly to state, that it was resolved 
 to advance on the morrow to join Sir Ralph 
 Hopton at Launceston, where he was menaced 
 by the approach of the enemy, who, unless they 
 were checked, and that speedily, would, without 
 doubt, overrun the whole county. The posses- 
 sions of the loyal families would thus be laid 
 at their mercy, and the boast of the Parliament
 
 200 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 forces be successful, that they were come to 
 crush the insurrection at a blow. This decision 
 was received with great alacrity by the whole 
 assembly, who, after some time longer passed in 
 conviviality, broke up and separated. 
 
 Many of the guests accompanied the host to 
 the chesnut parlour, as it was called, to join the 
 society of the ladies. It was a low and gloomy 
 apartment. On the pannels of the wall were 
 sundry portraits of the departed owners of 
 Stowe during the six centuries of its existence ; 
 from Richard de Granville, whom the Conqueror 
 delighted to honour, down to the celebrated 
 admiral of the same name, of whom the present 
 owner was the grandson. Some of the earlier 
 of these likenesses must of course have been 
 indebted to the fancy of the painter, whose skill 
 had been exercised two or three centuries after 
 the originals had slept peacefully with their 
 fathers. Grimly they frowned along the dark- 
 ening wall, as it might truly be termed, since 
 the fading light came only from the interior 
 court of the mansion, that was overhung on
 
 STRATTON HILL. 201 
 
 each side by the heavy and massive building. 
 A feudal chieftain, seated at one of the em- 
 brasures of the narrow windows, would pro- 
 bably have preferred buttress and tower above, 
 and prison grate beneath, to the free and 
 noble prospect which the front of the dwelling 
 afforded. Over the chimney, curiously carved 
 in stone, were the Royal arms and supporters, 
 with the Imperial Crown above, supported by 
 two angels : the whole group, for the age, was 
 skilfully executed. 
 
 A stranger, who had mingled unconcernedly 
 in the company, might have thought there was 
 a lack of persons of age and experience lo 
 mature so hardy an enterprise ; for scarce- 
 ly grey head or a veteran cheek, furrowed 
 with the deep lines of war, was visible amongst 
 them. 
 
 Trevanion and Slanning, however, in spite of 
 their youth, could not be said to enter rashly 
 into so sanguinary a struggle. They both had 
 seats in Parliament, and had filled them during 
 several sessions, and taken part in some of those 
 K 5
 
 202 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 important proceedings, of which the present 
 convulsion was the consequence. 
 
 Sir Beville was scarcely more than ten years 
 their elder, being now in his fortieth year ; but, 
 for the last fifteen years, public business had 
 been so familiar to him, that few men, even of a 
 maturer age, could be said to possess a more 
 clear or perfect acquaintance with every bear- 
 ing of this controversy. 
 
 In spite of the excitation of the scene they 
 had just quitted, and the rapid approach of the 
 hour of marching at break of day, an unusual 
 sadness seemed to pervade the partv, which 
 Slanning's vivacity vainly made repeated efforts 
 to dispel. 
 
 The hostess, her countenance pale as the robe 
 she wore, spoke in a quick and low tone at times 
 to some of the female companions by whom she 
 was surrounded. There was beauty among 
 these — rather, as may be supposed, of the rustic 
 than the courtly kind; and many an admiring 
 eye was bent on the gallant figures of some of 
 the Cavaliers, who slowly paced the apartment,
 
 STRATTON HILL. 203 
 
 or stood talking to one or two groups of fair 
 hoydens, whose native shyness could not hide 
 their delight at sounds so welcome. It could 
 not be mistaken for the meeting of knights 
 and dames, ere to-morrow's tournay called them 
 forth to see and partake of " exceedynge peryl 
 and likewise pleasaunce ;" but rather the few 
 hours that intervened ere many a fated warrior 
 left for aye all that their hearts cleaved to. 
 The noble host reclined against the carved and 
 imperial group on the chimney, conscious, per- 
 haps, that the chief responsibility of this enter- 
 prise rested on him ; that it was his name had 
 called so many gallant men forth to risk life and 
 fortune : he looked earnestly at his lady, and 
 the children that were gathered around her. 
 He was brave as nciost men, but he could not 
 steel his fortitude against the possible chances 
 of war ; and what were they, so young and un- 
 protected, should those chances be fatal ? — and 
 she, the wife of his earliest youth, the mother 
 of his many and fair children, with a youth and 
 passion not yet faded ? Lady Grace raised her
 
 204 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 eyes towards her husband, read in an instant 
 his thoughts, and strove by a strong effort to 
 chase the cloud from her own. 
 
 " It is strange," she said, turning to the young 
 soldier, several of whose remarks she had 
 scarcely heeded or replied to, " Sir Nicholas, 
 that the array of war should affect us so vari- 
 ously at different moments ; this morning, every 
 eye, the fairest as well as the boldest, looked at it 
 with a thrilling interest ; and now it seems to 
 be regarded like a fearful stranger, whose pre- 
 sence is ominous." 
 
 " And as a stranger would pass away and be 
 forgotten, madam, did it not compel those we 
 love to follow its steps. Yet it is harder, as well 
 as bitterer, to sit round our own hearths and look 
 out on its track, marked by burning cottages 
 and wasted fields." 
 
 " You are right, and this ignoble part must 
 then be ours. — Ladies," addressing the bevy, both 
 old and youthful, beside her, " he is right ; we 
 must not wish those who are dear to us to be 
 absent from this cruel but unavoidable contest ;
 
 STRATTON HILL. 205 
 
 besides, it cannot be a long one, and our 
 hearths will be brighter and happier when 
 they return." 
 
 " And we shall so return^ do not doubt it, 
 my Lady," he replied. " For me, the free and 
 fair field will be welcome as the breezy waste 
 to the prisoned man, after being so long shut 
 up within the dull walls of Pendennis Castle, 
 leaguered on every side : from day to day, I saw 
 ff^m the battlements the ravages of the saintly 
 enemy on the country around, like an idle, use- 
 less spectator, without being able to pay them 
 back in their own coin." 
 
 " Do not say so ; your brave defence against 
 fearful odds without^ and famine within, is too 
 well known to need even a Lady's praise." 
 
 " Walls of granite," he replied, "on so lofty 
 a site, and with the sea beneath, could hardly 
 fall into the rebels' hands while a loyal spirit 
 was left within. They plied our little band 
 hard, and many a day we had to bless the me- 
 mory of Queen Bess, who so fairly strengthened 
 the fortress her father had built, that laughed
 
 206 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 their storming attempts to scorn. But famine 
 was a fiercer enemy : from hour to hour, we cast 
 our eyes far to seaward, and watched each point 
 and cove, in hopes that a sail would come ; but 
 we looked long in vain.'* 
 
 " The Castle stands on a noble site, does it 
 not? and looks far over sea and land on every 
 side : — it is the strongest hold, I believe, in the 
 whole province.*" 
 
 '' Few in the realm," he said " are stronger ; 
 and few domains might be made more lovely 
 than that by which it is circled. Now it is 
 waste and wild. Should any fatal reverses 
 attend the Royal arms, never will those for 
 whom they are drawn find a better place of 
 refuge or defence." 
 
 He little knew how truly his words would 
 afterwards be fulfilled, and that first his Queen, 
 Henrietta, and then her exiled son, would be 
 reduced to seek shelter within those very walls. 
 
 " Enough now of war, of its hopes and 
 fears, '"' said the lady, in a hvely tone ; " let us 
 make the present hour flow on gaily, while we
 
 STRATTON HILL. 207 
 
 may. — Alice," addressing a tall, blooming young 
 woman near her, " you will play us an air on 
 the spinnet, and accompany it with your voice : 
 but do not let it be a foreign one ; one of our 
 own province, however wild and rude, will now 
 be more in unison with our feelings." 
 
 Alice, with a smile and a look in which per- 
 fect good-humour was blended with a dash of 
 timidity, complied with the request, and com- 
 menced an ancient song in her native tongue, in 
 which the sweetness of her voice strove hard 
 with the unmelodious words that told of the 
 charm of love amidst wild moors and fern- 
 covered hills, where the roof rose humbly, and 
 the face of the stranger seldom came. Not that 
 the song was all untuneable ; for, Hke those of 
 other lands, that preserve much of the purity 
 of their ancient manners and language, it was 
 full of earnest and simple feeling. 
 
 The song was received with marked applause, 
 particularly by Trevanion, who drew near the 
 songstress, and accompanied her in two or three 
 more airs, that closely resembled the Armori-
 
 208 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 can, which he had heard sung by the wandering 
 minstrels in Normandy and Picardy. 
 
 " Now, Ahce," said Sir Beville, entering 
 fully into the spirit of the scene, " sing me the 
 old Norman air, that you know so well, that 
 was long since brought over from the opposite 
 coast. I '11 fancy it the very one my ancestors 
 loved to listen to, ere they crossed the seas. 
 They fixed their abode here, no doubt, because 
 they found the country so like their own.'* 
 
 The chant of other days was given with 
 the same effect as those that preceded it, and 
 an air of gaiety stole by degrees over the looks 
 and words of the company. 
 
 The scene without the walls was of a more 
 rude and martial character, where soldiers and 
 peasants mingled round many a blazing pile of 
 wood. The well-accoutred form of the horse- 
 man, his bright cuirass and casque, were con- 
 trasted with the harsh features and wild form 
 of the miner, in his uncouth flannel garb. The 
 glare fell fiercely on the dull and massive walls 
 beyond, and their venerable portal ; even the
 
 STRATTON HILL. 209 
 
 eastern tower was illumined, and its dense ivy 
 shroud, the covering of ages, clung all redly 
 round window and battlement. 
 
 Farther down the slope^, beneath the trees, 
 the scene was more hushed, and manj^ a group 
 was stretched round the glowing embers, till 
 the morrow's dawn should rouse them from 
 their slumbers
 
 210 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Come let us try baith fire and sword. 
 And dinna rin awa like a frighted bird 
 That's chased frae its nest i' the morning." 
 
 At an early hour on the morrow, the small 
 but united body of forces assembled around 
 Stowe began their march to Launceston, which 
 they entered the same evening. It was wdth 
 joy the inhabitants, as well as the troops already 
 pent within its walls, beheld the arrival of this 
 seasonable reinforcement, that would now enable 
 them to take the field. Hopton, sensible of the 
 importance of theplace, had not long before driven 
 the enemy out, who had retreated after a slight 
 and disgraceful resistance. The Royal forces, 
 as they drew nigh the town, although it was
 
 STRATTON HILL. 211 
 
 familiar to most of them, were struck with the 
 strong and formidable aspect it presented, and 
 rejoiced to see their banner waving from the 
 walls, on which, a few months before, that of 
 the Republicans had hung. The dark and noble 
 Castle, the most striking feature in the scene, 
 was situated on the summit of a hill, that rose 
 in the middle of the town; and the dwellings 
 clustered thickly round its feet, as if they 
 sought the shelter and protection of so proud a 
 fortress ; a high and embattled wall, a mile in 
 circuniference, circled round eminence and 
 town. The black and enormous keep of the 
 Castle, built on the loftiest point, could be seen 
 at a great distance from many parts of the 
 counties of Cornwall and Devon. Standing 
 on the edge of the steep, and meeting the eye 
 from every hall and cottage on hill or vale, it 
 looked like that dread hold of Giant Despair, 
 that bade Hope itself depart ; and justified the 
 words of an old writer, " an ancient Castle, 
 whose steep rocky-footed keep hath his top 
 environed with a treble wall ; and in regard
 
 212 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 thereof, men say, was called Castle Terrible." 
 It had been in past years the seat of barons bold 
 for a long time, when deeds of violence and 
 tyranny were probably no strangers to its walls. 
 Norden calls it " the Duke's most ancient castle, 
 in which dwelt divers earls and dukes of Corn- 
 wall, before William, Earl of Moreton, to whose 
 father, Robert, it was given by William the 
 Conqueror." It had been deserted by the 
 nobles for more than two centuries, and was 
 now in some degree fallen into decay. This 
 decay, however, extended chiefly to the interior, 
 where several of the apartments were much out 
 of repair, and had a dilapidated appearance ; 
 without, the walls and towers had suffered 
 little from the ravages of time. The upper 
 part of the mount, on which the fortress stood, 
 was inclosed by three walls, one rising above 
 another; in the open space, or area between, 
 as well as within the edifice, were lodged as 
 many of Hopton's forces as could be contained 
 there ; the remainder were quartered in the town 
 beneath.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 213 
 
 The commander and his officers would have 
 had cause of congratulation had no worse 
 lodgement received them during the civil broils. 
 There was the large hall, where princes and lords 
 had banqueted, both Saxon and Norman ; the 
 smaller hall, called the earFs chamber ; there 
 was also a small chapel adjoining, probably for 
 his private use ; and a larger chapel, many 
 apartments, and two prisons. The almost im- 
 pregnable situation of the Castle, now manned 
 by so brave a garrison, would have set at 
 nought all the efforts of the superior army of 
 the Parliament. The latter, conscious of this, 
 had no intention to invest or approach the 
 venerable capital of the province; but were 
 supposed to intend their march for the west, 
 and thus leave it in their rear. Shouts of 
 applause and welcome rung through the 
 streets, as the band of Royalists passed beneath 
 the lofty arch of the gate, and wound up the 
 narrow defiles to the Castle. 
 
 The united leaders were soon assembled in 
 the large hall, whose narrow windows might
 
 214 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 have looked down on a prospect of great beauty, 
 had they not been almost darkened by the 
 height and gloom of the walls that rose close at 
 hand. The plentiful repast, that appeared ere 
 long, was not an unwelcome sight to men who 
 had marched, though peacefully, the whole day 
 without breaking their fast; and though in 
 Hopton or Granville'*s force few Cavaliers were 
 found or countenanced who gave way to the 
 excesses and license by which so many during 
 the struggle discredited their cause, the good 
 cheer was received with keen approval : armour 
 and weapons were hung against the walls, that 
 were already loaded with similar adornments : 
 the spacious chimney was fireless and cheerless ; 
 for it was now the end of April, when the 
 hearths in this mild province crackle no more 
 with the blazing faggot ; fogs and mists, indeed, 
 had come thickly with the departure of cold. 
 Often in the morning did the sentinel on the 
 ramparts see beneath him only a sea of mist, 
 that shrouded valley and hill, as well as the 
 crowded town at his feet ; while the inhabitants
 
 STRATTON HILL. 215 
 
 beheld the black and frowning masses of the for- 
 tress, pillowed as it were by the drifting waves, 
 far above them. 
 
 Amidst the warlike accoutrements on the 
 
 wall, gilded helms, battle-axes, and brightly 
 
 polished steel cuirasses, appeared a very antique 
 
 iron helmet, and a strangely shaped hatchet, 
 
 that seemed to have belonged to one of the 
 
 old Britons. The origin of this heir loom 
 
 memorial was this: in the reigns of John and 
 
 Edward the Second, numerous manors and 
 
 estates in Cornwall and Devon were held under 
 
 Launceston, or Dunheved Castle, its ancient 
 
 name, by what was termed knight's service. 
 
 It is recorded in the " ancient tenures," that in 
 
 the twelfth of Edward the First, Robert Hurd- 
 
 ing held an acre of land and a bakehouse in the 
 
 town of Launceston, by the serjeantry of being 
 
 in the aunciente cast ell thereof, with an iron 
 
 helmet and a Danish hatchet, for forty days in 
 
 the time of war, at his own proper costs ; and 
 
 after the forty days, if the lord of the place 
 
 chooses to detain him in the castell, it must be
 
 216 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 at the cost of the same lord." Many burgesses 
 as well as landholders, availed themselves of the 
 aforesaid privilege, and cased their peaceful 
 brows in iron, and wielded the ponderous axe 
 for forty days, within the battlements. 
 
 A desolate and ruinous air was spread over 
 the large hall, in spite of the imposing assem- 
 blage now gathered there. It seemed to have 
 been long since the sounds of joy and revelry 
 had been heard there, since the minstreFs voice, 
 or the baron's mandate, had shed delight or 
 terror over the faces of the warrior and the 
 dame. The cold and damp stone-floor sounded 
 hollow beneath the tread of the many armed 
 men ; the rude granite, the original material of 
 the walls, looked out in many places beneath 
 the wood and plaster that had covered it of 
 yore : it was like the coming of a quiet invading 
 force to a vast and shattered caravanserai on 
 an Eastern plain, whose roof has long shaded 
 none but the peaceful merchant : whose foun- 
 tain has forgot to cool the lips of any but the 
 weary pilgrim or dervise.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 217 
 
 Among the guests now gathered round the 
 huge oaken table, that stood in all its pristine 
 massiveness, were several who had served 
 with Godolphin in the expedition of the 
 Earl of Essex against the Irish rebels, when 
 the former, for his valour in the battle of 
 Arclo, received the honour of knighthood ; 
 and had been in that of Kinsale, fought be- 
 tween the Queen's forces and the allied Span- 
 iards and Irish. A few had been also in the 
 wars in the Low Countries, when, in 1601, one 
 hundred gentlemen of the province volunteered 
 to serve in the Netherlands, under Vere ; and 
 their experience rendered them a valuable ac- 
 cession to the present force. Tliey were mostly 
 men who had quitted the retirement and ease 
 they had sought in the decline of life, to draw 
 their sword once more for the failing cause of 
 Royalty. The motto of " one and all" could 
 not, however, with an}^ justice, be applied to the 
 conduct of the leading men in the province, 
 during the progress of the contest. Not one of 
 them, probably, desired war for its own sake ; 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 but the seeds of dissension and disunion had 
 been sown before the commencement of the 
 rupture between the King and his Parliament. 
 An earnest petition had been presented to the 
 House, soliciting a redress of grievances ; this 
 petition had been disregarded. The sundry 
 causes of complaint were all local, relating 
 chiefly to the decay of the fortifications, and 
 the total neglect by Government of the many 
 fine harbours on the coasts. A few men of 
 rank and affluence, whose possessions, situated 
 in these parts, would have been greatly bene- 
 fited by the increase of commerce, were mortified 
 at the contempt shown to their request : many 
 of the mercantile class also saw with regret 
 those ports, which Nature had expressly de- 
 signed for the prosperity of the province, en- 
 tirely overlooked and slighted, while the chan- 
 nels of industry and wealth were directed to less 
 favourable and useful spots. The desire of 
 change, differences of political feeling, and 
 motives of rivalry, had tended, no doubt, far 
 more than the aforesaid local grievances, to
 
 STRATTON HILL. 219 
 
 light the torch of civil war in this distant terri- 
 tory. It was true, the number of discontented 
 spirits was small and powerless, compared to 
 that of the loyal : and although the few who 
 took the field and raised the standard of the 
 Parliament were men of note and degree, they 
 were attended merely by their own retainers ; 
 their influence and efforts were alike unavailing 
 to assemble a sufficient force, or induce the 
 peasant, the trader, or the artizan, to take up 
 arms against their king. 
 
 Seated beside the veterans who had served 
 with his father, was a young man whom Nature 
 seemed not to have peculiarly fitted for war, — it 
 was the celebrated Sidney Godolphin, on whom 
 Hopton had conferred the rank of colonel, in 
 compliment to his own reputation as well as 
 that of his family. As a scholar and a soldier, 
 he gave promise of great excellence ; but was 
 doomed to a brief career, being slain not long 
 afterwards in a skirmish at Chagford, " leaving 
 the misfortune of his death," says Clarendon, 
 " upon a place which could never otherwise 
 l2
 
 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 have had a mention in the world. He was 
 a young gentleman of incomparable parts, and 
 whose notable abilities were of great use in 
 all civil transactions ; — so he exposed his person 
 to all actions, travel and hazard/* 
 
 He was at this time engaged in earnest con- 
 versation on the wars in the Low Countries with 
 a stout, weather-beaten man, who had for some 
 years laid aside the sword and shield, and be- 
 taken himself to the cultivation of his paternal 
 acres in the rich valley beyond the town, 
 through which the beautiful river Tamar wan- 
 dered. Of a light and active figure, and a 
 countenance full of genius, he seemed to the 
 eye born rather for high eminence in letters 
 than in arms ; the path of the former, which he 
 loved to enthusiasm, he quitted when the 
 wrongs, as he deemed them, of the King began 
 to kindle ardent and indignant feelings in his 
 mind. His advice was said to be often taken 
 in these troubled times, by those who were near 
 the Royal person, and who valued the ripeness 
 of his judgment and keenness of his wit.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 221 
 
 Sidney had acquired no small fame by his 
 writings, and was considered one of the most 
 eminent poets of his time ; the friend of 
 Hobbes, who dedicated one of his works to 
 him, and of the leading wits of the age, he has 
 left a literary rather than a soldier's reputation 
 behind. His poems were distinguished for their 
 eloquence, and the beauty of their sentiment. 
 
 Night drew on apace ; the entrance of a 
 soldier at intervals for further orders, or with 
 some report of the advance of the enemy, only 
 broke on the discourse of the anxious leaders, 
 who felt that the fate of the province depended 
 on their next movement. The area without 
 was crowded to excess with soldiery ; never in 
 the days of its Saxon lords had every avenue 
 and passage been thus peopled. Hopton apo- 
 logised for the want of better accommodations ; 
 and observed that the old hall floor must be the 
 couch of many amongst them, as from long 
 neglect the chambers were almost as desolate, 
 and the scanty number that were in tolerable 
 repair would allow but of few inmates. " It is
 
 222 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 a good way," he said, addressing himself to some 
 of the younger officers, " in which to begin a 
 campaign. — Your father, Godolphin, forty 
 years ago, met with harder and wilder quarters 
 in Ireland : this old fortress is the very lap of 
 luxury, compared to the moors and bogs among 
 which he served." 
 
 " He used to say," the other answered, " had 
 the service been as long as it was severe and 
 harassing, the Queen would have looked in vain 
 for the return of some of her favourites again : 
 Essex swore she had sent them there, himself 
 of course among the rest, by way of honourably 
 getting rid of them." 
 
 " But they had the range of the land," replied 
 the General in his calm tone, '' waste and desolate 
 as it was : their free march had no hindrance 
 till they met the foe. We are pent up inglorious- 
 ly here, and know not when the enemy will 
 be disposed to give us battle : and we may not 
 quit this place of defence." 
 
 " It cannot be many days hence," Slanning 
 observed : '' we know they were advancing slowly
 
 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 towards the frontiers, and shall soon hear of 
 their near approach. Stamford may hardly use 
 Attila's words of not letting the grass grow 
 beneath his horses' feet ; but he cannot dally 
 much longer." 
 
 " His force, 'tis said, is well appointed," the 
 other replied, " and double our own, with two or 
 three officers of note among them: Ruthven 
 too, not daunted by his defeat on Bradock 
 Down, has a command under the Earl. They 
 will not dare to invest the town; and I 
 trust they will not invest themselves in some 
 strong position, although it would be like their 
 tactics." 
 
 " In the latter case, General, we shall be 
 both, allow me to say, in the like situation : 
 eating up idly the substance of the country, 
 and regarding each other from a safe and re- 
 spectful distance. It may suit their affairs, but 
 not our own, which demand instant action. 
 Besides, the whole province is before them, to 
 march where they please over an undefended 
 country, even to the Atlantic."
 
 224 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 " True,'' Hopton replied ; " but they may 
 not leave us in their rear : and the last defeat, 
 by my halidome ! will make Stamford shun the 
 open waste ground. That fatal down rises like 
 a spectre before him, and he comes like Fabius, 
 to watch and wear us out." 
 
 " It will not need many moons to do that," 
 Slanning returned : " famine must, ere the sum- 
 mer comes, wear us out ; and the Castle cells, 
 that never held more unwilling captives, may 
 be the resting-place of our bones. — Curse on 
 the dilatory proceedings of the timid Earl ! with 
 such a body of men at my heels as he has, I 'd 
 not gaze on town and tower afar off, like a 
 guilty marauder, but would walk to the very 
 rocks of the Atlantic, and sweep the wild plains 
 and moors in my way, like a northern blast." 
 
 "But not unscathed would be your way. 
 Sir Nicholas,"*' said Godolphin ; " you would 
 find firebrands and arrows of death in the path, 
 to disturb that intrepid walk, that bears little 
 semblance to a fierce sally from a beleaguered 
 castle. I 've envied you chasing the Puritans
 
 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 down the slope of Pendennis in a quick and 
 bloody onset, but I wish not to see you gene- 
 ralissimo. The advance would be, in truth, like 
 the blast ; but when it was spent, the calm that 
 followed would be a fearful one ; for, to pause, 
 to look back, or retreat, forms no part of your 
 creed." 
 
 " And why should they ? I 've always held, 
 that had more prompt and decided measures 
 been earlier adopted, the cause would by this 
 time triumph : had the King attacked, instead 
 of hesitating ; had he, on more than one occa- 
 sion, borne on the rebels like an angry enemy 
 instead of a pitying king, his affairs would be 
 brighter, and his banner wave from Berwick 
 to the western shore/' 
 
 " I differ from you entirely," said the other : 
 " the very rashness and impetuosity you praise 
 have more than once been the ruin of the 
 cause. Rupert's hot spirit, in more than one 
 battle, has done more harm than his talents in 
 the field could ever atone for. — But you cannot 
 play Rupert here, Slanning ; these heights, 
 L 5
 
 226 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 that make my head turn dizzy, make a sally 
 as hazardous as for Stamford to attempt to 
 climb up." 
 
 " Ay, by St. Leonard !'' said Slanning, with 
 a good-natured laugh, '' I 'd forbear a fine sally 
 to see that sight ; to look on the crop-ears sca- 
 ling the steep face of the rocks without, toiling 
 like crabs in a line up a sand-bank ; while the 
 stones and rude fragments toppled down, rolling 
 them one upon another. — Godolphin, such a 
 scene is new to you. I 'd give my gage, even 
 to a Puritan, if you could but share in it. Be- 
 lieve me, when we were pinched to skin and 
 bone at Pendennis by three days' fasting, I for- 
 got all in a moment when we saw the Round- 
 heads advancing cautiously up the grassy steep, 
 looking to right and left as if a mine was about 
 to spring at every step : some of them pausing 
 behind a bank, others looking on the wave be- 
 low, and the rush and the scattering as the 
 Castle-gate was thrown open, and on we came. 
 By my father's crest, 'twas glorious !" 
 
 " I doubt it not," said Hopton ; " but for our
 
 STRATTON HILL. SS7 
 
 banner's sake, and the King's, I 'd rather such 
 onset should be in the open field. — And now, 
 gentlemen, the night wears fast, and warns us to 
 seek repose; the best lodgement our quarters 
 afford is prepared. We ought to pray for the 
 Puritans' arrival, were it only to give us elbow- 
 room : the very prison-floors have been tenanted 
 — one of them, at least ; the others had a tenant, 
 ere my arrival, placed there by the good ma- 
 gistrates of the town below." 
 
 " What prisoner may it be ?" was asked, 
 ** and for what crime ?'^ 
 
 " His crime consists in his being a Repub- 
 lican," replied the other ; " and I am assured 
 he is a dangerous person to let go forth at the 
 present moment. He is a man not yet past his 
 youth, of respectable family and attainments, 
 and has seen much of the world. But it seems 
 he has embraced the enthusiastic doctrines of 
 the Puritans, and does not scruple to en- 
 deavour to spread them in the province of 
 which he is a native, when any opportunity 
 occurs,"
 
 228 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 " Is his name Carries ?'' Trevanion inquired 
 with some interest. 
 
 "The same, I think/' was the reply. 
 
 The company soon after separated, and re- 
 paired wherever fancy directed them to seek 
 repose ; the helms and buff coats placed idly 
 round, served several for a pillow ; many a 
 veteran made his couch on the venerable pave- 
 ment, and thought how often in other lands 
 the sky had been his only canopy ; several pre- 
 ferred the freshness of the night-air and the 
 green slope without, to the gloomy apartments 
 within ; and soon, so deep a silence had come 
 over the place, that the slow footfall of the 
 sentinel without could be distinctly heard.
 
 STRATTON Ull.L 229 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 " He loved the quiet joys that wake 
 By lonely stream and silent lake ; 
 In Deepdale's solitude to lie, 
 Where all is cliff, and copse, and sky." 
 
 Scott. 
 
 Who does not feel a charm in the stillness 
 and impressiveness of a beautiful night, in any 
 clime, and at every age ? The prophet has lov- 
 ed to pour forth his warnings on the earth and 
 its crimes, when its veil has been for a while 
 drawn over them : the hero has shrunk from 
 the career he had marked in blood, and thought 
 for a moment of calmer and happier things : 
 the saint, when the majesty of the night is upon 
 the earth, has rushed with joy to seek inter-
 
 230 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 course with that world of spirits, that seems 
 then to open more vividly to his fancy, more 
 ardently to his hope. In that chosen land, 
 where patriarch and pilgrim alike have bent the 
 knee, in the stillness of its solemn retreats, there 
 is a glory in this hour, which in other lands is 
 not seen ; and which the curse that has levelled 
 palace, and throne, and altar, has in mercy 
 spared still. Where the waters of Galilee are 
 spread in their majestic valley, the night comes 
 down in such power and vividness, as if Heaven 
 still loved the hallowed scene, and still shed 
 over it a peculiar favour. From the height 
 where yet stand the ruins of the City that was 
 once " lifted up to heaven," but now utterly 
 cast down, to the point whence the sacred river 
 rushes forth, all is enchanting, as if angels dwelt 
 there ; but hushed as the grave, for the foot of 
 man has long passed away : the Arab will not 
 sojourn there ; his courser's tread is not heard 
 by day, nor his dark tent seen through the 
 gloom. Even to the howling wilderness, the 
 fearful land, the night alone brings a semblance
 
 STRATTON HILL. 231 
 
 of beauty ; when the fierce glare of the sky is 
 veiled, and the soft silvery hue rests on the 
 sandy ocean and its broken waves, and the pre- 
 cipices cast their long shadows on the traveller's 
 path, who hails the scene, that is as dear to his 
 eye as the stream to his parched lips. The 
 ruin of other times never has such dignity and 
 sadness, as when the dim, solemn light is on its 
 roofless temple, broken altars, and empty niches 
 — it seems as if the voice as well as the array of 
 mourning was within, and that those who were 
 once worshipped there have come back to their 
 desolate places. So sadly looked the Castle of 
 Dunheved, on which the moon was now shed- 
 ding her fullest radiance : its huge masses, pro- 
 jecting on the edges of the precipices, were flung 
 boldly and darkly forth against the clear mid- 
 night sky : the lofty keep stood aloof, a fierce 
 memorial of human tears and crimes. Along 
 the tranquil face of rock and grassy hill stole at 
 times low sounds and voices from the dwellings 
 beneath, and the gleam of some watch-fire was 
 seen to bicker forth for a moment, and then
 
 232 • STRATTON HILL. 
 
 expire again. The town, with its narrow streets, 
 irregular stone and wooden dwellings and ho- 
 vels, was sunk in the broad shadow of the hill : 
 beyond, was a " deep solitary vale," through 
 which the river Tamar wound, glittering at in- 
 tervals, till its course was lost in the distance. 
 
 The night was far advanced, when Trevanion 
 approached one of the prisons in the Castle. 
 The door was unlocked by the soldier who at- 
 tended him, and he entered a low, dark cham- 
 ber with a floor of stone ; a single light burned 
 there, by which might be discovered a table 
 and chair, on the former of which some books 
 were scattered, and in a corner was placed a 
 flock-bed. He saluted, with a friendly air, the 
 inmate of this cell, who was slowly pacing to 
 and fro its narrow floor, who cordially returned 
 his greetings, expressing his surprise at the 
 visit. 
 
 " I did not expect. Carries," said the former, 
 " to have met you thus." 
 
 " Not thus ! What is there in my present 
 situation so fearful, or deserving of pity .?"
 
 STRATTON HILL. 233 
 
 " I know your peculiar way of thmicing,"" 
 was the reply, " but a confinement such as this 
 cannot be pleasant to bear." 
 
 " I have traversed too much, Trevanion," he 
 said, " of the world, and borne too many of the 
 changes of the way, to allow a durance hke 
 this to ruffle my temper. I might tell you 
 that I love to suffer, but you would smile at me 
 for saying so." 
 
 " These cold, damp walls," said the other, 
 " where, no doubt, many a criminal as well as 
 victim has been immured ; this dim light, and 
 the loss of the free air and liberty ; what is 
 there in all this to charm ?" 
 
 " I have fared much worse," he replied, look- 
 ing at the repast that had just been placed on 
 the table, " and been worse lodged in more 
 than one monastery abroad ; I did not complain 
 then, when I sought those places from the love 
 of wandering ; and why should I now, when I 
 bear this for conscience' sake .?" 
 
 " Go ! — you are an enthusiast," replied the 
 other ; " I will not say fanatic. For conscience'
 
 234) STRATTON HILL. 
 
 sake ! — ^it moves me to hear a man of your sense 
 talk in that way of mishaps and adversities, 
 which you make for yourself, when the stake 
 of kingdoms is playing for around you, and 
 men risk life, fame, and fortune on each side." 
 
 " I have not blenched from dangers," replied 
 the prisoner, " when they have crossed my 
 path : there are moments, perhaps, when I wish 
 I could think and feel as you do, spurred on by 
 an heroic impulse to sustain a falling throne; 
 yet these feelings are but as passing clouds-^ 
 no, it would be sinful to yield to them." 
 
 " Better that you had yielded to and em- 
 braced them, and joined the devoted ranks of 
 those who rally round the Crown and the Altar ; 
 you would then gain fame, Carries, a place in 
 the history of your country — whereas now — But 
 come, leave this cell, and walk with me on the 
 ramparts; the night-breeze is fresher than the 
 damp air of this place." 
 
 " Fame," said the other, following, while his 
 eye brightened, and his cheek became flushed.
 
 STEATTON HILL. 235 
 
 " is a noble thing ; I do not wonder at the risks 
 men run to obtain it." 
 
 " I know you love celebrity dearly," said 
 Trevanion, resuming the discourse ; " why not 
 choose the brightest path in which it is to be 
 found ? The one you have embraced may do 
 very well for stern fanatics and unknown men, 
 but it can lead only to obscurity and persecu- 
 tion.'^ 
 
 " Not so," he answered, with a smile ; " not 
 altogether to obscurity. We are widely dis- 
 united in our views, as well as our paths, 
 through life. You have a long line of illustri, 
 ous ancestors to boast of, and to look back on : 
 I have not in the like degree ; and cannot, per- 
 haps, feel urged to the same high career as 
 yourself. My present zeal, hope, and ambi- 
 tion, are the result of the early bias of my feel- 
 ings by the best of parents ; those feelings ani- 
 mated me to that long career of travel and pil- 
 grimage, which I would not exchange, Tre- 
 vanion, for all your advantages."
 
 ^S6 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 " You should have lived. Carries," said his 
 companion, " in the days of the Crusades, when 
 each man marched in the full assurance of a 
 spotless cause, and with a conscience armed 
 against all possibiHties." 
 
 " You have touched the string," said the 
 other, '' to which my heart has often re- 
 sponded — the Cross ! That was, in truth, an il- 
 lustrious cause, though the creed was dark that 
 drew the myriads on — to have gained a name 
 or a grave in that land, on whose very wastes 
 sleeps the dust of noble Paladins — far more, 
 whose every rock and stream is hallowed, and 
 each solitary place embalmed by the feet of 
 Him, who there gained for us an eternal vic- 
 tory ! On those wastes my head has slept at 
 night ; and the shadow of its rocks been my 
 home by day : you know not how light their 
 memory has made my prison to me." 
 
 " This is a strange enthusiasm," Trevanion 
 replied. " Are not these scenes as worthy to be 
 defended as the distant ones on which you 
 dwell ? Seldom have I seen a lovelier hour
 
 STRATTON HILL. 237 
 
 than this : look at the hills and vales, and the 
 wastes that spread beyond ! will not the clod of 
 his native valley, the turf of the moor, or the 
 heath that shall cover him, be as welcome to 
 the dying man as the hallowed soil you speak 
 of ? The latter, if I mistake not, has not em- 
 braced all your zeal : you had sufficient left to 
 take arms against your King, and draw your 
 sword against your country." 
 
 " When I returned to my native land," re- 
 plied the latter, " I found war kindling ; and 
 the new faith, as you call it — the pure and ani- 
 mating sentiments, as I deem them, were spread- 
 ing far and wide; I embraced, and love them. 
 Let me return to the cell, and years pass over 
 me there ; or let me mount the scaffold — but I 
 will never yield up the freedom of my spirit or 
 of my country. 'Twas for that I drew the 
 sword — would to God I had never drawn it !*" 
 
 " And are you so prepared to meet death in 
 such a form ?" replied the other. " 1 doubt 
 you deceive yourself." 
 
 " It may be that I am deceived as to my own
 
 238 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 endurance,'*' said the prisoner ; " the dungeon 
 and the scaffold are fearful things ; — yet why is 
 death so fearful ?" he added, raising his eyes to 
 the brilliant sky, whose lights were now fading 
 at the approach of dawn: " if it be sweet to lay 
 the head on the soil where His was laid, far 
 happier must that scene be, where it shall sleep 
 no more, nor mourn the darkening of its beloved 
 dreams ; where Immortality, that beautiful vi- 
 sion, that haunts our steps through life, and 
 hovers round our grave, shall be embodied — and 
 be ours for ever !'' 
 
 Trevanion, struck with the fervour of his 
 manner, paused and looked fixedly at him, as 
 their steps were now arrested by the descent : 
 his features were lighted up with unusual ener- 
 gy, and his slight form stood on the edge of 
 the rocky steep, contrasted strongly with the 
 tall and knightly figure of his companion. 
 
 " I see it is in vain then," he said, " to urge 
 you to embrace the Royal cause ; and as I do not 
 agree in the opinion of the honest burgesses of 
 the town, of dark plots and treacheries haunt-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 289 
 
 ing your path, I will undertake to procure your 
 freedom. It is for the sake of one, whom you 
 well know, as well as from my own regard for 
 you, that I do this. — You will not, I know, 
 follow the standard of the enemy." 
 
 " You need not harbour the thought," he 
 replied. 
 
 " It is well," said Trevanion ; " by to-morrow 
 you shall be free, if my words can effect it." 
 
 The prisoner took the proff^ered hand of his 
 visitor, and warmly pressed it ; then left the 
 breezy rampart, descended the winding stairs to 
 his gloomy cell once more, and heard its massive 
 door locked and barred behind him. 
 
 Again left alone, the inmate of the cell turn- 
 ed impatiently from the damp walls, on which 
 the taper's light faintly fell, and thought of the 
 loved wilds and shores with which his step 
 was familiar. To amuse the time, he began 
 to read one of the religious treatises of 
 the times, out of several that lay confusedly 
 before him ; but not with any great steadi- 
 ness or fixedness of attention, for his look fre-
 
 240 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 quently wandered from the page, as if some 
 momentary reverie, more than the learned au- 
 thor's matter, was in possession of his thoughts. 
 William Carries, at present sole owner of an 
 ancient seat, called Carries House, was the only 
 one of his name at this time existing in the 
 county, whose families, like those of Wales, 
 cover every valley and mountain side with their 
 thick and wide-spreading branches. The seat 
 of his fathers, in consequence of its present 
 master's long absence, was in no very high state 
 of preservation : he was not, in truth, a pro- 
 prietor disposed ; to stay at home, gaze on his 
 paternal acres with pride, beautify the drear 
 walls of his hereditary mansion, or build up 
 anew the cots, hedges, and fences, and inclose 
 many a snug field from the neighbouring and neg- 
 lected common. In his parent's lifetime he had 
 never any taste for these simple yet necessary 
 pursuits; and afterwards he had roved too wide 
 and far to allow him to regard them without 
 distaste and aversion. His father had been a 
 follower of the See of Rome ; but his mother, 
 whom he had tenderly loved, was a zealous
 
 STRATTON HILL. 241 
 
 Protestant. It had been her delight to sow, 
 incessantly and deeply, the same sentiments and 
 feelings in the mind of her only child that had 
 long blessed and animated her own. In the 
 situation in which they dwelt, " a grey stone 
 dwelling, on a low hill side," it may be conceived 
 that the converse, sharpened by tenderness, of a 
 woman who was, in truth, one among a thousand, 
 sunk deeply into the heart and memory of the 
 boy, and grew and strengthened with his growth. 
 His father was an opulent squire, attached to his 
 faith more by habit than zeal, the latter of which 
 was never strong enough to make him interfere 
 with the sentiments of his son : provided his 
 home was a kind and cheerful one, and his 
 neighbours, when they came, found a bright 
 hearth and good cheer, he cared for little else. 
 Scarcely a dwelling was within view ; the spire 
 of Quethiock church rose in the midst of the 
 desolate common, over every part of which its 
 bell rang clear and solemnly, as it called the few 
 living to the house of prayer, or the wretched 
 to their last resting place. 
 VOL. I. M
 
 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 In this lone place the youth was not, how- 
 ever, wholly without resource ; his many leisure 
 hours were passed alternately in reading, and 
 traversing the wild scenes near which he lived : 
 the stern shore, and the still and sweet valleys 
 opening on the sea. And here he had dwelt 
 often in imagination, even to rapture, on fairer 
 lands and scenes, some descriptions of which he 
 had read, or heard of from a chance pilgrim, 
 who found a shelter beneath his father's roof; 
 in talking with whom he often wiled the night- 
 hours away. At times, when his religious feel- 
 ings rose to enthusiasm, he longed to tread " the 
 ancient, the chosen land," as ardently as ever pa- 
 triarch wished to breathe his last there. This 
 desire was not a solitary one in this age : a few 
 noblemen, among them the Lord Carnarvon, set 
 out to realize it. 
 
 His mother smiled at times to hear of these 
 plans and prospects, and would observe it was a 
 weary and hazardous way ; and contentment at 
 home was sweeter than all the pleasures it could 
 afford. The deficiency of his education, com-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 243 
 
 mon at that time to the province, as well as to 
 the family seat, and the unsettled habit of mind 
 he acquired in a life where every hour was his 
 own, and had no fixed occupation, proved af- 
 terwards, in his various course, to be real mis- 
 fortunes. They were only redeemed by a bril- 
 Uancy of imagination, a pure taste that nature 
 seemed to have given him, and an extreme ar- 
 dour and endurance of spirit in the path it chose : 
 qualities which the hour of trial drew forth, 
 but the calmness and monotony of his native 
 roof had thus far concealed. And now he re- 
 solved to indulge the long and lovely visions 
 that he had fostered : the only tie that bound 
 him to his native spot was his mother's love ; 
 for whose sake he thought he could have dwelt 
 for ever in the hall or the hovel. Yet he bade 
 her adieu, gazed for the last time on that mild 
 and pleading countenance, left the walls of his 
 dwelling, and launched forth at once on the wide 
 world. 
 
 It was singular how entirely the delicate apd 
 solitary habits of his life yielded to the strong 
 
 M 2
 
 244 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 excitement of the way : things painful, now be- 
 came sweet; and, after many years, he returned, 
 another man. He came to his native place like 
 one risen from the dead, and entered again the 
 dwelling that was now tenantless. He found 
 that both his parents were dead, and had be- 
 queathed him a handsome though not exten- 
 sive patrimony. He resided for some time in 
 his own dwelling ; but the high and incessant 
 excitement to which, for some years, he had 
 been accustomed, made the sameness and list- 
 lessness of such a life seem an intolerable bur- 
 den. Fortunately for the welfare of his mind, 
 the civil war broke out, and in the questions 
 that were agitated respecting religion as well as 
 politics, it found the stimulus it wanted. His 
 slumbering enthusiasm was fanned at once into 
 a flame, and he eagerly chose his part, by join- 
 ing the ranks of the insurgents, and was at the 
 first great battle at Edgehill, and one or two 
 subsequent fights. But, shocked at the useless 
 slaughter of the day, as well as disgusted with 
 the violent and insincere proceedings of many
 
 STRATTON HILL. 245 
 
 of the Parliamentarians, he quitted the army, 
 and returned to his own province. 
 
 The age of the Revolution, among its remark- 
 able results, was rich in the many singular cha- 
 racters it produced, both in high and low life, 
 peaceful as well as warlike. Many of these 
 sunk into oblivion ; and, like the present cha- 
 racter, were little known to fame, even in their 
 day ; because they did not cleave their way to 
 it by the sword, or seek their own aggrandize- 
 ment alone, while words of self-abasement were 
 on their lips. His present retreat removed him 
 from the fierce party struggles and rivalries that 
 drew every able spirit of the time within their 
 vortex. A fiery enthusiasm did not belong to the 
 temper of the man : his was of a fervent, but 
 mild and dreamy character, that loved to vent 
 itself in thoughts, words, and musings ; but 
 shrunk from the stern deed, and the sterner word, 
 and would not probably have drawn the anger 
 of the rulers of the province, had he not come 
 to the capital at the time the enemy's army was 
 drawing near. The knowledge of his having
 
 346 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 once served in the ranks, though he had since 
 voluntarily quitted them, combined with the Re- 
 publican principles he professed, procured him 
 a speedy and close confinement in the Castle. 
 Had he fallen into the hands of some of the 
 ruthless Cavaliers of the time, his shrift had 
 perhaps been shorter. 
 
 The day and night passed slowly within the 
 walls of his narrow chamber. There was one 
 feeling that came over him, more thrilling, per- 
 haps, than any other the future or the past 
 could bring. While he brooded over it, the 
 war and its events, the falling into pieces of the 
 monarchy and the church, and the rising tri- 
 umph of his own loved principles, faded from 
 his mind. He looked at the grated window and 
 the grey sky above, with a deep sigh, and an 
 earnest prayer for freedom.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 247 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " We deck our hair 
 With flow'rets fair. 
 
 And perfume our wings with their breath; 
 We dance on the green 
 Unheard — unseen. 
 
 And we weep at the glow-worm's death.'* 
 
 While these scenes had been going on in 
 the Castle, the town beneath had scarcely been 
 more tranquil. The inhabitants were all well 
 affected to the Royal cause, but they could not 
 see, without some misgivings, the lodgement of 
 so considerable a body of troops within their 
 walls. The fear of hard privations crept on 
 the minds of many, for the supplies of pro- 
 visions in the town were far from plentiful. 
 These were not easy to be procured at this
 
 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 season of the year, in what might almost be called 
 a beleaguered town, not even by the force of 
 wealth, in which some of the Royal leaders were 
 by no means deficient. The farmers in the ad- 
 joining districts, terrified at the near approach 
 of the Parliament forces, who often made a clean 
 sweep of the good things of the land, began to 
 conceal their stocks of corn ; and often had the 
 foraging parties returned to the walls empty 
 handed. At present, however, in spite of 
 these gloomy presages, ere famine came like 
 an armed man, there was excitement and joy 
 in the place. Many of the soldiers, the Castle 
 being too small to contain the entire force, were 
 billeted on the dwellings of the narrow, dark, 
 dirty streets, that wound in a circular sweep 
 round the lofty hill. A few of these, belonging 
 to the wealthier inhabitants, were of coarse 
 stone, with tiled roofs, and deep, arched, and 
 diminutive windows, that, like those of many a 
 castle of the time, would have baffled a can- 
 non ball. At the back of the confined streets, 
 the hill sloped down into the fair and spa>
 
 STRATTON HILL. 249 
 
 cious valley watered by the Tamar. Lovely 
 and smiling was the scene that opened from 
 many a dingy chamber and rough hewn portal 
 of wood, of the houses that stood on the brink of 
 this slope, down whose verdant sides now stream- 
 ed the lights, and mingled voices of merriment 
 came. In one of these apartments was now 
 seated a jovial and motley company. On the 
 naked walls and black rafters were hung many 
 a helm and weapon, and the few hardy soldiers 
 who owned them sat round a misshapen table, 
 near the open-door, with the tenants of the 
 dwelling ; they leaned forward eagerly on the 
 table, discussing the contents of a large stone 
 pitcher of strong ale, which they lifted by turns 
 to their lips. A few wooden utensils were 
 ranged along a rude shelf, beneath which, her 
 head almost shouldering them away from the 
 wall, sat a short, squat, matron-like woman, her 
 hands rigidly clasped on her lap, and her looks 
 fixed calmly on the soldiers. From the wedged 
 position in which she sat, she might be taken 
 for one of the mummies in its ancient case. 
 M 5
 
 250 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 There was a concentred fire, however, in her eye, 
 that, it was evident, any accidental spark might 
 strike into a flame. The fact was, her good 
 man had been seized with the mania of loyalty, 
 and, leaving his peaceful occupation, had as- 
 sumed his pike and joined the forces ; a huge 
 cat, seated beside her on the same high stool 
 beneath the shelf, seemed to regard the 
 boisterous soldiers as calmly, yet as inveterate- 
 ly, as her mistress; and, as the sounds rung 
 louder at intervals through the low room, 
 erected her back, and stood fiercely ready to 
 avenge this intrusion on the wonted stillness 
 of the mansion. Her only son too, a youth of 
 about fifteen, had followed his sire's example ; 
 and with dismay the dame saw that loyalty 
 might be a fair thing in proud castles, or in 
 the open field, but occasioned fearful disorder 
 within the wooden walls of her domicile. From 
 her youth up, she had known nothing but peace 
 there, and had looked over the steep, down the 
 valley, morn and eve, with the same contented 
 mind : the low wall that protected the founda-
 
 STRATTON HILL. 251 
 
 tion of her dwelling, with the verdant slope that 
 often crumbled down with the heavy rains, 
 had been the extent of her wandering. She 
 had beheld the river flood all its banks beneath, 
 and pitied the case of many an unhappy cottage 
 around which the floods gathered, and com- 
 pared it exultingly to her own elevated one. 
 But the tide of war now swept away every 
 barrier ; often the clash of weapons and the 
 proud voices of armed men had been heard 
 above her head on the Castle steep, but now 
 they came on her own rude earthen floor. The 
 party, both of young and old, seemed to enter 
 entirely into the spirit of the hour : they laugh- 
 ed, and pledged healths, and sung discordant 
 songs, till the low roof rang again. Highly 
 and gaily was King Charles toasted, and the 
 hardy Puritans sent with many an execration to 
 their own place. The owner of the mansion 
 was an elderly man with a hard hand and a 
 wrinkled brow ; a stoop in his shoulders made 
 him look older than his still vigorous frame 
 warranted : with his arms outstretched on
 
 252 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 the table, and his hand grasping tliat of 
 a rude soldier opposite, while his matted 
 beard swept the naked board, he uttered 
 vows of fidelity to the standard that waved 
 above, mingled with many a threat. At 
 his side, his shrill voice mingling with the 
 deep tones of his father, was the only son, his 
 ruddy face and blue eye swimming with de- 
 light at the stern words he heard, and the joy 
 of being freed from his hard daily drudgery, by 
 going forth with the host to fight. Directly 
 opposite to them was a war-worn and hard- 
 featured man, his heavy helm drooping low on 
 his deeply-lined forehead, and the thin white 
 locks straggling in view from beneath. There 
 was no mistaking the veteran Andrews : his 
 large, bony left hand grasped the pitcher, 
 while he abandoned his right to the cordial 
 shakes and squeezes of his hoary entertainer, 
 with whom he had been acquainted in youht. 
 His bushy brow sunk heavily over his large eye, 
 which he turned from one to the other of the
 
 STRATTON HILL. 253 
 
 party with an expression of complacency and 
 patronage. The deep, short laugh at times, 
 though it scarcely opened his lips, told the 
 secret exultation he felt at seeing his words 
 and promises so eagerly received : they had, 
 in truth, kindled a flame that it was not easy 
 to quench. Beside him, round the board, sat a 
 few of his military comrades, men far younger 
 than himself: it was evident, the deference they 
 paid him was due to his somewhat higher rank 
 in the force, as well as to the long and severe 
 experience he had known. 
 
 " Your ale is good, by the Norman banner ! 
 my old host," said Andrews, " and its powers 
 o' way yet to the bottom. This is the way 
 soldiers live, you see : the long march, the 
 weary step, and then the cheering can, — the 
 life has thriven well with me, has it not ?" 
 
 " Ah, Master Andrews," said the host, 
 " ye 're a lucky man : the velyas (fairies) ha' 
 bin about your walkin' and had the leadin' ye 
 — husil ol war luhas — their counsel on your
 
 254 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 head — to think o' the powers o' doins you've 
 had, and now to ha' the bearin' o* the standard, 
 aneist his own side ! Areire, 'tis wondersome 1" 
 
 *' Tas tavas velyas," came forth a shrill voice 
 from beneath the shelf, " dare ye speak o' the 
 velyas, and they 're harkin' aneist the coin, or in 
 the luth outside o' the shadow o' the wall : hark to 
 the sound o' runnin"* feet, 'tis no cremmin o' the 
 waters in thebottom,nor theflawin' river. — Neck- 
 lis, ye Ve done enough to bring undule and sor- 
 rowness to our holdin' : but hush ! the moon is 
 glory in' in the hill- side ; the wind is lyin' in the 
 thistle leaves; the King's men are quiet from 
 their boastin' upon the Castle rock. In their 
 awn hour, the velyas are croonin' and skeelin' 
 with their bright eye by the door : feerce will 
 that eye be upon sitch doins." 
 
 A sudden paleness overspread each martial 
 countenance at these words ; their own accents, 
 after a long pause, came dull and tremulously 
 forth : the spell of the gay moment was broken, 
 and the incensed dame, like the fairies she 
 spoke of, had done her bidding. The huge
 
 STRATTON HILL. S55 
 
 Stone pitcher stood untouched, and the men 
 stared on one another, and hstened to some 
 sound they fancied they heard from without. 
 There was a dead silence throughout the low 
 chamber, broken only by the clashing of a 
 heavy sword on the floor, as the wearer turned 
 anxiously to gaze on each side. 
 
 " Necklis," the voice began again, " ken ye 
 your awn doins, or your onlie child's beside ye ? 
 — he, a man o' war, or you, as grey as the 
 grey cliff by the stream ; ye 're leavin' me lone 
 as the pyat in his bed o** wood." 
 
 Such was the implicit and awful belief given 
 to the velyas, or fairies of the West, in the pro- 
 vinces of Cornwall and Devon, that the hardiest 
 soldier dared not rebel against their influence, 
 or question their commands. Their rule was 
 more rife in the cottage than the palace; 
 though the noble as well as the high " ladye," 
 have often turned pale in the fear of their ma- 
 lice: happy were they who could secure their 
 kind spell, or believe themselves to be the ob- 
 jects of it, which was much the same thing.
 
 ^6 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 The tenants of the cottage that stood on the lone 
 moor, or by the green hill-side, were the most 
 blessed in this respect : the faith in these gra- 
 cious, or malicious beings, was, of course, either, 
 as the humours took them, and made a part 
 of their very existence. The miner descended 
 to his deep and dangerous employ with alacrity 
 and hope, when he deemed the velyas smiled 
 upon his enterprise, and he fully expected that 
 the rich ore would quickly glitter in his eye. 
 The fisherman wended his way to his fishing- 
 grounds, trolling with a light heart as he went, 
 some ancient lay, in the confidence, of finding 
 his nets well laden. Even the smuggler'^s fierce 
 eye looked far and more ardently to seaward, 
 sur^ that the waves would soon bring the bark 
 in view ; for the fairies had been seen to dance 
 in a charmed circle on the white sea-beach, 
 where his cottage stood, the evening before. 
 The cruel wrecker was a firm believer in their 
 power ; and when the moonlight was on the 
 wave, that came without noise to the shore, and 
 the sea moaned heavily at eve, he sallied forth
 
 STRATTON HILL. 257 
 
 cautiously beneath the rocks to listen, and in the 
 rising blast often fancied he heard the sounds or 
 footstep of these beings, — the tokens of a coming 
 wreck. The master of the house now looked to 
 his spouse, then to the hill-side without the 
 door ; no breeze came moaning by, and the 
 distant rushing of the river was but faintly 
 heard : he strove to speak, but the power failed 
 him ; and the pike on which his hand had been 
 laid, sunk powerless by his side. Andrews, at 
 last, roused by a mingled feeling of shame and 
 confusion, summoned courage. 
 
 " Tresidder, this is child's play : I Ve been 
 where these things are nothing thought of ; and 
 I don't believe," with a visible quaver of voice, 
 " that is, I 've been so long away, that it 's 
 gone out o' mind, as one may say. So — hark ! 
 that 's the rounds calling in the Castle above ; 
 ay, there 's the sound of the trumpet —ha, ha ! 
 no quiverin' o' feet, or whisperin' o' voices. 
 I 'm glad you 've taken heart, Tresidder, to 
 carry pike for the King ; — a man's never too old 
 or too young for that."
 
 258 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 " That 's o' my mind. Master Andrews ; I ''m 
 a strong man, you see, still, pure and mightie ; 
 I bin a ditcher and plougher, and from my 
 yerly days ha' roosted in this holdin' that ha' 
 fended Margy, and me, and the boy, a leu bit 
 as 'tis ; and now we 're goin', you say, to march 
 to the sea and the coast, that my eye never 
 kenned, and gie the cruel crop-ears their " 
 
 " Into the sea, Tresidder, — into the sea with 
 them : you shall see things that '11 make your 
 old eye glisten like the cat's there, that's keep- 
 in' company with your good dame. — Reseigh, 
 was 'nt that my Lord's word, * No rest,' says he, 
 * to the sole of our foot, while the enemy ha' 
 got a foot of our land ?' " 
 
 " He did," said the soldier, " they 've harried 
 my father's dwellin' in the North, and they 
 shall gie dear pay in' back, if wonce my pike 
 gits aneist 'em. I '11 think upon the ould man's 
 burnin' wall, the rafter that ha' stood so pure a 
 time, the furze rick, the turf stack, the arlont 
 — Welas hada (well, alas !) the place is wisht 
 and undulin, that was so comelie o' yore."
 
 STRATTON HILL. 259 
 
 " And what right ha' they to do that?" said 
 the host, — " to come harryin' a tidy gwythy 
 land ; that was my say in' : to-day, says I, here's 
 our restin': the stream dripplin' through the 
 bottom : the hill-side all shinin' wi' cowlis and 
 dellas, (daisies and flowers) and afore the night's 
 ower, maybe, the hill, our hill afore the door, 
 may be ringin' wi' the tramplin' o' feet, and all 
 like a ploughed croft. — And ye wudden be ga- 
 therin' yerself up there, Margy, like a badger 
 in his hole. — Givis some ale ; we '11 ha' a quaffin' 
 afore the dark is ower." 
 
 " Ale," replied the dame, rising, however, to 
 fill the huge pitcher ; " ye 've got the onlie drop 
 aneath the rafter, so mak' the farnest of 'en. 
 Ye 're gwein whare ye '11 be joyd to git a drap 
 to coolde your burnin' tongue : a pike in yer 
 limbs, and aterwards you '11 be kovined wi' a 
 pitchfork into the pit o' darkness. And for 
 that stranger there beside; ha' you no childe or 
 wyfe, ould man, to quelle yer heart, or bring 
 down the pride o' your eye." 
 
 The veteran seemed proof against this attack;
 
 260 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 and seizing the pitcher, took a long and hearty 
 draught. " And now," he said, " by way o' 
 company to the good ale, let's rise some old 
 ditty, comrades : I know but one, that I \^e 
 sung ayond the sea, of my countrymen going 
 against Harry the Vllth, to set up William de 
 la Pole, the Earl of Suffolk: they were six thou- 
 sand strong, armed with bows and arrows, the 
 latter three feet long,* — they fell most of them 
 in the bloody day o' Blackheath .■" 
 
 He then began, all the others joining him, 
 the old ditty, in the provincial tongue, of 
 which the following is a free translation — Pytet 
 drylyas mear Tudor: haga trethe ha da 
 venyn, 
 
 The "Western men are marching on. 
 With bended bow and flashing eye ; 
 
 To give La Pole the Tudor's throne. 
 And quell proud Harry's tyranny. 
 
 * Hollinshed says, "That at the battle of Black- 
 heath, between the Royal troops and the Cornish insur- 
 gents, the bridge of Dartford was defended by a picked 
 band of rebel archers, whose arrows were in length a fuU 
 cloth yard."
 
 STRATTON HILL. 261 
 
 Their colours stream on Launson*s wall. 
 And Audley's haughty banner 's there ; 
 While swiftly, to his own loved hall. 
 Rush desolation and despair. 
 
 Loud rings the portal's massive arch. 
 They hasten to the Tamar's wave ; 
 
 And all alone, unaided, march. 
 
 Fierce Henry on his throne to brave. 
 
 The wail is loud in cot and tower. 
 They come no more ! they come no more ! 
 
 Lord Audley's bride, within her bower. 
 Weeps that her love's young hope is o'er. 
 
 They fell on Blackheath's fatal field. 
 And died as gallant men should die ; 
 
 Once more we 'U take the spear and shield. 
 Earl Suffolk be the battle cry ! 
 
 Whether this was the whole of the ditty or 
 not, is uncertain; for just at this moment the 
 deep and discordant voices of the party, as they 
 joined in the chorus " Once more we'll take," was 
 interrupted by a sudden and startling sound. 
 It was a distant peal of laughter from the Castle 
 steep above their heads, repeated and rendered 
 half unearthly by the echoes of the surrounding 
 rocks. It came faint and ominously into the
 
 ^6S STRATTON HILL. 
 
 low, narrow chamber, whose door and window 
 were both open to the night air : each deemed it 
 the laugh of the fairies. Dark and untimely, it 
 is ever thought, will be the fate of him who, on 
 the moor, the hill side, or beneath his own still 
 roof, hears towards morn the piercing, heartless 
 laugh of the velyas. Even the face of the ve- 
 teran turned deadly pale ; he looked on each of 
 his companions, on whose lips the " spear and 
 shield" of the song had trembled and died like 
 words of dismal omen : his own weighty hand, 
 uplifted to give force to the song, was arrested 
 in mid air : " 'Tis not for myself," he muttered, 
 " that I fear any foreboding ; but for him : 
 God sain his head, and uplift his banner !" As 
 for Tresidder, he gazed with open mouth and 
 moveless limbs, not on the moonlight or the 
 grassy bank without, but on the huge and nearly 
 full stone pitcher he held with a grasp as tight 
 as if he grappled a mortal enemy in the field. 
 The dame alone came forth from her resting- 
 place, trembling but triumphant; her attitude 
 no more rigid and calm, but bold and menacing.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 26S 
 
 " You war loath to take warnin' ; yeVe 
 harkind to what isn' o' the yerth, or the sky 
 above ; and dreir is the foreboding to all o' ye. 
 But for that bloody man, that ould and sore 
 temter, that ha' bringd this trouble to our quiet 
 roofe— '' 
 
 " Call me not a bloody man, good woman," 
 said Andrews, wholly overcome by his own 
 fears : " a hard man I ha' been ; but — but 
 what ye say is heard, and will be taken count 
 of, maybe, by other ears.'^ 
 
 '' And you got the grace to say so,*' she said, 
 waxing bolder. " Oh, to see the proud heart o' 
 man like a mill stone, made to milt like water. 
 Areire, I'm talkin' wi' pride," with a visible 
 quaver of tone, " and I 'm owerheard by them 
 that ha' no bidin' o' high words from ane o' tlie 
 yerth. — You arena so begone as to go forth," 
 she said to Andrews, seeing him resuming his 
 arms, " into the gUmmer o' the clear moon, ater 
 what 's come." 
 
 The veteran paused as if some early remem- 
 brance had come over him, laid down his helm
 
 264 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 and sword again, and sat doggedly at the board 
 with a sullen look, averting his eyes from the 
 green bank without, on which the dew had 
 fallen heavily. 
 
 The dame, with somewhat the air of an In- 
 dian savage in his covert, darting her glance 
 wildly from side to side, as if afraid to rest it 
 on any hostile thing, made her way to the low 
 door, closed it softly and carefully, and next 
 the window ; then, conscious in her heart that 
 the passion of her husband and son was effec- 
 tually cooled, and that her roof would not be 
 made desolate, disposed of her tranquil guests 
 as best suited the convenience of her mansion ; 
 and repose, or the semblance of it, soon came 
 down upon all. 
 
 On the morrow, the slanting sun-beams had 
 scarcely entered his dull abode, when the inmate 
 of the Castle cell was led forth to be examined be- 
 fore the Royal officers ; as much courtesy was 
 shown him as could be expected, when treachery 
 within the walls was to be guarded against as 
 well as the enemy without. On entering the dark
 
 STRATTON HILL. ^65 
 
 and ancient hall where the officers were assem- 
 bled, he cast around a hurried and agitated 
 glance, and his face became yet more pale. 
 Despotic power, especially when lodged in the 
 hands of men whom every moment may summon 
 to their own or others' deaths, is always a fearful 
 thing to face ; and when the prisoner gazed on 
 the stern and hostile looks of many a cavalier, 
 and the mailed array of all, he thought he had 
 seldom been in a more fearful strait. 
 
 '' You are suspected,'' said the General, " of 
 a correspondence with the enemy, who are on 
 their march to attack this fortress." 
 
 " It is a foul suspicion,"' he replied, *' and is 
 belied by the whole of my past conduct and 
 character." 
 
 " You will not deny," was the answer, " that 
 you have served in the enemy's ranks; that 
 you have played no mean part in this wicked 
 rebellion ? What brings you within these walls, 
 at this critical moment ? Is it not to serve the 
 cause to which you are devoted ?" 
 
 " He has the tone and bearing of a determin- 
 
 VOL. 1. N
 
 266 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 ed rebel,'' observed Mohun ; " a short shrift 
 would be the safest award." 
 
 *' Ay, my Lord Mohun," the accused replied, 
 " 'twere easy to make a short shrift with a sin- 
 gle and defenceless man in the midst of this 
 martial array. Yet that voice should be for 
 gentle deeds, my Lord ; for it was long ere the 
 die was cast, whether your banner should wave 
 for the prince or for his subjects, and yet no 
 scath came to your house or lineage. Stanley 
 did wisely at Bosworth field, when he charged 
 for Richm©nd, just as fortune wandered to 
 his side." 
 
 " This is trifling," said Hopton : " say briefly 
 what brought you to this town ; and why, having 
 been in arms as a rebel, you come stealthily, 
 perhaps from Stamford's camp, a secret spy, 
 to poison the loyal minds of the inhabitants. 
 If so, you say truly that your shrift will be 
 short." 
 
 " I had no motive of this kind. General ; but 
 came to this town, in my way to my own resi- 
 dence, before your force had entered it. I
 
 STRATTON HILL. ^67 
 
 have been treated as a felon, as the vilest 
 criminal ; suffered to linger for days and weeks 
 in that wretched cell, without knowing of what 
 I was accused ; — I say again, that I left the 
 ranks of a brave and oppressed people volun- 
 tarily, because I saw the ambitious designs 
 of their leaders, and >the ceaseless bloodshed 
 they would bring on my country ; and think 
 you that I would stoop to be a spy to the 
 luxurious Stamford ; that I would crouch with- 
 in these walls in order to bring ravage and 
 the sword beneath their peaceful roofs ? I see 
 that I am not believed. — Colonel Trevanion, 
 you will speak for me." 
 
 ^he latter then spoke strongly and decidedly 
 in favour of the accused ; that he was incapable 
 of the charge imputed to him ; that though an 
 enthusiast and a republican, as his past and 
 present conduct proved, he was of too open 
 and honourable a spirit to engage in any secret 
 designs or traitorous correspondence with the 
 adverse force; and he concluded by strongly 
 urging his being set at liberty. 
 N 2
 
 268 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 These words made an impression on the as- 
 sembly, though the opinion of the speaker did 
 not seem to be that of several of the officers, 
 who thought it might be ill-judged, as well as 
 dangerous, to allow him to go at large, fully in- 
 formed as to the state and number of the garri- 
 son, while the enemy was on the march into the 
 heart of the province. He was required to 
 pledge himself never again to take up arms 
 against the royal cause, and to hold no inter- 
 course with the repubhcans. This he peremp- 
 torily refused ; and was about to be remanded 
 to his prison, when Sir Beville Granville, who 
 had attentively regarded him for some time, 
 interposed, and pledged himself for his good 
 conduct. 
 
 " Thanks, more than tongue can express," 
 said the latter, in a voice that faltered with 
 emotion ; " my foot has long been on the heath 
 and shore, free and unfettered as the sea-bird's 
 wing, and I dread that gloomy cell, even as the 
 valley of the shadow of death, for there is but a 
 step between them. Again I shall breathe the
 
 STRATTON HILL. 269 
 
 pure air of my native hills, listen to the wild 
 waves'* roar, and gaze on the heavens, whose dim 
 ray has seldom entered my grated window. For 
 these blessings, Lord of Stowe, I am indebted 
 to you ; for your sake I could wish well to the 
 banner that droops above your head, and pray 
 that your path may be one of light and victory 
 — but it may not be !"" 
 
 " And why not ?" said the latter ; " why may 
 it not be one of light and victory ? I am de- 
 ceived in those features, if they do not betoken 
 a sincere and devoted spirit : speak, then, with- 
 out disguise or fanaticism : report says that you 
 have gained experience in many a distant and 
 perilous land; but to foresee future events is 
 hardly among your acquisitions." 
 
 " It needs not to be a fanatic or prophet," 
 said the latter firmly, " to foretel the issue of 
 this contest : the sword that was first drawn by 
 the Sovereign, will not be sheathed till it is 
 steeped in the blood of the highest and the no- 
 blest. Where a people fight ruthlessly for their 
 liberty and faith, the two choicest gifts of God,
 
 270 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 the throne and the sceptre must, in the end, go 
 down before them. I will not say, with some 
 zealots, there is a vial of wrath poured out on 
 the haughty Court ; but no one can deny the 
 blind fatality, the stern obduracy that actuate 
 the prince and his counsellors, as if fate, like a 
 spectre, stood at their side, and urged them on. 
 When I saw the success of the day at Edgehill 
 snatched, against hope, out of his hands, and 
 the melancholy aspect with which he bade his 
 shattered squadrons retire, I said, Heaven has 
 set its seal on that anointed brow, but not for 
 glory or dominion !'' 
 
 " Dreaming fatalist !'' said the nobleman he 
 addressed, " I would, for my King's sake, that 
 all your associates were of the same mind, and 
 trusted to destiny rather than to their good 
 swords and deep-laid designs! — That banner, 
 believe me, will never droop to a rebel's hand." 
 
 " It will never droop, my Lord, while the 
 hand that has burst my fetters sustains it; but 
 defeat and disaster will, ere long, be gathered 
 around it, by those who strike for a broken law
 
 STRATTON HILL. 271 
 
 and a violated hearth. Some of the stern and 
 unpitying eyes that are now turned on me, will 
 be hfted to others for pity,— to men who will not 
 spare ; and this mailed and glittering array will 
 feel the ravages of the sword, as when the voice 
 of the warrior is turned to mourning, and his 
 garments are rolled in blood." 
 
 " Should these words come to pass, it will be 
 no more than the fortune of war, ever chang- 
 ing," was the cold but not angry reply; and 
 after a few words with the General, it was sig- 
 nified to him by the latter, that he was at Uberty, 
 on condition that he instantly quitted the town 
 and neighbourhood. 
 
 He bowed gratefully to the two commanders, 
 by whose interference this boon had been granted, 
 and quitting the fortress, descended with an 
 eager step the declivity, and was soon without 
 the gates ; and every pathless tract, far as his 
 eye could reach, was open to his choice. But 
 the war had now changed the character of these 
 hitherto peaceful places : as he passed onward, 
 he met in many a bottom, and on the face of
 
 272 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 many a waste, small parties of the natives 
 eagerly hastening to the head-quarters of the 
 force, like as he had seen the gathering of the 
 Bedouins from the depths of their deserts, when 
 some rival tribe is to be opposed, and band after 
 band issues forth on the sandy wild, from be- 
 hind rock, palm-grove, and hillock. More than 
 once Carries was startled, as he came in sight of 
 some well-known hamlet, to find the tenants 
 " arrayed for the field,'^ quitting their thres- 
 holds, or rapidly winding along some narrow 
 gully washed by the frequent rains. From the 
 very depths of the earth they were seen ascend- 
 ing, with looks gleaming like those of angry Tri- 
 tons from the deep, whose appearance they did 
 not a little resemble, their woollen garments, as 
 well as their dishevelled locks, dripping fast with 
 water they had imbibed below. They had seiz- 
 ed the heavy instruments with which they phed 
 their work, and, crowding together, demanded, 
 with fierce shouts, to be led against the enemy. 
 The scene where this occurred was worthy of 
 the character of the men ; in the face of dark
 
 STRATTON HILL. 273 
 
 cliffs, and on the bosom of the Northern Sea, 
 even below its waves, were the excavations of 
 these hardy miners carried. The storms that 
 roared hoarsely above their heads, when the 
 wind was on-shore, did not prevent their carry- 
 ing on their perilous but lucrative employ. 
 
 The news came suddenly that Sir Beville was 
 in the field, and had raised his banner for the 
 King ; the intelhgence kindled every spirit in 
 an instant. As he heard their wild cries from 
 beneath, he bent over the face of the precipice, 
 at whose feet the wave rolled heavily ; and saw 
 the rugged forms of these men, as they waved 
 their heavy weapons in the air, and summoned 
 their companions on every side. At every mo- 
 ment, some dark figure, with its ample garments, 
 started from beneath the surface of the earth, 
 or from some butting crag, and ranged itself 
 beside those of its comrades, with many a wild 
 word and gesture. Then breasting the steep 
 ascent, they quickly stood on the turf above, a 
 united and desperate body. On quitting the 
 spot, and entering on the thinly inhabited parts 
 N 5
 
 274 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 of the country, the traveller's progress was more 
 calm, for each sight and sound seemed to have 
 passed away ; and it was with no small pleasure 
 he at last perceived the smoke of a cottage in the 
 distance.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 275 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Here were a long-tried pair, who seem'd to live 
 With more respect than affluence can give. 
 He married not ; and yet he well approved 
 The social state : but she had rashly loved." 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 The evenings were fast growing longer in the 
 little village of Kilkhampton as "well as in the 
 world around it ; true, they were " often damp 
 and chill with drizzling rain ;" and not yet did 
 the thrifty but comfort-loving inhabitants choose 
 to lay aside their " handful of firing," where- 
 with to cheer the lagging hour of night ; for, 
 paradox as it may seem, in this mildest of pro- 
 vinces the people are the most susceptible to 
 the temperature, and the chilliest in Britain's 
 Isle. The leaves, and then the blossoms, had 
 begun to appear on the ro\Vs of ancient oaks and 
 other trees in the church-yard ; the black thorn
 
 S76 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 was thickly invested in its pure white and frag- 
 rant shrouds at least a month sooner than in 
 any other part of the land. It was evening, and 
 the twilight, that had just commenced, gave 
 sufficient clearness to every object, and added 
 a softness of its own, when, in the most lordly- 
 looking dwelling of the village, and situated 
 just in its centre, sat two personages of great 
 respectability and of unstained reputation. They 
 were seated much at their ease in the front par- 
 lour, whose single window looked forth on the 
 venerable cemetery ; the church and tower also 
 rose finely in the back-ground, and reminded Mr. 
 Arthur Trenlyon and his sister, who were now 
 gazing on them, of their own mortality. Not 
 that this was the idea that now occupied their 
 minds : far otherwise ; the hopes, the preten- 
 sions, the ambitions of the world, not forgetting 
 their own, appeared to form the subjects of their 
 present converse. The comforts of this tran- 
 sitory state were not wholly forgotten; for both 
 heir and heiress of the ancient line of Trenlyon, 
 finding themselves deprived of the sundry sweet
 
 STRATTON HILL. 277 
 
 and consoling pleasures of the wedded life, seem- 
 ed to be resolved to indemnify themselves by 
 picking up as many other indulgences as pos- 
 sible by the way. A coarse and scanty carpet 
 covered the middle of the oaken floor, and even 
 Miss Damsen (the provincial abbreviation of 
 Tomasine) might have made shift to do with- 
 out the small and strange-looking mirror in 
 which she daily and sometimes hourly gazed 
 on her charms, so nicely, so brilliantly was the 
 said floor shined and bescoured. 
 
 In the chimney burned beautifully vivid and 
 clear a luxurious fire, consisting of a ground- 
 work of dried turf, a superstructure of wood 
 cut from their own estate, and a sprinkling of 
 furze from the adjoining common thrown over 
 the whole. The twilight, stealing down the low 
 and broad chimney, lingered on its dark side, 
 and seemed to mingle with and soften the glare 
 of the flame, that rose in a thin volume, and 
 rendered candles as yet unnecessary. The table 
 was covered with a clean and sufficiently white 
 cloth, and sustained viands both of the light
 
 278 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 and substantial kind; for they composed the 
 latest meal of the day, called the evening. The 
 two inmates sat at this table opposite each 
 other, their faces gradually fading more and 
 more into indistinctness. A stranger would 
 perhaps have judged, from the occasional " im- 
 pression" of their manner to each other, that 
 they were man and wife; but a close observation 
 for a short time would have made him abandon 
 the idea. There was a reason, however, for 
 this mutual complaisance at times, in the fact, 
 that they had been left by their sire with a 
 property independent of each other; that is, for 
 their mortal life only ; for if either happened 
 to die without heirs, and out of the wedded 
 state, of which blessings the hopes could now 
 be but faint, the possessions went to the sur- 
 vivor. This conviction often placed them both 
 in that enviable and delicious state of feeling, 
 of striving against the grain, to pay little atten- 
 tions and kindnesses ; to appear extremely soli- 
 citous about the other's temporal comfort, at 
 the same time that each felt a secret hankering
 
 STRATTON HILL. 279 
 
 to call the goodly patrimony all their own. 
 But here they reckoned without their host ; for, 
 having lived beneath the same roof so many years, 
 bachelor and maid, and looked morn and eve 
 in the same well-known face, nor marked how 
 time took delight in adding every now and then 
 a wrinkle, to part suddenly would have felt 
 like severing a limb. Then the little bickerings 
 that sweetened many a repast, at each other's or 
 their neighbours' expense, and the lengthened 
 dwelling on the favourite topic, as the night 
 closed in—all these solaces would expire with 
 the last breath either of these last branches of 
 the Trenlyons drew, and the survivor would be 
 left in all the pride of desolation, like Ossian's 
 Selma, " forlorn on the hill of winds— there is 
 silence around me, and the pleasant faces and 
 words that were with me are departed." 
 
 Long fellowship together in the hereditary 
 mansion,— for their parents had died early, — 
 had indeed created a kindliness of feeling, that 
 would find its way when no ancient prejudice 
 or pleasant prospect thwarted its exercise.
 
 280 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 The brother might be said to be the more 
 generous spirit of the two, and might per- 
 chance have cut a more splendid figure on the 
 theatre of life, had he not been withheld by 
 the dominant attachment to things as well as 
 beings of the olden time, that seemed, in the 
 several remains and fragments that still stood 
 on his own domain and neighbourhood, to exist 
 and breathe again before his mental eye. 
 
 Then there was a lustre also that he could 
 not but persuade himself attached to hit own = 
 person in some measure, from his being the 
 hereditary and lonely possessor of some of these 
 remains, where many a famed warrior had trod- 
 den. To visit them and muse on them, was the 
 chief luxury of his idle life — for he had little 
 to do. The lady was now seated in her wonted 
 easy chair, on the side nearest the fire, on 
 which she every now and then cast an ap- 
 proving eye. On the table before her stood 
 a pewter vessel of goodly size, with a handle 
 and cover ; it contained not spiced Gascoyne 
 wine, neither was it drawn from " the hogges-
 
 STRATTON HILL. - 281 
 
 hede of swete wine, nor sider, bere, or ale,"" 
 all of which were in the cellar, and each 
 formed a beseeming draught for a delicate fe- 
 male of the day ; but it held a warm infusion 
 of herbs of approved flavour and wholesome- 
 ness, namely, of thyme, balm, and mint, that 
 grew, cultivated by her fair hand itself, in a 
 rude kind of garden behind the dwelling. Tea 
 had not yet found its way into this since tea- 
 loving province, where it now forms the staple 
 article of diet; and had Miss Damsen met in* 
 another scene with some gossip that flourished 
 in the village in after years, she would have 
 mourned with tears her hard fate, in having 
 quitted the earth ere she had tasted it : as Api- 
 cius, in his dialogue there with a more modern 
 epicure, wept to think he had never known turtle- 
 soup. Still this infusion, the mingled fragrance 
 of which stole through the whole apartment, 
 might be called home-made tea, being a savoury 
 substitute thereof, and was rendered addition- 
 ally palatable to the fair lips that sipped it, 
 by a trifling addition of good Hollands from a
 
 282 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 silver cup beside, as she found the raw even- 
 ings rendered the latter an excellent stomachic. 
 A flat cake, just baked on the hearth, and of a 
 richness and crispness of aspect that would 
 have tempted a Norman knight, flanked the 
 aforesaid fluids. 
 
 " Arthur," she said, in one of the pauses of 
 her leisurely meal, which she loved to prolong, 
 " 'tis pleasant to see the days lengthening in 
 this here manner, that one can do without can- 
 dles amost till bed-time ; they 're sitch a waste- 
 ful thing in winter." 
 
 " And fires too," said the other ; " the wood 
 upon Treginnis estate is mostly cut down ; 
 though, when I was a boy, I was used to run 
 about there among the tall elms and chesnuts ; 
 and now there's a mere shred, a spalin' left, 
 and the young plantations were all killed by 
 the east wind last December." 
 
 " You know, Arthur," she replied, " we like 
 to live comfortable ; that fire does one's heart 
 good to look at it. If we had choosed to live 
 like the Pengillins, in their great house down
 
 STRATTON HILL. 283 
 
 in the bottom, sere win' and pinchin', you might 
 ha' saved all your wood. I 'm sure when I 
 go into the great hall, and the wind streams 
 in behind me, and not a clisp o' fire in the cold 
 chimlie, the old armour of their forebears upon 
 the wall rattles with the cold ; it makes my 
 bones shiver. And theyVe a proud set too, 
 but it 's a come down, say what they will, and 
 their livin' isn't much better than their firin'; 
 — they 're not sitch an ancient line as ours.'** 
 
 " Not by four centuries and a half, sister, 
 and nothing so noble, — for all their house 
 down in the bottom is so roomy and strong; 
 other lords have sat beside the hearth, that in- 
 termarried with, and at last ousted them. 
 'Twas only in Mary's reign that a branch 
 of the old family came back, but they were 
 never the same again : the last son, a thriftless 
 wight, had married the daughter of a rich wool- 
 len factor in London : they 're sore humbled : I 
 never go nigh the gate." 
 
 " They can't say that of our roof-tree, that 
 has stood in Kilkhampton long before an-
 
 J?84 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 Other of any note stood there," was the reply ; 
 " there's no grandeurs about it ; small, maybe, 
 'tis, and lew and kindlie," with an approving 
 nod at the hearth, " and no stint o"' comfort." 
 
 The brother acquiesced in these remarks, by 
 a brief and indistinct approval ; and continued 
 to give more earnest proof of their truth by an 
 active assault on a venison pasty, for the contents 
 of which he was indebted to the gamekeeper of 
 Stowe : a flagon of strong ale stood beside. 
 
 " But why didn't you plant the young trees 
 in a lewer spot, in a sheltered clift, and not 
 upon the wild downs ?" the lady continued, 
 placing at the same time another taper log of 
 wood on the fire ; " they would have thriven 
 then. But you are a neglectful man o' your 
 farm, Arthur, and would, maybe, rather be 
 down in the Ivy-bush, wastin' your substance 
 like the prodigal son." 
 
 This was an unprovoked attack on the good 
 nature of the Squire, that had been more than 
 usually excited by the delicious viand before 
 him. He raised his head, and sent an angry
 
 STRATTON HILL. 285 
 
 glance at the speaker ; but it fell only on the 
 vestments with which she was clad, as her 
 slender figure was half lost in the thin shroud 
 of smoke that now slowly rose ; but his cheek 
 was still red when she had reseated herself. 
 
 " Isn't my substance my own, to do what I 
 like with ? and you know I'm a temperate man, 
 and don't love wastin' ; and for the wood, who 's 
 to have forest, or field, or meadow, after I m 
 gone ? but I 've thought whiles of late 'twill be 
 better to leave an owner to them," 
 
 The silver cup, in which gentle herb and 
 ardent spirit had been skilfully blended, that 
 was at that moment being raised to her lips, 
 shook visibly in her hand at this intimation, 
 and a hue, like that in which wrath is chastened 
 by sorrow, mantled her pale cheek and brow. 
 
 " An owner to the Trenlyon estate, did you 
 say ? and who may that be, ye foolish — I would 
 say, ye thoughtless man ? Would you bring a 
 stranger under your father's roof, and one of no 
 descent nor blood, I warrant, comin' to darken 
 the hearth, where yerls and the nobility of
 
 286 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 the land have sat with satisfaction ? Foscarbis 
 downs too, and the furze croft, that was left by 
 your great aunt Cuny, in the year — 56, to go 
 to another ! I shall ne'er live to see it, nor will 
 you either : you daren 't do such a thing." 
 
 '^ And why not?" said the other, with grow- 
 ing energy ; " didn't all my kin and kift marry 
 before me ? why should I live and die like a 
 monk in a cell ? their day is gone by now, and 
 will ne'er be followed again. The last time I 
 was in the old ruin, it came over my mind, as I 
 looked round the mouldering walls." 
 
 " You're always dreamin' about the castle, 
 brother, and wanderin' down by there like a ghost 
 of one of the old knights : though ye don't eat 
 the pasty like a ghost, for all that. Be content 
 with your own quiet roof, and the comforts you 
 get there night and day. Tintagel is a drear 
 and a weary place : can ye find a drop o' good 
 ale, or a hot pasty among the grey stones ?" 
 
 " Tintayel I" he replied ; " I 've often re- 
 quested you'd call it so; being a softer and 
 more beseemin' name."
 
 STRATTON HILL. 287 
 
 *' And who, at your years, would think in 
 earnest about sitch a thing ? you wouldn 't throw 
 yerself away on a young baggage, that would 
 make a pretence of love to that wrinkled fore- 
 head and shinin' crop above ? Though ye might 
 na be Samson, she would be a Dalilah, — not for 
 your head of hair, Arthur, for there 's no great 
 matters left ; but for your good lie barns, and 
 ricks, and outhouses, that would fly away out o"* 
 your hand, like the loose straw ower the cliff in 
 a gust of wind. Maybe, that old faggot o' the 
 hostel, Dame Tonkin, that I 've warned ye of, 
 wants to trump her pale daughter upon ye .?" 
 
 These words were accompanied by suitable 
 energy of action : in truth, Damsen, though 
 doomed never more to see the fair and blissful 
 side of forty, was rather an imposing figure : the 
 cap that invested her head, rose pyramidically 
 high in front, and then hung on each side in 
 two graceful flaps, which fashion was, no doubt, 
 borrowed from the Normans and Britons on the 
 opposite coast : the said pendants were, by a 
 piece of extravagance, trimmed with lace, and
 
 288 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 had a comely air ; inclosed between them was 
 a face of an exceeding tart, fretted, and self- 
 indulged expression ; neither worn nor wasted, 
 however, and could boast somewhat of her bro- 
 ther's lofty forehead, and the same small grey 
 eye beneath. Around the brow, that bore the 
 signet of forty-three winters at least, but mildly, 
 as Nature bears them in that gentle clime — was 
 disposed a profusion of brown curling hair, in 
 which malice itself could as yet trace but few of 
 snowy hue ; a pair of enormous antique gold 
 rings seemed to pull her fair ears on each side, 
 in mutual emulation.
 
 STRATTON HILL. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 '* Gentle and simple, in her native place. 
 No one compared with her in form or face ; 
 She was not merry, but she gave our hearth 
 A cheerful spirit that was more than mirth." 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 The concluding words failed of the inflamma- 
 ble effect that might have been expected. Tren- 
 lyon heard them, but answered not ; they even 
 seemed to conjure up to his fancy a thousand 
 blissful things, for the image of the fair daugh- 
 ter of the inn floated vividly before him. He 
 had had many soft and moving thoughts about 
 her, had gazed on her beauty with exceeding 
 satisfaction ; and so far from recoiling at the 
 idea of such an alUance, he felt he could even 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 200 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 consent to quench for a time his pride of an- 
 cestry, in the certainty that the boon would re- 
 pay the sacrifice. But was this boon certain ? — 
 He leaned his head pensively on his hand, and 
 tlie light that bickered over his troubled fea- 
 tures, showed that hope wrestled there with 
 despair ; his large eyebrow fell closely over the 
 orb beneath, and a glance was at times shot 
 hurriedly from beneath, like as the spark bound- 
 ed at intervals from the dense foundation of turf 
 on the hearth. 
 
 " You need'n abuse tlie young woman,'' he 
 said at last ; " she 's the comehest in the village, 
 and the sweetest spoken too ; and that 's more 
 than all the rest of her kind are." 
 
 " Then you are thinkin' about her, and have 
 talked to her in your cups, down bye, no doubt, 
 about the substance of all the fair holdin' of 
 land, and the warm dwellin' over your head ; 
 but afore ever she puts her foot over the 
 threshold o' my fathers, that the ancient 
 Lords of Stowe have stepped over, mine shall 
 cross another^ and that you may reckon upon 

 
 STRA.TTON HILL. 291 
 
 I Ve been over-besoughten of late, by one that 
 shall be nameless." 
 
 "And whose threshold would ye cross, sister?" 
 said the other, roused from his apathy by the 
 idea of losing the other's goodly portion ; "it 
 won't be to find love within, neither by the 
 hearth side, nor in the sanded parlour, for you 
 are past the age o' that ; the bloom will ne'er 
 come back to your face, nor your spare figure 
 fill up again, as I knew it once : don't knit your 
 lips, and look fierce at me. Maybe, 'tis young 
 Penfrane, that has runned through all he had, 
 would persuade that you are but thirty, and 
 would like to put his foot over the fat acres out- 
 side the town ?" 
 
 " Penfrane of Nanswhydden," said the in- 
 sulted spinster, glad of an opening to vent her 
 gathering wrath ; " he's a low-born man, though 
 he's a seemlie figure : was'n his great grand- 
 father steward to old Sir Richard, the admiral, 
 when he lived in Bideford ; and would he dare 
 match with the Trenlyons, that never had a 
 stain ; that if they could speak out o' their cof-
 
 292 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 fins for the last five hundred years, would say 
 there 's no stranger's bones beside them to dis- 
 turb their quiet." 
 
 " You say well, sister ; but I have ob- 
 served him looking hard at times towards ye, 
 and sidling up along the path under the oaks 
 upon a Sunday ; maybe there 's one whose eye 
 is not so bright, nor his hair so black, of my 
 own age too, and would like to join your lands 
 to his own warm ones close by." 
 
 " And who are ye pointing to now .? Chin- 
 hayles of Trewardreva .? he\s a decent man, 
 and o' goodlie substance; but he left me, Arthur, 
 in my youth, for another that he thought had 
 a brighter eye and a sweeter tongue ; and I '11 
 ne'er forgive it now : he passes by in foul 
 weather and fair; and often I hear his heavy 
 step, and I mind it well, from old times ; and 
 he aye glowers in at the window, but 't wont 
 do; no, no, 'tis all in vain now." 
 
 " 'Twas a false thing," said the brother calm- 
 ly, " and can ne'er be forgotten. I meant no 
 offence in jcerin' a little about these things;
 
 STRATTON HILL. 293 
 
 and when I talked about the hostess's daughter, 
 — she 's a sweet patient creature, that would win 
 the heart of a mill-stone — it maybe was only 
 for sport, and I was vexed you thwarted me so 
 oft in going to the Ivy Bush of an evening, to 
 the cosie settle, to take a cheerful glass. She 's 
 aye there, Betsey ; but she's seldom cheerful, 
 and seldom smiles, but sits on the chimlie seat, 
 as if her love was beneath the wave where her 
 young husband lies, and the storm that perished 
 him had swept all hope from the earth for her."" 
 '' Arthur Trenlyon," said the other, hold- 
 ing up her finger in a Vv'arning mannr, "you are 
 a degenerate man. Arn't you ashamed to be 
 praisin' the baggage in that manner to me, as if 
 a lily skin was so invitin', when 'twas filled with 
 churl's blood ; and her black eye, that you. think 
 is lookin' aneath the wave, can see into your 
 heart, you simple man, and is lurin' ye to de- 
 struction ; you, that are always talking about 
 your ancient line, and the castle where they 
 were wont to dwell. Old King Arthur himself, 
 that ye boast of so much, would rise out of his 
 o 3
 
 294 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 grave to see sitch a creature allyin' with a 
 Trenlyon." 
 
 The latter was so overcome by this stern re- 
 ply, of which he could not but feel the justice, 
 that he made no return ; and the Lady con- 
 tinued with increasing bitterness. 
 
 " You remember,"' she said, v/hiie her voice 
 trembled itself at the remembrance, " it's now 
 twenty years agone, when young Trethewan of 
 Trebarva caiiS after me : he was the flower of 
 the parish, with a fresh blue eye, and a voice 
 like the bees gatherin' about the thyme, and he 
 had travelled far and wide, from the Tamar 
 down to the end o' the county, and to the islands 
 beyond, and he said he hadn't seen the thing 
 to compare with the one he sought, for I had 
 the pride o' the eye and the heart then, as well 
 as of blood, as ye mind well. But 'twas that 
 wrecked my happiness, and yon stood in the 
 way of it, and persuaded me he wasn't of ancient 
 descent, enough to match with me, because his 
 mother was a Reskymer of Penhallow, that 
 came out of Wales in Queen Elizabeth's time,
 
 STRATTON HILL. ^95 
 
 and never had any title or people of mark in 
 their family." 
 
 "And it was true," the Squire replied; "and 
 you, that got the blood of the house of Gran- 
 ville in your veins; besides that of Gothlois, 
 first duke of Tintayel, and Sir Fownes Tren- 
 lyon, knighted for his bravery in the field of 
 Tewkesbury, who wore black armour on that 
 day, with a raven's plume, such as I 've seen his 
 likeness in the wail of the parlour at Stowe — 
 he had a fearful presence— and should I coun- 
 sel your looking kind upon the descendant of a 
 Welsh squire, never heard of beyond his own 
 mountains ?'' 
 
 " And I listened to your counsel," she stern- 
 ly continued, " and thereby lost the only one I 
 ever loved, and he took it deeply to heart, and 
 all for the pride of ancestry, and because Sir 
 Beville might look cold upon it. I like to 
 brood upon these things, and maybe to boast of 
 them ; and there 's few have sitch a line to 
 boast of, Arthur, as we; but I v/as young then, 
 and thought less about them, and it w ringed
 
 296 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 my heart to see Trethewan go from the door, 
 with his blue eye faded, and his ruddy colour 
 all turned to white. He went home to Tre- 
 barva, where he's lived a single and seclusive 
 life ever since. But you crossed our love, and 
 that 's a sad thing to do, and I told you then 
 you would go a lonely man to your grave for it." 
 Trenlyon actually started at the prediction ; 
 his tone, both of word and feeling, had been for 
 some time yielding to the hardier one of his 
 sister ; and in her look, fixed on his, there was 
 a consciousness of power. He muttered some- 
 thing about having done all for the best, and so 
 on ; though the wish to keep his sister's portion 
 from gliding away had as much to do in 
 prompting the counsel as his fear of tainting 
 the descent. The small quantity of Hollands 
 left in the cup served to invigorate his resolve : 
 but the power of her emotion, which was really 
 sincere, bore down each assumed feeling ; for 
 she had conceived a strong attachment for this 
 suitor, and even now spoke occasionally of the 
 desolate state of Trebarva hall, with no kindly
 
 STRATTON HILL. 297 
 
 hand or look about its hearth-stone, no one to 
 smile on its inmate. But he too, like herself, 
 had become cold and selfish, as time passed 
 ruthlessly by his threshold, and sought only 
 to add to his worldly goods. Aware of her 
 advantage, the spinster tenaciously followed 
 it up. 
 
 " And after doing all this, Arthur, and dark- 
 ening, as I may say, all my prospects of 
 earthly happiness, you think to spin dazzlin' ones 
 for yourself, and, just by way of contrary, to do 
 the very thing, when your hair is white, that you 
 would'nt let me do, when mine was black as the 
 raven's breast, and my eye full o' power. But 
 it won't prosper, as I tell ye — a foresworn and 
 helpless man you'll be ; and another's hand, that 
 may seem soft now, will be hard upon your old 
 years." 
 
 The brother felt like a man who was caught 
 in his own snare ; but turned the torrent of re- 
 proach, as has often been done before, by sud- 
 denly changing the subject. He sat erect in his 
 chair, and gave vent to the purpose on which he
 
 298 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 had for many days brooded, by saying that he 
 intended shortly to go and join the troop under 
 Sir Beville's orders, and follow the head of his 
 house to the field. The novelty of the intel- 
 ligence startled the fair speaker so greatly, 
 that she doubted at first whether her ears had 
 told her truth. 
 
 " Mercy upon us, Arthur ! are ye sincere in 
 what you say ? to leave your quiet warm home 
 and go to serve the King in the open field, 
 and to lie upon the damp ground ? 'tis a rash 
 thing to do." 
 
 " It may be so,'' he replied ; " but every body 
 is marching : the old men that never left the 
 village for the last twenty years ; and the very 
 boy that scared the birds from the young corn 
 has taken a pike, and flitted this morning. 
 Besides, the duty I owe the house as a near re- 
 lation, his Lordship went through the village 
 with such a train at his heels ; and many far 
 away keene too, the Scawens, the Pentreaths, 
 and Lewannicks, were near his person, and 
 looked as proud of it as might be. And what
 
 STRATTON HILL. 299 
 
 would he say, was I to stay behind it ? It would 
 taint our name." 
 
 " It's true, it's all true, brother,""' was the 
 reply ; " but you have never been a fighting 
 man ; and if there should be a battle, only think 
 what might happen." Her eye grew brighter 
 unconsciously, as she uttered these words ; and 
 it cannot be denied that the idea of being left 
 sole possessor of the estates of Trenlyon, and 
 all their fair appurtenances by any chance that 
 might befall the present heir, was not unwel- 
 come at that moment ; for there was little doubt 
 that Trethewan, whose image, while speaking of 
 him, had just come before her with all its an- 
 cient attractions, would bend his chilled spirit 
 to its primitive love, and rejoice to welcome 
 her and her ample dowry, still unfettered, to 
 Trebarva hall. Still it was difficult to stifle the 
 kindliness of her nature that was awakened by 
 this declaration. 
 
 " To be sure, as you say, Arthur, it would 
 be a falling off from the fame of our house, 
 and in its last male heir too, and so near o'
 
 800 
 
 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 blood, not to help his Lordship in sitch a sore 
 extremity ; leavin' out going forth for the King, 
 which there''s enough people to do, without such 
 peaceable ones as you stirring in the quarrel. 
 But it's a fallin' off, as you say, from the old 
 Lords of Tintayel, besides the first Duke and 
 Lady Igerna, and the Knights o' Trenlyon 
 that used to dine, there's no doubt, at King 
 Arthur's round table, each man cutting his 
 victuals with his dagger and back-sword, and 
 fighting with the same weapons, like wild 
 beasts, afore they rose from table. You ken 
 these times better than I do. But you won't 
 go into danger, brother? you'll beware surely 
 of the musket balls, and the sword strokes, 
 and the pushin' o' the pike — remember you 
 was never used to sitch things, and must take 
 care o' your precious life." 
 
 The conclusion of this speech presented, per- 
 haps, some images not very delightful to the 
 hearer's feelings ; but the truth was, he had 
 been stung by some reflections thrown out by a 
 few adherents of the Granvilles, far more re-
 
 STRATTON HILL. SOI 
 
 motely allied than himself. He had always 
 professed to be warmly interested in the quarrel, 
 and a staunch advocate for the King ; and in the 
 crusade from town, hovel, and hamlet that was 
 now in movement, he saw, that to remain at 
 home an idle spectator would be a discreditable 
 thing. Besides, he was in his prime, it might 
 be said ; his limbs were strong and active, and 
 he stood as good a chance as others of returning 
 home in a whole skin, and his ample brow 
 covered with laurels. 
 
 " No doubt, life is a precious thing ; and when 
 once lost, is lost for aye : but one mus'nt think 
 of danger, or of pike-thrust — hem ! — that may 
 go through one afore one is aware ; and to see 
 a strong man stretched upon his back, beating 
 the air with his hands, like I 've seen lobsters 
 down in the cove yonder when put upon the 
 sand — Have ye any more o' that Hollands ? it's 
 so warmin' such a chill evening as this.'' 
 
 " But consider, Arthur ; don't do things 
 rashly: have you really made up your mind 
 to it ? it's a solemn step to take, and, no doubt, 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 302 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 you '11 be much talked of for it afterwards, — that 
 is, if you're preserved it; but you arn't pre- 
 pared to set forth yet, you hav'nt any armour, 
 nor weapons of war.*" 
 
 " They are soon got, such as they are : the 
 great knights of our old territory wore armour 
 that a man felt as snug and sheltered in as in 
 his warm bed of a howlin' December's night. 
 The more the pity it should be left off for that 
 used now-a-days ; a musket ball would'n go 
 through it ; and a pike banged against it, as if 
 'twas an iron gate, hke the one that stood in 
 the ruined archway. A man's life is'n secure 
 now.; however, I shall set out for Launceston 
 in two or three days for the force is mustering 
 strong there." 
 
 " Well, brother, if you are resolved, there 's 
 no turnin' a fouright man from his way ; and 
 I '11 see that every thing shall be got ready for 
 your outfit, and you '11 be among kindly folk at 
 Launceston, by whom our family is holden in 
 deep respect. But if the rebels should draw 
 nigh, while you are shut up in the walls there,
 
 STRATTON HILL. 303 
 
 they '11 come to the village, maybe^ and make a 
 clean house and home ; for they are a fierce set, 
 that are for overthrowing all that 's venerable in 
 the land ; you'll find no more mercy from them 
 than a common man." 
 
 " I trust not to have mercy to beg from them, 
 E^amsen : things arn't come to that strait 
 yet ; for they say they like to cut off the stout 
 branches of the families, that have flourished 
 like the everlasting oaks in the land, or like the 
 cedars of Lebanon, that are more sightly in 
 their ripe years than in the greenness of youth. 
 But prepare for the worst, sister ; we shall have 
 a bloody field, perhaps : you know, his Lordship 
 is over eager and hot in face of the enemy, and 
 the gentlemen of his house must follow, if it's 
 over dead bodies and dying men lying in their 
 red armour like in winding-sheets. How dull 
 that fire burns ! there's a darkness come quick 
 over the room : the pile of turf there, that looks 
 so fiery, what a queer shape it's burnin' in, just 
 like a coffin ! you saw such a one, Damsen,
 
 304 STRATTON HILL. 
 
 you 've told me, the night afore my father was 
 taken?" 
 
 " I did so, Arthur ; a fearful night it was ; 
 there was a sough in the air, a sound drawing 
 nigh like that of a host marching ; but you 're 
 looking pale and forwrought, man ; is anything 
 aihng ye ? let me get a soup of the old Gascoyne 
 wine out of the cellar; 'twill be better for ye than 
 Hollands, that's only good for a weak stomach." 
 
 So saying, she bustled off to the well-stored 
 cellar, leaving her brother in darkness and si- 
 lence, a prey to contemplations far less sweet and 
 cheering than those into which his tenderness 
 had beguiled him, his look fixed on the depths 
 of the chimney, while her departing footsteps 
 were the only sound that met his ear. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON; 
 
 PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street.
 
 o
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLIN0I9-URBANA 
 
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