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 THE 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES 
 
 OF 
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON 
 
 ^istotical IXomanct. 
 
 " Some are born great, some achieve greatness, 
 And some have greatness thrust upon them." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 LONDON : 
 HUGH CUNNINGHAM, ST. MARTIN'S PLACE, 
 
 TRAFALGAR SQUARE ; 
 
 SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO., STATIONERS' HALL COURT. 
 
 BELL & BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH ; 
 JOHN GUMMING, DUBLIN ; D. CAMPBELL, GLASGOW. 
 
 1841.
 
 ^;J] UORARY 
 
 WS UMvi:!>sr{ V of caufornu 
 
 l^^( SAINTA BAKBAKA 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In presenting this romance to the public in a complete state, 
 and taking leave of those of his readers who, during its periodical 
 progress, have from month to month met its consecutive advances 
 with a generous welcome, and (by pausing at the several stages of 
 their existence to conjecture their idtimate disposition) become 
 interested in the characters whom he has introduced to their notice, 
 the Author begs leave to offer a few remarks, which, though not 
 essential to its due comprehension, will illustrate the principle 
 that dictated the conception, and the object that was sought by 
 the conduct, of the story. 
 
 The commercial pursuits that have raised London to the chief 
 place among the cities of the world, and the peculiar qualities 
 that render it the most eligible seat for the government of a mighty 
 empire, are not of a nature to invest it with that venerable repute 
 to which its history and antiquity entitle it ; and for this reason, 
 instead of admiring the munificence of its merchant-princes, or 
 associating them with the great events of the past, we have been 
 wont to regard them as insensate pursuers of wealth, or, with still 
 less of justice, established gluttons. Yet no city, perhaps, can 
 put forth such stirring annals as those of London ; nor can any, 
 however respectable in point of rank and age, boast of worthier or 
 more patriotic sons. To prove this, and at the same time to 
 shed over the dingy temple of traffic the golden beams of romance, 
 this work was undertaken ; and, in order that both might be pre-
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 sented at once to the reader's vision, it blends in one tale the 
 national and metroiDolitan chronicles. 
 
 The intestine commotions with which we were threatened pre- 
 vious to the appearance of this work, and which have happily been 
 suppressed by the energy of the govei'nment, suggested to the 
 Author that, as the creed of modern revolutionists involves the 
 principles of which Parson Ball was the apostle, he might instance 
 the outbreak of Wat Tyler as an illustration of the excesses 
 which would probably follow an insurrection of Chartists ; and in 
 the prospectus of the work, incorporated with the first Number, he 
 hinted at this purpose in terms too broad to be mistaken. He 
 now deems it necessary to remind the reader of this circumstance, 
 as it establishes him beyond question in the proprietorship of the 
 idea. 
 
 The obloquy which several novelists had previously cast on the 
 Jew.s, than whom more industrious or inoffensive citizens do no* 
 exist, induced the Author to represent a member of that persuasion 
 in a new character ; and by tracing his course through a dark and 
 stormy era, and comparing his actions and acquirements with those 
 of his Christian persecutors, to shew the cruel injustice of holding 
 up a particular class to public detestation. 
 
 For the anachronisms which he has committed, and his adoption 
 of the story of the cat, the Author will plead a novelist's licence. 
 Tennent, however, gives credit to the traditionary account of the 
 cat's fortunes, and instances a similar incident in the history of a 
 native of Portugal — which incident is equally marvellous, but not 
 so generally known. 
 
 December 1st, 1840.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 -t 
 
 THE FIRST PERIOD.— INFANCY— 1364. 
 
 CHAPTER I. — THE TERMAGANT. 
 
 The Market-place at Taunton — The Madonna's Shrine — Williams introduced— 
 His Devotions interrupted by Cobbs — The Carousal — The Parting — Wil- 
 liams's Journey Home — The Snow-storm — The Shed — The Mother and her 
 Child— Dick Whittington — Death of the Mother — Williams takes the Child 
 home — Dame Williams, the Termagant — The Manner in which she received 
 her Husband ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... p. 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. — THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 The Arrival of Sir Alfred Sinclair — The Adventures of the Child, Henry — His 
 Recognition by Sir Alfred — Of the Minstrel's Discomposure — Dame Wil- 
 liams reveals Henry's History — The Supper — The Minstrel's Lay — Sir 
 Alfred and the Minstrel confer together — Sir Alfred reveals his Criminal 
 Love, and relates how he had been deceived by Hubert Cromwell — Sir 
 Alfred's Passion — Of the Vow which the Minstrel made, and the criminal 
 project which he undertook — The Minstrel's Retreat ... ... p. 8 
 
 CHAPTER IIL — THE APPARITION. 
 
 Of the Manner in which the Minstrel performed his Promise — The Abduction of 
 Henry — The Departure of Sir Alfred — The Pursuit by Williams — Sir Alfred 
 returns — The Cause of the Pursuit — Sir Alfred renews his Journey — Of 
 the Conversation of Whittington the Elder, and his Companion, Vassals of 
 Sir Alfred — The History of the Sinclair Family — Of the Quarrel between 
 Whittington and his Spouse — Of the Ghost of Hubert Cromwell — Of the 
 Manner in which the Minstrel disposed of Henry, and of the ordering of the 
 Baron's Reception at the Castle — The Baron's Chamber — The Conference 
 with the Minstrel — The Midnight Meeting — The Projected Assassination 
 interrupted by the Apparition of Hubert Cromwell — The Flight of the 
 Baron's Companion — The Baron's Confusion — Mysterious Disappearance of 
 the Child „. p. 19 
 
 CHAPTER IV. — THE VAULT. 
 
 Shewing how the Baron discovered a Secret Passage — How he entered therein, 
 and of the Mysterious Sounds which he there heard — How the Fugitives 
 were pursued by the Baron, and how an Accident befel them — How the 
 Baron was interrupted in the Pursuit, and what further happened p. 29 
 
 CHAPTER v. — THE RECOGNITION. 
 
 A Crowner's Quest is convened at the Hostelry, and a satisfactory Verdict is 
 returned — A certain Merchant recognises the body of Gertrude Whittington, 
 and, after a conference with Williams, proceeds to Arkton Castle p. 33 
 
 CHAPTER VI THE MEETING. 
 
 Which closes the First Period of this History ... ... p. 46
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THE SECOND PERIOD YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. — THE DEPARTURE. 
 Shewing the Manner and Circumstance of Dick's Departure for London p. 32 
 
 CHAPTER II. — THE JOURNEY. 
 
 Traces the Hero's Progress towards London — Old ]\Iay-day — The Mayings — 
 The Maid Marian — Robin Hood — Friar Tuck — Combat between Master 
 Simon Racket and Robin Hood — Dick dis])lays Decision of Cliaracter — 
 Eleanor Price and Dame Alice Pcrrers — Ilighgate — Bill Smith — Sir 
 Ambrose I'oilard, the Priest of Highgate — Uattle between the Romanists 
 and Lollards, and its consequences to Dick ... ... ... ... p. 56 
 
 CHAPTER III. — THE ESCAPE. 
 Which relates the Manner of Dick Whittington's Entry into London p. 65 
 
 CHAPTER IV. —THE CITY. 
 Shews how the Citizens of London were divided in their Political Opinions, 
 and how the Roman Clergy incited the I\Iob to Riot ... ... p. 60 
 
 CHAPTER v. — THE SHIP. 
 
 In which Dick visits the bark Unicorn, where a serious Accident befals 
 him ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... p. 73 
 
 CHAPTER VL — THE GARRET. 
 
 Dick is discovered in Master Fitzwarren's Kitchen, wliere he is associated with 
 an old Acquaintance, and forms a new one. He is lodged in the Garret, 
 which introduces him to other Acquaintance ... ... ... p. 81 
 
 CHAPTER VIL_THE CAT. 
 
 Dick purchases a Cat — He goes on an Expedition with two Friends, and thereby 
 sustains much inconvenience ... ... ... ... ... ... p. 86 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL— THE CAVALIER. 
 
 Unfolds what further befel in Gracious Street, and what happened Dick 
 after p. 94 
 
 CHAPTER IX. — THE CONSPIRACY. 
 
 Introduces the Reader to the Tower Royal, its Kitchen and its Garden — 
 Relates how Dame Alice Perrers and Sir Alfred Sinclair conspired against 
 Master Cobbs, and how the Conspiracy was discovered by Dick Whit- 
 tington p. 97 
 
 CHAPTER X. — THE VENTURE. 
 
 How Dick Whittington parted with his Cat — How he visited Leaden Hall 
 
 How Master Cobbs was waylaid by Sir Alfred Sinclair — How the Jew 
 Mediciner brought him off by a Stratagem ... ... ... p. 107 
 
 CHAPTER XI.— THE DREAM. 
 
 What happened at the House of INIaster Salmon, tlie Jew Mediciner — How it 
 was besieged, iiow the Siogc was raised, and by wliom — How a certain Hero, 
 bight Dick Whittington, became the Knigiit of a Lady Fair, and how the 
 said Lady dreamt a dream ... p. 112
 
 CONTENTS, VU 
 
 CHAPTER XII. — THE RAMBLE. 
 
 London Bridge — The Departure of the Unicorn — Dick Whittington goes 
 on a Ramble, and is as highly gratified therewith as could reasonably be 
 expected ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... p. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. — THE PROCLAMATION. 
 
 Of the Search which Dick Whittington instituted for Master Simon Racket and 
 Miriam Salmon, and of its Result ... ... ... ... p. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. — THE PAGEANT. 
 
 Of the Encounter of Dick Whittington with a certain Ale-Knight — Of the 
 Gallantry of Dick, and the Manoeuvre of Mistress Alice Fitzwarren — Of the 
 Pageant of the Citizens — Of the Political Enthusiasm of Master Simon 
 Racket — Of a mysterious and unexpected Summons which Dick receives 
 
 p. 137 
 CHAPTER XV. — THE PIT. 
 
 Dick is introduced to a certain Lady, who confides to him a Mission of much 
 consequence; which Mission, owing to the Arrival of a Third Person, is 
 unavoidably postponed ... ... ... ... p. 146 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. — THE RIVALS. 
 
 Mistress Eleanor Price is presented with a Token of Affection, which, with 
 another Matter, creates a great Commotion in the Tower Ileal — Dick Whit- 
 tington resumes his prominent Station in this History ... ... p. 131 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL — THE FUGITIVE. 
 
 A Marriage between Two Characters of this History appears probable — A 
 certain Cavalier, by the Advice of the Jew Mediciner, flies the Presence of 
 Love ... ... ... ... ... ... ... p. 164 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL — THE DUEL. 
 
 Of a Wedding at which Dick Whittington was a Guest — Of a Conference 
 between Dick Whittington and Master Simon Racket — Of a Duel in the 
 Tower Royal ... ... ... ... ... ... ... p. 172 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. —THE FLIGHT. 
 Of Dick Whittington's Flight from the House of Master Fitzwarren ... p. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XX. — THE RETURN. 
 In which the Hero returns to the Metropolis ... p. J87 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. — THE BILLET-DOUX. 
 
 Of a certain Missive which Master Henry sent to the Lady Evaline Shewincr 
 
 how the said Missive was entrusted to Dick Whittington, how he delivered 
 it to the wrong Lady, and what ensued thereupon p. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. — THE ADVENTURER. 
 
 In which Mistress Clarissa embarks for Calais, but, owing to Circumstances, 
 which are fully set forth, it becomes a matter of doubt whether she will live 
 to the end of the Chapter p. 202 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. — THE TOWER OF LONDON. 
 
 Shewing how Three Characters of this History assisted Dame Alice Perrers 
 to attempt an Escape from the Tower of London, and how far they suc- 
 ceeded p. 214
 
 VllI CONTENTS. 
 
 THE THIRD PERIOD. — MANHOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. — THE LOVE-LORN. 
 
 Which, as it contains several interesting Love Passages, will call for much 
 Sympathy from any Sentimental Young Lady who reads it ... p. 225 
 
 CHAPTER II. — THE RECESS. 
 Wherein a Beau of the Fourteenth Century is introduced to the Reader's notice, 
 and shews, at his first appearance on this stage, how coxcombry can pervert 
 an lionest heart ... ... ... ... ... p. 236 
 
 CHAPTER IIL — THE KISS. 
 In which a Young Lady kisses Dick Whittington p. 247 
 
 CHAPTER IV. — THE SHRIFT. 
 
 Mistress Clarissa meets an old Acquaintance, in whose company, as of yore, she 
 encounters mishap ... ... ... ... ... ... ... p. 257 
 
 CHAPTER V. — THE ARREST. 
 
 In which one of Dick's Friends is committed to durance ; and another, of whom 
 he was one of the Guardians, disappears ... ... ... ... p. 264 
 
 CHAPTER VI. — THE CLERK. 
 
 Introduces the Reader to the Camp of Wat Tyler at Blackheath, where an 
 Incident occurs tliat foretokens the early Conclusion of this History p. 275 
 
 CHAPTER VIL — THE CONFESSION. 
 AVhat came to pass in the Garden of Master Fitzwarren p. 284 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL — THE SIEGE. 
 
 What happened at the Gaol of Newgate, and at the Mansion of I^ady Alice de 
 Windsor p. 289 
 
 CHAPTER IX. — THE KING. 
 
 Of the Manner in which His Highness King Richard the Second encountered 
 the Rebels, and of the loyal bearing of Dick Whittington ... p. 299 
 
 CHAPTER X. — THE MICE. 
 
 What fell out in the Kingdom of Algiers, whither the good ship " Unicorn" had 
 sailed p. 308 
 
 CHAPTER XI — THE DEATH-BED. 
 What transpired at the House of Lady Alice de Windsor ... ... p. 318 
 
 CHAPTER XII. — THE LOVERS. 
 How Master Cottle projected a Strategy, and what the Strategy was p. 324 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. — THE SEARCH. 
 What became of Miriam when she left the House of Master Fitzwarren p. 328 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. — THE WEDDING. 
 The Historian shews that he has not forgotten his Hero p. 337 
 
 CHAPTER XV. — THE LAST. 
 Which closes the career of the Hero p. 340
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES 
 
 OF 
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 
 
 THE FIRST PERIOD. INFANCY— 1364. 
 
 CHAPTER I. THE TERMAGANT. 
 
 THE MARKET-PLACE AT TAUNTON THE MADONNA's SHRINE WIL- 
 LIAMS INTRODUCED HIS DEVOTIONS INTERRUPTED BT COBBS 
 
 THE CAROUSAL THE PARTING WILLIAMS's JOURNEY HOME 
 
 THE SNOW-STORM THE SHED THE MOTHER AND HER CHILD 
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON DEATH OF THE MOTHER WILLIAMS TAKES 
 
 THE CHILD HOME DAME WILLIAMS, THE TERMAGANT THE 
 
 MANNER IN WHICH SHE RECEIVED HER HUSBAND. 
 
 On the afternoon of the 30th of January, 1364, long after the 
 expiration of the usual hour of business, the market-place of the 
 little town of Taunton, in Somersetshire, presented an appearance of 
 bustle which was quite out of character with its size ; and if a 
 stranger, unacquainted with the cause, had surveyed it at the time, 
 he would probably have formed a higher estimate of its import- 
 ance than its officinal capabilities would have warranted. There 
 were many respectable persons, principally yeomen and strangers, 
 collected in groups in different parts of the market, but their 
 discourse, which was apparently carried on with considerable spirit, 
 did not touch on the dry details of commerce, as an occasional burst 
 of laughter fully demonstrated. Even some substantial-looking 
 burghers, who at other times would have been seen only in their stalls, 
 were affably conversing with less respectable vendors ; who, as their 
 commodities were exposed for sale in open baskets, which usually 
 comprised their entire property, were for the most part regarded as 
 intruders by the occupants of stalls. The circumstance which had pro- 
 duced such a good feeling between parties who were generally so 
 inimical to each other, and which in fact formed a topic of discourse 
 for the whole town, was a recent tournament, held by Sir Herbert de 
 
 B
 
 2 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Pye, feudal Raron of Taunton, in a plain adjoining the town ; and 
 those who had witnessed this exhibition, which had attracted specta- 
 tors from all parts of the countiy, were descanting on the merits 
 of the several competitors for the prize. But the intense cold, and 
 the earlv twilight of a winter's afternoon, combined, at last, to 
 drive the majority of them home ; and others, who had visited 
 the tow^l for commercial purposes only, adjourned to two rival 
 hostelries in the immediate vicinity. 
 
 Among those few who continued to linger in the market, even after 
 the most sedulous burgher had retired, was a short jolly-looking man, 
 wrapped in a ponderous cloak, which, as it was made of stout Flemish 
 cloth, was a sufficient guarantee for the respectability of its pro- 
 prietor. His habiliments, nevertheless, were not superior to those 
 worn by the generality of the commercial classes ; nor did his 
 personal aspect, so far as the twihght allowed it to be seen, at all 
 savour of gentihty. His face, though it was marked with the wrinkles 
 of a fortieth year, was certainly pleasing ; but there was an expression 
 in his merry eye — an appearance which could not be painted with 
 accuracy, and which might be overlooked by a cursory obsei"ver — 
 that indicated a tame and passive disposition. He was standing with 
 his face to a small lamp, which cast its feeble rays on an effigy of the 
 Madonna, but he was not, apparently, paying his adoration to the 
 beatifical virgin, though, when the sound of a heavn/ step announced 
 the approach of a passenger, he threw himself on his knees before the 
 shrine, and fervently ejaculated " Ave Maria!" 
 
 The individual whose vicinity had made him a witness of this 
 display of religious ardour, which he did not seem to have expected 
 from the man in the cloak, burst into a loud laugh, as he halted in his 
 rear ; and further interrui)tcd his devotions, as well as disturbed his 
 equanimity, with a smart stroke of his cane. The devotee turned to 
 survey the person of this irreverent intruder ; and, though his 
 countenance advanced more legitimate claims, his dress was certainly 
 no warrant for his familiar mode of salutation. 
 
 A suit of dark-coloured clothes, worn nearly thread-bare, and cut 
 in the close and short fashion wliich prevailed during the preceding 
 reign, revealed the proportions of his tall and muscular figure ; and a 
 drugget surcoat, together with a long, pointed hat, completed his 
 equipment. His countenance had once been handsome, but, now 
 that he affected mirth, it looked grim, for there was a counter- 
 expression stamped on his features — whether ])roduced by the 
 anxiety attending on commercial pursuits, or by some deeper and 
 more morbid feeling, which belied his cachinnation. 
 
 " How now. Master Williams?" he said to the devotee, " How is 
 it with you these times, and how fares the Uttle fellow whom we call 
 our son ?" 
 
 " Ah ! my merry merchant !" answered Williams, for such was the 
 designation of him of the cloak, " is it your proper self.'' Why, as 
 times go, I can't complain ; and the boy, our son as you call him, 
 grows handsomer every day. But to come to business. Master 
 Cobbs, how go your Spanish wines .''"
 
 DICK WHITTINGTOX. O 
 
 " You shall taste them yourself, my master," replied the other, " I 
 have left a sample at the Boar's Head ; and if you hke the flavour, 
 my wains will be up to-morrow, and you shall have a cask or two." 
 
 " We will first taste your sample. Master Cobbs," said Wilhams, 
 " and mayhap it v/ill keep out the cold this dreary night ; for by 
 my holidame ! I have waited for you till my teeth chatter ; and the 
 sky threatens a rough night." 
 
 " Your horse is at the Boar's Head, I ween ?" cried Cobbs, as he 
 seized the other's arm, and dragged him hastily onwards. 
 
 " Aye, gaffer," returned Williams ; " buti^rj^thee slack your pace a 
 peg. We have no wager depending on our legs." 
 
 But the merchant, disregarding the remonstrance of Williams, 
 pushed on at the same pace. In a few moments they emerged from 
 the market, and, when they had proceeded a few yards down the 
 street, arrived at a respectable-looking tavern, which they immedi- 
 ately entered. 
 
 " The Boar's Head," which name distinguished this place of 
 entertainment from a contiguous rival, was still crowded wiib joyous 
 visitors, who, seated round the extensive hearth, were listening to 
 the performance of a mendicant musician. Neither Williams nor 
 Cobbs seemed desirous to participate the festi\'ity of the common 
 room, for they turned into a private apartment in the rear of the pre- 
 mises, where preparations had apparently been made for their rece]ition. 
 They soon entered on the chscussicn of a flagon of rich wine, which 
 stood, with a small lamp, on the table at which they were seated, 
 and as Ma,ster Williams derived considerable entertainment from the 
 discourse of his companion, and felt a sort of interest in the emptying 
 of the wine flagon, the night had quite set in before he remembered 
 that he was ten miles distant from his home. WHien this circumstance 
 suddenly occuiTed to his memory, although his entertainer pressed 
 him to remain for the night, he rose to depart ; for, as v\ iU hereafter 
 be manifest. Master Williams dared not absent himself a night from 
 home. 
 
 " St. George !" he cried, as the proprietor of the hostelry entered 
 the room, " how the wind howls ! and I have ten good miles to ride. 
 Prythee mine host, let my horse be saddled instanter : and. Master 
 Cobbs, get you your wains up as soon as you can, for a cask of this 
 wine is worth a Christian's ransom." 
 
 " I wish you a pleasant journey, my master," rephed Cobbs, " and 
 sorry am I that the wains are not up now. It is a pity to have such 
 goods out on a night like this ; for by my troth ! the wind is as noisy 
 as yonder croaking minstrel." 
 
 " Ah, thou hast no taste for the gay science. Sir Merchant," 
 rejoined the other, as, wrapping himself in the folds of his com- 
 fortable cloak, he smiled at the sarcastic simile of his companion : 
 " but good night ; a farewell to you !" 
 
 " My benison be on thee, gossip!" cried Cobbs, as he followed 
 him to the door of the hostelry, " and a good night be it, for thy 
 sake !" 
 
 " St. Julian gratit it!" exclaimed Williams; and mounting his
 
 4 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 horse, which stood ready at the door, he galloped off in the direction 
 of his home. 
 
 Tlie road which Master Williams traversed with so ranch celerity 
 led to the village of Taunton- Deans, which, thoua;h it was situate at 
 an angle of the main road, was then, as it is still, hoth retired and 
 httle known. The night could scarcely be called dark, for the 
 heavens wore that white, heaw skv, which is peculiar to a northern 
 latitude, but the very whiteness of its complexion, far from being 
 luminous, invested eveiy object with opacity. The snow, too, 
 began to descend with a rapidity which foreboded a violent storm ; 
 and as the horseman was riding in the face of a keen biting wind, 
 which maintained a strenuous opposition to his progress, he had 
 some difficulty in persuading his steed to continue its exertions. 
 By dint of whip and spur, however, he was enabled to pursue the 
 first eight miles of his journey, without a halt ; hut when he had 
 proceeded thus far, the snow storm became so violent, that he deter- 
 mined to seek a few moments' shelter in a shed which he was then 
 approaching. 
 
 He pulled up before the shed with the intention of dismounting, 
 in order that his horse might have the full benefit of his temporary 
 halt, when he was startled by a feeble groan, which was quickly 
 succeeded b)'" a second, and which seemed to issue from the interior. 
 His first impulse was to fly ; but though he firmly believed in the 
 prevailijig creed of apparitions and ghostlv visitations, Williams was 
 gifted with sufficient common sense to master his fears when nothing 
 supernaturally appeared ; and as he knew of no legend that attached 
 an evil reputation to the shed, and thought that it was likely to he 
 the last retreat of some distressed mortal rather than the haunt of 
 goblins, he resolved to prosecute his original purpose. 
 
 On entering the shed, which was at best but a pitiful asylum from 
 the raging elements, he discovered a respectably clad female stretched 
 in the most sheltered corner, and a babe, whose tiny limbs were 
 folded in the warm garments of his nurse, sleeping on her naked 
 bosom. The woman was in that torpid condition which is sometimes 
 the precursor of an easy death, and the infant was WTapped in the 
 slumber which often proves equally destructive. The woman's clothes 
 notwithstanding, did not accord with her situation ; for the comfort- 
 able russet petticoat and warm jerkin of cloth, though the material 
 was coarse, belonged to the better sort of peasants ; and her face, 
 j)allid as it was, seemed too soft, and too lovely, for that of a 
 mendicant. Her appearance, indeed, was not so distressing as her 
 fearful apathy, which, with her heavy sonorous breathings, savoured 
 of speedy dissolution. 
 
 Williams com])rehended the dangerous condition of the sufferers 
 at a glance, and instantly divesting himself of his cloak, he laid 
 it over their unconscious forms. He then then drew from his 
 pocket a small vial of spirits, which he had furnished himself with 
 previous to his egression from " the Boar's Head," and having 
 applied some of its contents as an epithem to the woman's forehead, 
 and injected a small portion into her mouth, he succeeded in
 
 ./»*' ..>• 
 "■W-"'^^ 
 
 
 ^AWiii Ou'OViic Cv ll)c innii)auitc
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 5 
 
 restoring her to a partial seiiisibility- On opening her eves, she 
 stared round with a wild look, ^vhich manifested the intensity of 
 her abstraction, and uttering a deep groan, twined her arms round 
 her slumbering infant. She strove to raise her head, which was 
 resting on a block of decayed stone, but she was incompetent 
 for the effort; and, seemingly convinced of this, she contented 
 herself with turning her face round to meet that of her visiter. 
 
 "You've not seen my Dickon, have you.''" she said, fixing 
 her eyes on the kindly-looking face of Wilhams : "have you.''" 
 she repeated, trying to raise up her head. •' Tell him I was not 
 untrue to him ! Tell him my master is no merchant ! — but no," 
 she continued, " you must not divulge that. But tell him I died 
 with his name on my lips. Dick — Dick Wliittington ! our Lady 
 and Saint — " 
 
 " Come, my good dame," said Williams, raising her head, 
 " cheer thee up ! There, lean your head on my arm." 
 
 "Richard! Richard!" groaned the wotn an. 
 
 Her words became unintelhgible, and though she continued to 
 speak, and WUliams tried to catch every word that she uttered, he 
 was unable to draw any inference from her incoherent ejaculations. 
 He did, indeed, elicit, that she was on her way to the castle of 
 Taunton, whither, she said, her husband had followed his lord 
 to the tournament ; but, though he thrice entreated her to inform 
 him, he could not learn the designation of the lord. At length 
 she receded into the state of torpor in which he had originally 
 discovered her ; and while he was endeavouring, by the repetition 
 of his former mode of treatment, to revive her consciousness, she 
 drew a short, heavy respiration, and expired. 
 
 Master Williams, if he had not been labouring under the 
 excitement produced by his previous indulgence in wine, would 
 have been much embarassed by the novelty of the situation in 
 which he was now placed ; but, as the matter stood, he did not 
 deliberate on the course which it would be advisable to adopt, for, 
 in his opinion, only one course presented itself. It was clear, he 
 thought, that the woman had perished from exposure to the cold ; 
 and that the infant, if he remained there, would inevitably encounter 
 the same fate. He determined, therefore, to take care of him 
 for the night ; and, if he hved so long, to sun-ender him in the 
 morning to the parish authorities. In pursuance of this resolution, 
 which, as he was subject to the dominion of an arbitrary consort, 
 was as charitable a one as he could venture on alone, he first 
 arranged the hmbs of the corpse with due decorum, and then 
 raised the infant from his ghastly resting-place. Without staying 
 to appease his cries, he placed him with great tenderness under 
 his cloak ; and, mounting his horse, renewed his joumev. 
 
 The snow storm had increased rather than abated, and the 
 wind almost peeled the skin from the face, but Williams was too 
 much excited by the adventure of the evening, and too much 
 concerned for the security of his freight, to be any longer obstructed 
 by the elements. He spurred his horse into a spirited gallop ; and
 
 5 THK Ml'K AND Ti.MKS Of 
 
 on turning an angle of the road, about two niiics distance 
 from the shed, he reined up before his own dwelhng. 
 
 This tenement was one of those substantial brick erections, 
 which, though devoid of all pretence or ostentation, were, in those 
 days, held sufficient proofs of the comfortable circumstances of 
 their occupants. The wide and divided door, the illuminated 
 passage, and an external notification which the night obscured, 
 were appurtenances in an hostelry of the fourteenth century which 
 vouched for its character ; and all these were conspicuous in the 
 habitation which the equestrian had now attained, and which, though 
 a strangiT would not have divined as much from his demeanour, 
 he owned. The fact was, that Willianis would have endured the 
 storm without, unusually violent as it was, with more patience 
 than the tempest which he expected to encounter within ; for, as 
 has been before hinted, his dame was never much disposed to a 
 pacific life, and his introduction of a stranger, in the i)erson of a 
 foundling, was likely to provoke her serious displeasure. A cry from 
 the child, however, revived his drooping spirits ; and, having first 
 disposed of his horse in a contiguous stable, he crossed the threshold 
 of the " Sancte George and the Dragonne." 
 
 " Oh! farder ! farder!" exclaimed a boy, apparently about four 
 years of age, who ran foi-wards to the innkeeper, as he entered the 
 hall of the hostehy, " liave you brought home a baby ?" 
 
 " Hush, my darhiig!" said Willliams, stooping to caress the 
 child ; in wliich act, however, to his great terror, he was abruptly 
 interrupted. 
 
 " A fine time to come home, isn't it?" cried a short, dumpy, 
 hard-featured woman, whose sudden irruption into the room induced 
 Williams to conceal the foundling under his cloak, and who, with 
 a hand on each hip, and head erect, marched into the centre of the 
 hall ; " and a nice thing to be toying with a child nobody owns, and 
 letting the snow drip off" you on to the floor, instead of seeking 
 the presence of your neglected wife .'' — Hoity toity ! what 's that 
 squalling ? — a bal)y ?" 
 
 " My dear," replied her timid consort, " I was just coming to 
 seek you, and — " 
 
 " The baby, caitift'.?" screamed the hostess. " Whose is it .''" 
 
 " I found him on the road, my dear," answered Williams. 
 
 The person addressed was not only an ill-favuurt-d, but an ill- 
 natured woman. Finding that her husband was of a disposition which 
 shrank from altercation, she had early assumed the reins of domestic 
 government, and, without binding herself by the dictates of pru- 
 dence, exercised that dominion which is more the prerogative of the 
 husband, an<l which never fails to lessen the reputation of a wife. 
 But, notwithstanding, she possessed a certain sort of affection for 
 him ; if that, indeed, may be called affection, which, never moved to 
 tenderness, is displayed only in paroxysms of jedousy, and which, 
 dwelling in a corrupt heart, is stirred only by vicious emotions. On 
 the present occasion, when the better feelings of woman ought to 
 have predominated, she regarded the foundling as the offspring of an
 
 ^yA^ Qjg^^'ma.a^zyn/^f /,iui/otoy?vy aAy^-a-ea^/O .
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. / 
 
 illicit amour of her husband ; for the story of his finding him on 
 the road homewards, although he supported it with the most solemn 
 asserveration, seemed, in her judgment, too improbable to merit 
 consideration. 
 
 " Villain!" she exclaimed, darting towards him, " give up your 
 bastard ! I '11 tear it in pieces before your face." 
 
 " Nay, good danne," supplicated WUhams, " the baby can't help 
 it, you know." 
 
 " Give it up directly," vociferated his wife ; and, snatching the 
 infant from the arms of Williams, she ran with him to the front of 
 the hostelry fire, which, filling a grate of expansive dimensions, 
 emitted sufficient light and warmth to illuminate and heat the 
 apartment. 
 
 " As like as two moidores," she cried, as, with the aid of the 
 light which emanated from the huge fire, she scrutinized the infant's 
 features, which, as may be supposed, bore no resemblance to those of 
 the party accused ; " as like as two moidores," she repeated, starting 
 towards her husband, " and mayhap, villain, you 'U still say you 
 found it .■*" 
 
 Williams was about to answer in the affinnative, which would 
 have increased the resentment of the dame, and, in the end, might 
 have occasioned a resort to more mihtant proceedings, when the loud 
 blast of a bugle, succeeded by the tramp of several horses, announced 
 the arrival of guests of rank.
 
 THE LIFK AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER II. THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL OF SIR ALFRED SINCLAIR THE ADVENTURE OF THE 
 
 CHILD, HENRY HIS RECOGNITION BY SIR ALFRED OF THE 
 
 minstrel's DISCOMPOSURE DAME WILLIAMS REVEALS HENRY's 
 
 HISTORY THE SUPPER THE MINSTREl's LAY SIR ALFRED AND 
 
 THE MINSTREL CONFER TOGETHER SIR ALFRED REVEALS HIS 
 
 CRIMINAL LOVE, AND RELATES HOW HE HAD BEEN DECEIVED BY 
 
 HUBERT CROMWELL SIR ALFRED's PASSION OF THE VOW 
 
 WHICH THE MINSTREL MADE, AND THE CRIMINAL PROJECT WHICH 
 HE UNDERTOOK THE MINSTREl's RETREAT. 
 
 The company which, to the ineffable rehef of Master Williams, had 
 interrupted the torrent of the dame's displeasure, consisted of five 
 persons, whom the continuance of the snow-storm had compelled to 
 seek shelter for the night. 
 
 Tlie principal of the party was of a tall and courtly person, and of 
 handsome though irregular features. There was, however, a cloud 
 in his countenance, a mixture of the gloomy and the morose, which 
 was both suspicious and unpleasing. The lustre of his quick, grey 
 eye was corrected by a grave expression of melancholy beneath ; and 
 his forehead, though his age could not have exceeded thirty years, 
 was alreadv furrowed with several deep wrinkles. His beard and 
 moustachios, which were of a colour ap])roaching to sandy, united, 
 and the former appendage, in accordance with the prevaihng mode, 
 was long and round. His sandy-coloured hair was allowed to fall 
 over his high forehead, perhaps with a view of concealing the 
 wrinkles beneath ; and his eyebrows, thick and bushy, imparted to 
 his eve? a wild ferocitv, which was calculated to inake him more an 
 object of respect than of love. 
 
 On divesting himself of his heavy riding-cloak, which he handed to 
 one of his companv on entering the inn, his other habiliments bespoke 
 him of the ])atrician order ; and though his train was unusually small, 
 it WHS apparent, from the character of those who accompanied him, 
 that he was at least of the baronial dignity. 
 
 Tlie most remarkable person in his suite, for such the remainder 
 of the ])artv evidently were, was a minstrel, habited in the flowing 
 costume wliich the professors of the gay science then assumed, whose 
 enormous black beard, entirely obscuring the lower part of his face, 
 invested him with a very hirsute and unpoetic air. It would have 
 been difficult to discover, except by his speech, what country had 
 given him birtli ; for, though his face wore the complexion of the sunny 
 South, his blue eyes had the brilliancy of the less passionate North. 
 His left hand grasped a harp, over whose wires, as he followed his 
 lord into the hall of the hostelry, he drew the fingers of his other
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. y 
 
 hand ; but, finding that this performance did not call forth any 
 applause from the company, he seated himself sulkily on a settle near 
 the fire, and laid his instrument on an adjacent bench. 
 
 An esquire and two men-at-arms, who at first employed them- 
 selves in taking care of the horses, comprised the remainder of the 
 stranger's retinue : and for the entertainment of these guests, who 
 were of an order which seldom paid her the honour of a visit. 
 Dame Williams began to labour with an assiduity which was truly 
 laudable. 
 
 So anxious was the worthy hostess that her exalted visiter should 
 have cause to commend the cheer which she provided, and so intent 
 was her mind on the preparation of several culinary delicacies for his 
 individual consumption, that, in the confusion of her ideas, she 
 restored the exhausted fomidling to the custody of her husband, 
 contenting herself, at the moment, with dropping him a significant 
 scowl, which insinuated that the next ebullition of her wrath would be 
 more destructive in its effects. The indefatigable Williams imme- 
 diately set about making provision for the infant, who was now 
 arrived at the last stage of inanition ; and in this pursuit he was too 
 earnestly occupied to observe that the other child, who was noticed in 
 the preceding chapter as constituting one of his family, had intruded 
 himself into the society of the strangers. 
 
 This boy was of that peculiar composition which is destined to 
 attract notice from infancy to the decline of life. His dress was of 
 the most humble description, consisting only of a coarse drugget 
 frock and trousers, cut short at the neck, and made to button up the 
 front ; but the mediocrity of his attire could not detract from the 
 beauty of his round, ruddy countenance, or conceal the symmetry of 
 his infant limbs. His profuse brown hair, falling in ringlets down 
 his neck, and his jet black eyes, now pensive and now smiling, could 
 not be looked on without an undefinable pleasure : and it was this, 
 perhaps, which promoted his advances towards familiarity with three 
 of the nobleman's attendants; though a fourth, the minstrel, met them 
 with a decided repulse. Tlie peremptory tone in which the latter, on 
 the child's accidentally pushing against his harp, bade him be gone to 
 bed, and the consequent intercession of the esquire, with whom he had 
 become a favourite, first drew the attention of the dame to his ubiety; 
 and she was about to subject him to corporal correction, notwith- 
 stauding that the esquire spoke in his behalf, when a more exalted 
 personage deigned to interfere. 
 
 " What do you see in this urchin, Roger Wallingford, to induce 
 you to intercede so lustily in his behalf.?" asked the chief of the 
 esquire, curhng his lip, as he spoke, into a smile of contempt. 
 " Prythee," he continued, " sufi'er the good woman to remove her 
 banthng." 
 
 " 'Twere a shame to have the child punished. Sir Alfred," replied 
 the esquire ; " but doubtless you have the right to order it, and there- 
 fore I will not oppose it." 
 
 "You speak in riddles, good Roger," cried Sir Alfred; " and 
 Walter Howson looks as if he could cudgel you for doing so."
 
 10 THK Lll-L AM) TltiiiS Ot 
 
 " I mean, then, my lord," returned the et^quire, disrci^aiding the 
 inimical looks of the minstrel, " that the child is so like you chat " 
 
 " You think the dame has been playing false to her husband," said 
 Sir Ahred, smiling. 
 
 "Then he thinks a falsity, my lord," cried Dame Williams, who 
 had been combating her voluble propensities with great difficulty, 
 and was now so indignant at the insinuation of the esquire, and so 
 anxious to vindicate her impugned character, tiuit she overcame the 
 awe which the presence of nobility had at first excited ; " Then he 
 thinks a falsity, my lord," she vociferated, " begging your lordship's 
 grace for using the word. I 'm as honest a woman as any in the 
 hamlet ; and, bv my holidame ! the boy may be as nobly born as 
 your lordshi}), for he 's come, I 'm told, of the best blood in the 
 land." 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Sir Alfred, with visible agitation, " say'st thou .■'" 
 And, suddenlv resuming his former manner, and aiiecting a gaiety 
 which was exotic to his feehngs, he added, " Truly, dame, you have 
 cause to be ofxcnded with my simple esquire, who has been at least 
 malapert ; but, prythee, bear no animosity to him on that score ; and 
 for the bantling, let me see if he resemble me indeed." 
 
 It was, perhaps, fortunate for the minstrel's reputation, or, at least, 
 for the puq^ose which he had in hand, that the latter part of this 
 colloquy had so entirely engrossed the attention of the company, 
 whose eyes would otherwise have overlooked him, that the remark- 
 able uneasiness of his demeanour had escaped their observation ; and 
 he was still more fortunate in being able to repress the mental com- 
 motion which he had sustained, and which would perhaps have 
 betrayed his design, before the eye of Sir Alfred could detect it. The 
 latter received the boy from Dame Williams with seeming indifference ; 
 but, as he scanned his features, he could not resist an exclamation of 
 suqirise at the striking completeness of the likeness. There was the 
 same proud lip, the same Grecian nose, the same high brow and 
 round face, only that the one was ruddy with the buoyancy of child- 
 hood, and the other was marked with the cares of maturity. The 
 child's eyes, too, were of a jet black, while Sir Alfred's were of a grey 
 colour ; and, though the disposition of features was the same, their 
 expression was different. 
 
 " He is a little like me," said Sir Alfred, with a particular emphasis 
 on the auxiliary verb and the qualification ; " and truly, if he be of 
 gentle blood, I should l)e glad to rear him as my page. What say 
 you, Howson.''" he continued, turning to the minstrel, and holding 
 the child so that no other member of the company could observe his 
 motions, " Will he make a fit page for an aspiring knight }" 
 
 " He is pert enough, my lord ; and that is a good quahty in a 
 page," replied the minstrel, who perceived that Sir Alfred was peeping 
 beneath the spencer of the boy, and was greatly agitated at some 
 mark which he discovered on his breast. " Pages are pert to a 
 proverb." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! you churl !" cried Sir Alfred, attempting to laugh, " I 
 never knew you speak tenderly of your beardless mates. You should
 
 DIC'IC WHITTlNO'i'ttN. 11 
 
 have sought the cloister and the cowl, good Walter, instead of the 
 minstrel's muse and lyre. Your verse, though smooth to the ear. has 
 over-much of melancholy in its rhythm ; and, by my faith ! when you 
 attempt a merry lay, it grows discordant." 
 
 The company affected to be greatly amused at this sarcasm 
 of Sir Alfred, who, drinking off a flagon of wine which his esquire 
 presented to him, endeavoured to stifle the perturbation from which 
 he was inwardly suffering. With this view he was about to enter 
 into that sort of discourse with which the great lords of the time 
 often indulged their vassals, and which, while it conferred honour 
 on the inferior, was not considered any derogation of the party 
 condescending ; but ere he had given utterance to the remark 
 which was to open this colloquy. Dame Williams intimated that 
 the repast which she had prepared for him was waitiiig, and 
 he proceeded to take his seat at the festive board. 
 
 The table at which Sir Alfred Sinclair, for that was the 
 designation of this exalted personage, seated himself, was furnished 
 ^i'ith a motley array of substantial viands, and several bottrines of 
 rich wines, which, notwithstanding the absence of costly flasks, 
 could not have offended the most fastidious palate. A dehcate 
 ragout, the manufacture of which had exhausted the artistical 
 ability of the hostess, confronted the chair appropriated to Sir 
 Alfred, while a monstrous ham, which stood in tempting juxta- 
 position with a round of beef, was the most prominent object at 
 the lower end of the table. The salt-stands were placed in the 
 centre of the table, marking the line which separated tlie vassals 
 from their lord ; and as it was usual, at that period, for master 
 and servant to sit at the same board, this barrier served to 
 distinguish their caste ; those of the gentle blood sitting above, 
 and those of mean parentage below the salt. 
 
 The meal was soon dispatched, for neither Sir Alfred nor 
 the minstrel partook of it with relish, and the appetites of the 
 remainder of the party were too keen to dwell long upon the 
 ceremonies which then prefaced repletion. But though Sir Alfred 
 ate little, he drank deeply ; and Master Williams smiled at the 
 compliment which was awarded to his cellar, while his dame 
 frowned at the neglect which the productions of the kitchen 
 experienced. At length Sir Alfred rose from the table, and, 
 resuming his easy chair by the fire, furnished the hostess with a 
 pretext for removing the eatables, which she feared the men- 
 at-arms, by renewing hostilities, would entirely demolish. Thus 
 driven from their leaguer, the men-at-arms betook themselves 
 to the fire, and sitting down on the side opposite to that occupied 
 by their lord, amused themselves with watching the figurations 
 of the fuel. 
 
 " I think you said that child was nobly born," said Sir 
 Alfred, turning to Dame Williams, who, with her husband, had 
 retired to a respectful distance from their guest, " Who, then, 
 are his parents ?"
 
 12 THli LIFE AND TIMES OK 
 
 " I don't know, so please your lordship," replied the dame, 
 curtseying. " All I know about him is — " 
 
 But here the loquacious hostess received an unexpected inter- 
 ruption from the hitherto quiescent husband, who, jjulling her by 
 the sleeve, asked her, in a respectful whisper, if she had lost her 
 senses. Irritated by an enquiry which implied the possibility 
 of such a bereavement, and much more incensed that it should 
 emanate from her loving spouse, the dame covertly rephed by 
 pinching his arm ; and saying aloud, in an affectionate tone, 
 " ^'es, mv dear, I remember it," advanced a few paces nearer the 
 fire. 
 
 •' It is now four years ago, my lord," she said, making a profound 
 curtesy to Sir Alfred Sinclair, " on just such a night as this, 
 snow and tempest, and about the eve of midnight, that a person on 
 horseback galloped up to the hostelry door. 1 and my husband were 
 just going to bed, for there was no company in the house, when we 
 heard the tramp of the horse's feet approaching. The next moment 
 there came such a rap at the door, that the whole house shook. My 
 husband ran to see who it was, and, having done so, started back as 
 
 if he had seen a ghost " 
 
 " Bv our Lady I" cried WUliams, who seemed to be struck with 
 some sudden reminiscence, " I think I saw her to-night." 
 
 " Pshaw, my dear!" remonstrated his better half, " Pshaw, my 
 dear ! " and Williams, who was a connoisseur of tones, and detected 
 a sort of menace in the voice of his wife, slunk back to his silent 
 corner. " Well, my lord," she continued, enacting a second curtesy 
 to Sir Alfred, " the ghost turned out to be a mere woman. Zooks ! 
 she was as white as a sheet ; and her clothes, covered with snow, 
 looked like the shroud of a corpse. She carried a baby in her arms ; 
 but, though he was wrapped in flannel, the poor child seemed dead 
 o' cold. As for the woman, her hair was hanging over her neck, and 
 her eyes were staring round in her head, as if she " 
 
 " But what did she say about the child ?" interrupted Sir Alfred, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " I was going to tell you, my lord," rejoined the hostess, some- 
 what annoyed at the inter])olation of Sir Alfred. " She told me, that 
 the child was the son of a great baron, that his mother had died in 
 giving liim birth, and that his father had been killed in battle. She 
 said, if we would take charge of the child for a few years, we would 
 
 be well paid for our troal<le ; and she gave us how much was it }" 
 
 she asked of her husband. 
 
 Master Williams, roused by this inquiry, was about to state the 
 exact sum, when a private signal from his wife, who was notorious 
 for keeping secret the economy of her household, induced him to 
 plead a defective memory. Tliis reciprocity of forgetfulness on 
 so important a particular, while all the others were so accurately 
 remembered, occasioned considerable merriment among some of the 
 company, and the dame was so disconcerted at the interruption, that, 
 {IS Sir Alfred did not request her to continue her narration, she
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 
 
 13 
 
 returned sulkily to the bench occupied by her husband, on whom, as 
 was her wont, she privately vented the spleen which others had 
 excited. 
 
 If the esquire and the men-at-arms had observed the countenance 
 of their master while they were laughing at the convenient memories 
 of their host and hostess, they could not but have noticed the 
 pallor with which it was overspread, and the lurid and unnatural 
 expression which gleamed in his eyes ; but, as this diversion of 
 their attention afforded him time to assume some control over 
 his feehngs, all traces of emotion had vanished before he was again 
 subject to their scrutiny. The minstrel alone had obsen'ed them, 
 but he himself exhibited no symptoms of inquietude. He gazed, 
 indeed, on the pallid features of his lord, who was too much absorbed 
 in thought to be conscious of the surveillance, but if there was more 
 passion than usual in his glance, it was too gentle, too slight, too 
 imperceptible to attract observation. He raised his harp as Sir 
 Alfred began to recover his self-possession ; and, drawing his fingers 
 rapidlv over the wires, seemed to be lost in a profundity of thought. 
 Sir Alfred marked his abstraction, which, as he wished to hide his 
 own, he resolved to dispel. 
 
 " Are you composing a ballad for our entertainment, good 
 Walter?" he asked, with a grim and doubtful smile," or does a 
 vision of the future awaken your muse ? Prithee, let us have your 
 lay, and if it be love, so much the better, as it wiU suit my present 
 temper. I will then retire to mv chamber, whither. Sir Minstrel, 
 I shall require your presence." 
 
 Tims called upon, the minstrel signified his willingness to obey 
 by a bow ; and, striking his harp, accompanied its notes with a 
 Ivric. 
 
 Ehe ILag of the iWinstrel. 
 
 The moon doth look on tree and brook. 
 
 On castle, hiU, and plain ; 
 The stars above, their watch of love 
 
 With vigilance maintain ; 
 And in her bower, in lonely tower. 
 
 Fair Rose de la Monde doth lay ; 
 And still she cries, with tears and sighs, 
 
 " What keeps my knight away ? 
 
 " My Harry dear, that ne'er didst fear 
 
 The crest of mortal foe. 
 Art thou this hour in lady's bow'r. 
 
 That thou dost linger so ? 
 Ah yes ! I ween, thy cruel queen. 
 
 While here I ti'embling stav, 
 A spell hath found thee to surround. 
 
 And me with woe to slay."
 
 14 THE LIFE AND TiMES-OF 
 
 Then ceased the fair, for on the stair 
 
 She heard a stranger tread, 
 And stranger none that stair had won 
 
 Unk'i^s by traitor led ; 
 For maze of wood around there stood, 
 
 To guard her from the quecFi ; 
 And silken chie, no mortal knew 
 
 Save Harry's self, I ween. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! that such a pass 
 
 Should ever have befell ! 
 Alas a day ! that m-nstrel's lay 
 
 Of such should have to tell ! 
 But sooth to sing, by silken string 
 
 The labyrinth led through. 
 The queen hath won, that bower lone. 
 
 Where the world's choice flower grew. 
 
 " Sweet, drink this draught ! " she said, and laugh'd 
 
 The laugh of deadly ire ; 
 " This poison cup, or drink it up. 
 
 Or by this steel expire ! 
 Nay, ne'er despond, fair Rosamonde, 
 
 King Henry is not nigh, 
 And thou must up, with the poison cup, 
 
 Or by the dagger die ! " 
 
 Tlie moon doth look, on tree and brook, 
 
 On castle, hill, and plain ; 
 The stars above, their watch of love 
 
 With vigilance maintain ; 
 But not in l)ower, in lonely tower. 
 
 Rests Rose de la Monde to night. 
 But in the grave, where rest the brave. 
 
 And beautiful, and bright ! 
 
 As the minstrel concluded his performance, which elicited a 
 buzz of applause from his auditors. Sir Alfred expressed his intention 
 of retiring to his chamber. Williams, stimulated by some whisjK-red 
 abuse from his wife, attended to show him the way ; and Sir AUVed, 
 followed by the minstrel, proceeded to the dormitory. Notwith- 
 standing that it was the best which the house afforded, this chamber 
 presented an appearance widely dissimilar to the lodging which Sir 
 Alfred Sinclair usually occupied. A pallet bed, and a few other 
 articles of furniture, served only to render its nakedness more 
 conspicuous ; *and the feeble hght of a lamp, though seconded by a 
 fire wliich had recently been kindled on the hearth, was insutScient 
 to dif^sipate the gloom. The lofty walls were jjanellcd with stained 
 oak, and, save a large white crucifix which surmounted the door, 
 were entirely destitute of relief or adornment.
 
 IMCK WIIITTINGTON. 15 
 
 Having dismissed his hoet, and, by locking the door, secured 
 himself from external intrusion. Sir Alfred threw himseK on an 
 oaken settle near the fire, and, covering his face with his hands, 
 muttered an imprecation on his o^vn head. Unable any longer to 
 control emotions which he had resisted rather than repressed, he 
 allowed them to escape in passionate gestures and muttered curses, 
 while it was evident, from the contortion of his features and the 
 clenching of his fists, how headlong was the moral commotion from 
 which he was suffering. In a short time, however, he acquired a 
 sufficient mastery over his feehngs to recollect the imprudence of 
 such a display ; and turning to the minstrel, who had hitherto stood, 
 apparently unconscious of his perturbation, at the door, he beckoned 
 him to a settle on the opposite side of the fire. 
 
 " It has been said by clerks, good "Walter," he remarked, when 
 the minstrel had seated himself as he directed, " that a man's face 
 is the key to his heart ; and that whatsoever is his ruling passion, 
 is depicted on his brow. Now I have noted — I speak not to offend. 
 Sir Minstrel — that there is that in your countenance which says, if 
 I opine justly, you dare do deeds that common men would deprecate; 
 and yet, though others might think your manners churlish, I ween 
 you have a heart, good Walter, that can feel for the woes, and 
 avenge the wrongs, of a friend." 
 
 Whatever the speaker might have thought, his opinion of 
 the minstrel's heart was expressed in a tone which, with the 
 context, insinuated that virtue was not essential to the moral 
 government of humanity : and the minstrel, who thus construed 
 it, modelled his rejoirider accordingly. " I have often dared much 
 to serve a friend," he said, " and I was never turned from my 
 purpose. Baron of Arkton, by a priest's ravings or a fool's fears. 
 True, I have been in your service only a short time; but, from 
 mv having served you at aU, you have a lawful claim to my 
 friendship. TeU me, then, your wishes, and doubt not, my lord, 
 but they will be fulfilled." 
 
 " I thank you, Walter," returned the Baron, " for this averment 
 of your readiness ; but it is deeds, not words, that I seek at your 
 hands." 
 
 The Baron paused, apparently expecting that the minstrel 
 would reply ; but he remained silent, and the former resumed : 
 " Moreover, Walter, the deed which I would speak of, requires 
 a still tongue as well as a ready hand — a wise head as well as a 
 dauntless heart." 
 
 " I commend not myself, my lord," said the minstrel coldly. 
 " If you doubt me, why choose me, of all your followers, for this 
 secret enterprise — for secret, I ween, you intend to keep it ; — and 
 why think me unworthy, when in all good faith, I profter you my 
 services?" , 
 
 " Be not chafed. Sir Minstrel," replied the Baron, attempting 
 to smile, " for I will answer your questions with candour. With 
 other men, I confess, I woidd stoop to palter ; but with you, 
 who would detect my duplicity, I will deal bluntly. I choose
 
 16- THE MFK AND TIMES OF 
 
 vou, then, because, as I said before, there is that in your face 
 whicli betrays what you would fain hide, a fellowship with evil ; — 
 and I noticed to night, when my other followers were moved by 
 the tricks of yon deserted bastard, that you met his intrusion with 
 a churlish rebuke, and seemed anxious that he should be visited 
 with indig'n punishment. By minute incidents, good Walter, the 
 characters of men may often be educed ; and therefore, though 
 I might have doubted the verity of your countenance, I have 
 other and sufficient evndence of your misanthropy." 
 
 " "^'ou pay me a comjiliment which I will endeavour to deserve, 
 my lord," said the minstrel, whose equanimity seemed altogether 
 impe:'turbable. 
 
 " Compliments are not the coin with which I propose to reward 
 you," rejoined Sir Alfred, " and, as we now understand one another, 
 I will ])roceed to the immediate matter, premising, good Walter, 
 that a hundred broad pieces, in addition to this brilliant, which I 
 give you as earnest, will be your wages if you undertake this 
 business." 
 
 " And now, my lord, that you have named the guerdon, 
 perhaps you will name the duty," observed the minstrel. 
 
 " 'Tis well," replied the IBaron, taking from his vest a sacred 
 relic, which, chastely set in gold, was attached to a guard of 
 the same costly material, and thereby secured round his neck ; 
 " but you must first swear — swear on this fragment of the true 
 cross — that you will never divulge, to saint or sinner, man or devil, 
 friend or foe, the secret I now intrust to you, and which, I find, 
 at least one woman is in possession of." 
 
 Tliere was something of a sneer in the tone in which the 
 minstrel replied; " Knowing me. Baron of Arkton, as you say 
 you do, to have fellowship with evil, or, to speak bluntly, with 
 the author of evil, I marv-el that you think a priest's bauble 
 could assure you of my silence, or that I would regard an oath 
 with greater awe than an unsanctified promise." 
 
 " At present, Walter," rejoined the baron, " you may not ; 
 but when death lays his icy hand on your faculties, then you 
 may be visited with compunction, and, betraying the confidence 
 I am about to repose in you, implicate me in your confession." 
 
 " Your secret must be important, my lord, to need such an 
 outwork," obserA'ed the minstrel, " and therefore, though I would 
 keep my promise equally sacred, 1 will take the oath." 
 
 The minstrel, as he ceased speaking, fell on his knees ; and, 
 swearing that he would never reveal the secret intrusted to him, 
 kissed the relic, and resumed his seat. 
 
 " Tliat child whom you repulsed to night," said the Baron, 
 " that bold bov whom you would have chastised, mu.<>t die." 
 
 " \ do not. faint at a proposal so harmless," replied the minstrel, 
 shrugging his shoulders, " but I would fain know wherefore he 
 is to suffer." 
 
 " His mother," cried Sir Alfred, starting from his seat, " his 
 mother, the only woman I ever loved — start not, for I did love
 
 IJICK WMITTINGTON. 17 
 
 her, by Heavens ! — cursed me with her last gasp. Yes ! with 
 her imageless eyes fixed on death, even with the death-rattle 
 ringing in her throat, she cursed me; she did, by God!" he 
 continued, with increased excitation, " and therefore I hate her. 
 I hate her nameless issue, I hate the dead man for whom I was 
 rejected, and, by my soul ! I will quench my hatred in the blood 
 of them all." 
 
 The Baron, while he thus expressed his determination, exhibited 
 every sign of the most intense passion. His complexion became 
 livid, his eyes roUed in their sockets, the veins of his forehead 
 were swollen almost to bursting, and he gave a terrific emphasis 
 to his words by striking his clenched fist on the table. 
 
 " If you wish this business to remain a secret," observed the 
 minstrel, entirely unmoved by the demeanour of his master, 
 " you had better speak in a lower tone, my lord. Besides, 'twere 
 well to make sure of the identity of the child ; for, bj^ the woman's 
 account, he has been four years in the house, and, during that 
 time, you cannot have seen him. You know not but that the 
 story of his noble birth is a fabrication." 
 
 " Listen, Walter," replied Sir Alfred, " and I will prove to 
 you that it is but too true. Suspicion crossed me directly I saw 
 his face ; but, though the likeness was so apparent as to awaken 
 the surprise of all, I needed further evidence before I could be 
 convinced. A scarlet cross, which nature has stamped upon his 
 breast, proved to me that he was the same child that I had con- 
 demned to death at the moment of his birth, and I was fully 
 confirmed in this opinion by the story of the loquacious hostess." 
 
 " Gramerev, my lord!" rejoined the minstrel, " I marvel, if you 
 purposed his death directly after he was born, that you did not then 
 see to its execution." 
 
 " 1 woidd have done so, Walter," returned the Baron, " had I 
 not trusted to a viUain." 
 
 Tlie minstrel expressed his disapprobation of the epithet by 
 shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 " Aye; and a traitor too," continued the Baron," for never did 
 there breathe a more arrant lorel than Hubert Cromwell. He paid 
 dearly for his treachery however. I suspected him from the first, 
 though he assured me the child was murdered, and actually produced 
 a mutilated corpse. I watched him too, and, having traced him 
 several times to a neighbouring town, I waited one night for his 
 return ; and, meeting him in the middle of the Tone ford, I 
 stabbed him, and threw him from his horse into the water. I 
 tell you this, good Walter, that you may know I am not to be 
 played with, and that, where I place confidence, I am vigilant 
 and suspicious. 
 
 " You will have no more need to suspect me henceforward than 
 you have had hitherto," said the minstrel proudly. " But the deed 
 cannot, of course, be done here : and I know not how we can carry 
 him off privately." 
 
 " I have thought of that, good minstrel," replied Sir Alfred.
 
 18 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " We will leave this place at dawn, and, during the confusion which 
 our sudden departure will create, you can steid the child from his 
 bed without attracting notice. If he be asleep, carry him off, and 
 ride slowly forward ; but if he awaken, and raise an alarm, make 
 shorter work of it. You know your guerdon, which, if ^Tiu do the 
 business well, shall be doubled. And now, Walter, slip down to the 
 hall; and mind, the child sleeps in the farther corner." 
 
 Thus dismissed, the minstrel, after enacting his usual obeisance, 
 retired from the dormitory of his lord ; and, descending stealthily to 
 the hall, found his comrades stretched in a heap before the fire.
 
 JJH'I WHirnXUTON. 19 
 
 CHAPTER III. THE APPARITION. 
 
 OF THE MANNER IN WHICH THE MINSTREL PERFORMED HIS PROMISE 
 
 THE ABDUCTION OF HENRY THE DEPARTURE OF SIR ALFRED 
 
 THE PURSUIT BY WILLIAMS SIR ALFRED RETURNS THE CAUSE 
 
 OF THE PURSUIT SIR ALFRED RENEWS HIS JOURNEY OF THE 
 
 CJNVERSATION OF WIUTTINGTON THE ELDER, AND HIS COMPA- 
 NION, VASSALS OF SIR ALFRED THE HISTORY OF THE SINCLAIR 
 
 FAMILY OF THE QUARREL BETWEEN WHITTINGTON AND HIS 
 
 SPOUSE OF THE GHOST OF HUBERT CROMWELL OF THE 
 
 MANNER IN WHICH THE MINSTREL DISPOSED OF HENRY, AND OP 
 
 THE ORDERING OF THE BAROn's RECEPTION AT THE CASTLE 
 
 THE baron's CHAMBER THE CONFERENCE WITH THE MIN- 
 STREL THE MIDNIGHT MEETING THE PROJECTED ASSASSINA- 
 TION INTERRUPTED BY THE APPARITION OF HUBERT CROM- 
 WELL THE PLIGHT OF THE BARON's COMPANION THE BAROn's 
 
 CONFUSION MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF THE CHILD. 
 
 On the morning which was ushered in by the conversation detailed 
 in the last chapter, at a httle before the untimely hour of six, the 
 Baron of Arkton and his retinue were ready to renew their joumev. 
 It could hardly be called morning ; for in the sky, which had been 
 abstersed by the heavy fall of snow on the preceding night, the 
 galaxy was still visible, and not a solitary ray of light, save that 
 which the stars emitted, announced the dawn of the sluggish dav. 
 The ground, the trees, every object on which the eye could rest, was 
 clad in a surcoat of snow, which, though it was considerably more 
 than a foot in profundity, was rendered impervious to the foot by a 
 current frost. The ccld was intense, and the circumambient scene 
 was the perfect presentment of the gloomy. The five horses, which 
 stood ready caparisoned before the hostelry door, waited impatiently 
 for the spur which was to set them in motion, and the two men-at- 
 arms who held them, and who were equally ahve to the influence of 
 the frost, could scarcely withstand their attempts at emancipation. 
 At length the minstrd issued from the hostelry, and, taking the rein 
 of his horse in his left hand, was about to mount ; but one of the 
 men-at-arms rudely interposed, and bade him wait the presence of 
 the Baron, from whom, according to the etiquette which then 
 prevailed, the signal for mounting was to emanate. Sir Alfred, who 
 was too much interested in the proceedings of the minstrel to lose 
 sight of him for any length of time, made his appearance at this 
 critical moment ; and, apprehensive that his detention would bring
 
 20 THK LIFK AND TIMES OK 
 
 to lie:ht a scheme which he wished to conceal, vociferated an order 
 or his instant release. The minstrel, having mounted his horse, 
 pushed forwards into a gentle canter ; and the haron and his esquire 
 l)rcaking into the s-ame pace, the two men-at-arms brought up the 
 rear at their leisure. 
 
 The foremost of the party had not advanced a hundred yards, 
 however, when a shout which issued from the hostelry, and which 
 was followed bv the personal a])])earance of Master Williams and his 
 spouse, deranged, for the moment, the order of their march. It was 
 a matter of surprise, to three of the company, that the baron 
 exhil)ited much confusion at this incident. Nevertheless, to do him 
 iustice, he did not seem to hear the stentorojjhonic halloo to which 
 the lungs of his quondam host gave utterance, but when, on directing 
 his followers to expedite their movements, that circumstance was 
 resppctfullv intimated to him by his esquire, it was somewhat singu- 
 lar, the latter ])erson thought, that he ])ersisted in his commands to 
 proceed. Williams, however, was not thus to be evaded. Though 
 not fleet of foot, he was so animated by several cheering cries which 
 escaped his irate partner, that he pursued the fugitives some distance, 
 shouting at inten-als, when he could muster sufficient breath ; and 
 the i^aron, fearful that flight would only increase suspicion if any 
 existed, determined at last to confront him himself. He accordingly 
 directed his followers to ride slowly onwards, and, quitting them, 
 returned to meet the breathless Williams. Tlie latter slackened his 
 pace immediately he perceived the intentions of the Baron, who, as 
 the distance between them did not exceed a hundred yards, was soon 
 up with him. 
 
 " What seek vou ?" he cried, with his usual haughtiness. 
 
 " The minstrel " — replied Williams, who, being breathless with 
 running, made a sudden stoj). 
 
 " What has he done?" said the Baron, fearfid that a discovery 
 had taken place. 
 
 " He has" — but his breath could carry him no further, and 
 Master Williams paused to respire. 
 
 Brief as was the interval which the innkeeper required for 
 respiration, and momentan.' as was the pause which thereupon 
 ensued, he might, had he been gifted with the commonest powers 
 of penetraticm, have observed something in the aspect of the 
 Karon wliich was not only strange, but absolutely startling. He 
 would, indeed, have been justified, however important the com- 
 munication which he was about to make, in transferring his 
 attention from the minstrel to his lord. But Master Wilhams 
 was by no means a man of the world, or, to speak in plain 
 language, he was not versed in the world's darker practices, and 
 was, consequently, unacquainted with their pathologv. Of these, 
 though they were somewhat obscured by the surrounding darkness, 
 the Baron's countenance exhibited the most orthodox outlines. 
 There was the firm, knitted brow that meditates outrage, the 
 fixed eye that beams atrocity, the pursed lip which could sneer
 
 UICK WHITTINGTON. 21 
 
 at human suffering, the consciousness of guilt, and the apprehension 
 of discovered crime, — there were all these peering through the pallor 
 of his ashy face, but the eye of WilUams could not detect them. 
 Liar ! was hanging on the Baron's lips, and the handle of his 
 rapier was in his hand : the enunciation of the epithet would 
 have heralded the death of him to whom it was applied, when, 
 recovering his breath, Williams explained himself. 
 
 " He has left his harp behind, my lord," he said, and produced 
 the lyre, which, being otherwise freighted, the minstrel had been 
 unable to carry. 
 
 The Baron recovered his equanimity in a moment. " Grammercy, 
 good fellow!" he cried, " you are a careful host. Yon lazy hounds 
 of mine, who like well to hear his carol, should have been more 
 careful of our minstrel's chattels : but prithee keep it now, good 
 host, till we visit your hostelry again." 
 
 The Baron spurred his steed into a smart gallop, which he 
 maintained till he had overtaken his company. He then rode up 
 to the right of his esquire, who respectfully explained to him 
 the impropriety which he had committed in returning to Williams ; 
 but as his lord did not condescend to answer him, he thought 
 it pinident to defer liis remonstrance till some more favourable 
 hour, and he assumed, like the remainder of the party, a moody 
 silence. The country through which they passed, indeed, was 
 not calculated to excite conversation. It was, even in the summer 
 season, dreary ; and now that it was covered with snow — which, not- 
 withstanding, considerably improved the road — -it presented an 
 aspect of desolation which was really dispiriting. As the morning 
 advanced, however, and the stars imperceptibly retired from the 
 sky, our equestrians became more free and animated; and on 
 passing through a small village with which they seemed to be 
 acquainted, the two hindmost horsemen interchanged their opinions 
 of the weather in language appropriate to the theme. The speakers 
 were the two men-at-arms, who. after they had execrated Jack Frost 
 to their hearts' content, began to expatiate on other and more 
 important topics. 
 
 "By my hohdame, Dick Whittington ! " observed the tallest 
 of the two, " I know not what to make of our Baron of late. 
 From his birth I may say, he has been a gloomy bird, though 
 often a goodly ; but latterly, within these few days I mean, he 
 has been sour, nauseous, Dick, quite nauseous." 
 
 " You are an excellent judge of a man's temper, no doubt, 
 Rowland," returned the other ; " and therefore I marvel, that 
 seeing that I am in no mood for talking, you should stiU force 
 your prattle on me." 
 
 " Ha! ha! ha!" roared Rowland, " I warrant me, Dick, you 
 are thuiking of that blue-eyed wench I saw you talking with one 
 night. But, ugh!" he cried, as he observed a change creep 
 over the countenance of his companion, " what ails you, Dick ? 
 Has your leman proved false }"
 
 *J'2 THK LIKE AND TIMliS OI' 
 
 " A truce to your gibes, my gatter," replied Wliittington, who 
 was evidently annoyed at the insinuation of his companion, " for 
 bv mv faith ! you could not touch me on a tenderer place. But 
 since you must give the rein to your tongue, malapert, let me 
 hear what you think of this last passage of arms at Taunton. 
 What think you of the Baron's bearing there ?" 
 
 " Now you have me in a corner, Dick," replied Rowland, 
 " for my father's son should not - speak of a Sinclair's defeat. 
 Have at you though ! for if he was thrown at last, he held his 
 ground for a gallant space. Truly, tlien, I think his bearing was 
 knightlv, and my malison be on the spear that unseated him." 
 
 "Go to!" cried Wliittington, smiling, "your judgment is 
 perverted by prejudice. Ti\ink you, that unknown knight did not 
 unhorse him gallantly ?" 
 
 " To your eye, Dick," returned Rowland, " to your eye, mayhap. 
 But heard vou never of such things as charms and witchcraft .'' 
 Bv St. George ! if I had been Marshal of the tonrnev, I would 
 have an-ainged that unknown knight — the Ev\\ One himself for 
 aught we know, for practising art magic. Aye, laugh on, but I 
 tell you, Dick, I never saw a Sinclair thrown before." 
 
 " Well," said Whittington, checking the laughter in which he 
 had been indulging, " tliey must be wonders of chivalry, then. But 
 you are prejudiced, my gossip, and I am free to judge ; for you were 
 born in the family, and I am only a stranger serv^ant. To tell you 
 sooth, too, I care not bow soon I am discharged." 
 
 " Go to, for a fool, then !" rejoined Rowland ; " for if Sir Alfred 
 be sullen, which I deny not, no lord in the country is more liberal in 
 largess. Let him l)ut get a lady fair, and mayhap the castle will see 
 old times back again." 
 
 " The old times diflered from the present, then, I suppose," 
 observed Whittington. " I should like to hear something of your 
 voung days, gossip." 
 
 " Ah ! the times have indeed changed since then, Dick," replied 
 Rowland, mournfully. " The old baron and his son Henry, the elder 
 brother of Sir Alfred, were the finest cavaliers in the countr\' ; and 
 Master Alfred, as my lord was then called, was scarce a whit behind 
 them in deeds of chivalry. I was page to Master Henry ; and if ever 
 there was a good master, he was one. There was Hubert Cromwell, 
 too, a gallant fellow, and a greater adej)t at song than our churl of a 
 minstrel there, reared as he has been to the gay science. He and 
 inv voung lord were alwavs together, and loved each other like born 
 brf)thers ; but at last, on some trifle or other, they fell out ; and then 
 Hubert attached himself to Master Alfred, and my lord and he were 
 never friends again." 
 
 " And what said the old lord to this ?" asked Whittington. 
 
 " Oh, he took no notice of it," returned Rowland, " though 
 
 Hubert and Master Alfred's friendship was talked of by every one 
 
 pise. My master, however, soon offended his father more than he 
 
 had done Hubert. Ho married tlie daughter of some poor knight
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 23 
 
 who bad been killed in the wars, not only without license, but without 
 so much as telhng his father. Then, to crown all, he went off as 
 esquire to the Black Prince, and left his lady behind at the castle. 
 His father died ; and his poor lady also, having been told of his 
 death — for he was killed in the wars in France — died within the 
 year. The strangest thing, however, relates to Hubert, who disap- 
 peared about a month after the poor lady's death ; and they say his 
 ghost — our Lady assoil him ! — has been seen in the castle very often 
 of late." 
 
 " I have heard of this ghost — may God a;^soilize him!" said 
 Wliittington, crossing himself. "And is not this enough to scare 
 you from the castle, my master ? I would face the quick any day, 
 
 and defy them to the death ; but dead men our Lady of Mercy 
 
 presei-ve us from their visitations !" 
 
 "Amen!" devoutly responded the other. "But you know, 
 gossip Dick, the ghost confines himself to the southern turret — that 
 being the place which Hubert occupied when living ; and he has never 
 been known to transgress those bounds, within the which, indeed, he 
 is perfectly quiet and harmless. But to leave this dismal subject, 
 which is not likely to increase our courage, prythee teU me something 
 of vour leman, Dick ; for the glimpse I had of her proved her to be a 
 fair damsel, and a modest." 
 
 " Trouble me not concerning her," cried Whittington, " for all 
 the fire of purgatory, trebly heated, could not purify her of crime. 
 She is false as hell itself." 
 
 " Nay, then, Dick," rejoined Rowland, " I grieve that I spoke to 
 thee about her. Be sure, though, as you value your peace, that you 
 have not been hasty in your conclusions." 
 
 " Pshaw!" said Whittington, biting his lip till the blood oozed 
 out, " do you think I would take pains to make myself a cuckold } 
 Am I one of those jealous dotards who make their lives miserable with 
 such unprofitable speculations.?" 
 
 " Not to offend, gaff'er," replied Rowland," but I would say, in 
 sad sooth, I have often thought you were so inclined." 
 
 " Zounds !" cried Whittington," I was an unwilling witness of 
 her guilt. I saw her, with these eyes, fondling with a fellow that she 
 calls her master — a lorel of a merchant, a pale-faced booby of a trader; 
 nay, a Jew, for aught I know. The fellow threw me too, when, on 
 his leaving the cottage, I assailed him. She found me lying there, 
 maltreated by her paramour, vanquished by her seducer ; and, when I 
 accused her of her crime, she wept, and said, if I knew all, I would 
 never have struck him." 
 
 Whether Whittington' s companion believed or doubted this repre- 
 sentation of the matter, which will be fully explained in a subsequent 
 chapter of this histoiy, he did not attempt either to impugn or to 
 palliate it ; and, as Whittington himself was too full of spleen to 
 renew the conversation, they receded into the silence which their 
 mutual volubility had induced them to break. Thev had not far to 
 go, however, before they reached the castle of Arkton ; of which
 
 24 THi; LIFE AND TIMES OF" 
 
 building, as it was? the ancestral residence of Sir Alfred Sinclair, and 
 the locality to which the horsemen were now journeying, this history 
 must take some notice. 
 
 It was situated near the summit of an acclivity, which, though 
 gentle, commanded an extensive view of the surrounding country. 
 The barbican, and the northern and southern wings, formed, with 
 the central portion of the edifice, the great court, or inner ballicun, 
 which was quadrangular in figure ; and the keep, or donjon, fronted 
 the ])ortcullised gatewav, which defended the ap])roac.hes. The 
 bastion at the extremitv of cither wing, surmounted by turrets ot 
 considerable dimensions, was illuminated by w^indows which looked 
 into a contiguous park ; and in the north front, facing the rising sun, 
 a beautiful oriel window was pre-eminent. The whole of the other 
 windows, which exhibited such diversity of fonn as to leave no doubt 
 of the castle having been the undertaking of different ages, were 
 adorned with rich freestone casings ; and the various styles in which 
 thev were worked did not render them unsightly or even unpleasing. 
 The keep w^as the onlv object in the tableau which assimilated with 
 barbarism ; and even this gloomy erection, to one of a poetical turn 
 of mind, was not destitute of interest. It was evidently the most 
 ancient piece in the building ; and owed its origin, perhaps, to some 
 of the later Saxons. Few could look for the first time on its dark, 
 frowning walls, broken here and there by a narrow loop-hole, without 
 associating them with the romance of chivalry or of crime ; and the 
 eve would involuntarily turn from the battlemented top, where a 
 banner waved proudly in the morning breeze, to the broad platform 
 beneath, where many a gallant heart had bitten the dust. Being 
 from its altitude, however, the more conspicuous object, it was a sad 
 incongruence liehind the handsome though massy gateway. This 
 was principally composed of fi'ecstone, richly wrought ; and, though 
 the ornamental workmanship was rather light in its character, it har- 
 monised agreeably as a whole. 
 
 The castle stood on a paddock, at the extremity of an extensive 
 deer-park, and was guarded on three sides by a moat of the usual 
 width, which had formerly sun-ounded the whole. The fourth side, 
 or, rather, the front, was now separated from the road by the rampart 
 onlv, which, indeed, was a sufficient defence. Facing the barbacan, 
 on the opposite side of the road, was a rude cross, having, on a small 
 compartment near the centre, this inscrijjtion : 
 
 ♦♦ 3ln l^oc .Signo." 
 
 As our horsemen ajjproached this edifice, or, rather, as the person 
 of the minstrel, who was considerably ahead of the others, became 
 visible to the watchman over the principal entrance, he announced 
 the circumstance to the garrison by ringing a large alami-bell, which 
 summoned them forth to greet the return of their lord. The pon- 
 derous gate was thrown open, and during the confusion occasioned 
 by the assembhng of the men-at-arms, the archers, and the other 
 militants composing the garrison, who afterwards formed themselves
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 25 
 
 in files on either side of the avenue, the minstrel had an opportunity 
 of retreating to the southern wing of the building unperceived ; and, 
 leaving his horse at liberty in the court, he ascended a staircase that 
 led to a turreted chamber, which, after a moment's hesitation, he 
 entered . 
 
 The Baron and his train had by this time, amidst a flourish of 
 trumpets, and cries of " Sinclair for ever ! " passed beneath the 
 archway of the gate, and emerged between the phalanx which his 
 retainers formed on each side of the roadway. He acknowledged 
 their enthusiastic greetings by throwing some pieces of money amongst 
 them ; and, though a few only of the crowd succeeded in obtaining 
 possession of the coin, cries of " Largess ! largess ! Sinclair for 
 ever!" arose from the whole. The Baron passed on to the castle- 
 hall ; and thence, when he had dismissed his attendants, he retired to 
 his chamber. 
 
 He seated himself in an easy chair, and folding his right over his 
 left leg, and burying his chin in the palms of his hands, he rested his 
 elbows on his knees, and indulged in meditation. He had remained 
 in this posture but a few minutes, when a rap at the chamber-door 
 announced a visiter, who, at the baron's command, ushered himself 
 into his presence. 
 
 " Well, Sir Minstrel," said Sir Alfred, " you have brought your 
 charge safe to the castle, I suppose }" 
 
 " Yes, my lord," replied the minstrel, 
 
 " 'Tis well," obsei-ved the Baron. " But did he not waken before 
 you arrived here ? " 
 
 " He did, my lord," returned the minstrel; " but I showed him 
 this poniard ; and partly with kind words, and partly with threats, I 
 contrived to keep him quiet." 
 
 " Ah, Walter ! M^alter !" groaned the Baron, "why did you not 
 use this poniard ? You might have done me good service on 
 the road." 
 
 " I was afraid of exceeding my instructions, my lord," rejoined 
 the minstrel. 
 
 " Why, certes," said the Baron, musing, " I will be better satisfied 
 if I see him die the death. I could strike the blow myself, for I fear 
 not to do the deed ; but he is like my mother ; and the strongest 
 minds will bend to such deep associations. But where have you 
 bestowed him ?" 
 
 " In the southern turret, my lord." 
 
 " The southern turret !" cried the Baron, springing from his seat. 
 ' What — what, in the devil's name, led you thither .''" 
 
 " Simply, my lord, a wish to escape observation." 
 
 " Certes, it will do that," said Sir Alfred, in a sarcastic tone; 
 " for not a man in my pay would enter it alone. There is no place 
 more likely to keep a secret. But the ghost. Sir Minstrel, the 
 ghost " 
 
 " Do you beheve in it }" asked the minstrel. 
 
 " Such things have been," replied the Baron.
 
 2G THli LIKK AND TIMKS OF 
 
 " Do you fear him ?" 
 
 " Fear !" echoed the bai'on ; " fear ! I feared not to strike him 
 down ; and shall I fear him dead ?" 
 
 The baron, as he spoke, endeavoured to regain his composure ; 
 but he could not hide, from an eye so penetrating as that of the 
 minstrel, the shallowness of his pseudo and affected equanimity. 
 The pale cheek, and the quivering lip, betrayed the fears vvliich pride 
 would not descend to acknowledge ; and the l)eads of cold perspira- 
 tion that stood on his brow, as well as the ill-dissembled firmness of 
 his voice, showed plainly enough, that he was too deeply imbrued 
 with the superstitious ideas of the age to doubt the existence of the 
 reputed apparition. His credulity, nevertheless, would not have 
 exposed him to the ridicule of his contemporaries. The behef in 
 supernatural visitations was almost universal ; and as it was suffered, 
 if not disseminated, by the clergy, the strongest and haughtiest minds 
 did not scruple to entertain it. There was, notwithstanding, some- 
 ^thing of contempt in the minstrel's look, and of irony in his speech, 
 as he renewed the conversation. 
 
 " WiU you have the child taken to a less retired part of the castle, 
 my lord ?" 
 
 " Had you done this at first," answered the Baron, " it might have 
 been better : but now — no, let him remain where he is." 
 " What time would you like to visit him, my lord }" 
 " The Baron hesitated. " Only I have sworn," he said, at last, 
 " to be present when the deed is done, 'twere better you could visit 
 him alone. Bat wait for me by the turret-door at midnight ; and, if 
 the Devil himself appear, we will about our work." 
 
 The minstrel bowed his acquiescence, and retired from the 
 chamber. He was shortly followed by his lord, who, hurrying down 
 to the great court, assembled his retainers, and strove, by employing 
 his mind in exercising them, to banish the morbid melancholv which 
 the contemplated murder excited. The moments between the con- 
 ception and execution of an important project, the lingering hours 
 which intervene, the intermediate suspense and deliberation of conse- 
 quences, are, under any circumstances, productive of the most painful 
 sensations to which humanity is liable ; and though, when motives 
 are sinless, hope gives a feverish and empirical excitation to the 
 healthier organs of our constitution, yet the mischief occasioned by 
 reaction, the lassitude produced l)y disappointment, and even the 
 revolution caused by the sudden realization of our wishes, is too often 
 irreparable. The time so expended will be found the most unprofit- 
 able, as well as the least grateful, in the reckoning of human life. 
 But when the mind ponders on a projected assassination, when every 
 avenue to the heart is guarded by an evil passion, how dreadful, how 
 insupportable must be the agitation which ])ervades the diseased 
 frame ! Such, from the minstrel's departure tiU the hour of mid- 
 night, was the condition of Sir Alfred Sinclair ; and it is, therefore, 
 but reasonable to suppose, that, though there could not exist a more 
 resolute soldier in the field, he would be peculiarly open, in such a
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 27 
 
 state of mind, to all the barbarous superstitions of the era in which 
 he hved. He thought the intervening- hours would never expire ; 
 but, at length, the appointed time arrived. The Baron wrapped him- 
 self in his cloak, and, descending to the haU, emerged into the 
 spacious court. 
 
 There was a stillness and darkness around, that weU accorded 
 with the undertaking which he was about to superintend. Tlie cold 
 had not in the least diminished, and the ground was still covered 
 with snow, which, besides the unseasonableness of the hour, detained 
 his household within doors ; and the only persons who were likely to 
 encounter him were the several sentinels, whose ubiety he knew well 
 how to avoid. He proceeded, therefore, without interruption, to the 
 southern turret, where, in the shadow of the buttress, he found his 
 confederate, Tlie latter was, like the Baron, muffled up in an ample 
 cloak, that served both to keep him warm and to conceal a lamp, 
 which, when they entered the turret, he drew from its hiding-place. 
 
 The Baron and his attendant did not interchange a syllable ; but, 
 as they ascended the staircase, the former turned round to look in 
 the other's face, probably to see if he exhibited any sign of fear. 
 His cloak was so arranged, however, that it was impossible to detect 
 either his features or their expression ; and the Baron, somewhat dis- 
 concerted, moodily renewed his ascension. The summit of the stairs 
 spread into a small passage, whence a narrow door, on either side of 
 the bannister- circled area, opened to the inner apartments. Into one 
 of these the Baron and his companion entered ; and though the former 
 thought he heard a retreating footfall as he opened the door, he did 
 not communicate this circumstance to the latter. 
 
 The room was small in compass, and exhibited, with the dust and 
 marks of decay which time had suffered to accumulate, the remains 
 of a more costly age. One side, that opposite to the door, was still 
 hung with tapestrv, which, however, had lost its primitive complexion ; 
 and the oak- roof and panneling, once cai'ved with figures in relief, 
 still presented a handsome appearance. A pallet bed, such as were 
 then in use, was stretched lengthways from the small casement ; and 
 towards this bed, on which a child was reposing, the Baron and his 
 attendant bent their steps. 
 
 " Strike him on the cross !" said the Baron, in a low voice, as he 
 gently raised the clothes from the sleeper's bo.'^om. 
 
 Whatever resolution his confederate might have evinced on former 
 occasions, or however dauntless he might really feel at the passing 
 moment, his hand certainly trembled as he raised his poniard to 
 strike, which he seemed about to do, when a voice, in a sepulchral 
 tone, repeated, " Strike him on the cross !" 
 
 The two started round simultaneously ; and the intenaipted 
 assassin, dropping the lamp, which became extinguished in its 
 descension, ran precipitately from the room, shouting, as he crossed 
 the threshold, " The ghost ! the ghost ! " The person whom he thus 
 characterised bore httle resemblance, beyond pale features and a 
 savage expression of countenance, to the popular representations of 
 castle spectres ; but his sudden and unexpected advent, and the
 
 28 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 sternness of his air, might have alarmed less guilty persons than Sir 
 Alfred Sinclair, who, shrinking back a few paces, cried, as the lamp 
 became extinct, " Hubert Cromwell!" 
 
 The next moment, however, he rushed forward with the energy 
 of des])air ; but he was unable to discriminate, in the darkness which 
 now prevailed, the slightest vestige of the figure which had alarmed 
 him. He groped his way round the room, and at length returned to 
 the bed. In vain : he discovered no trace of the apparition, which 
 had been as transient as it was abrupt. He felt in the bed for the 
 child : his heart beat quick, and he scratched his own hand with the 
 poniard in his agitation ; but — the child was gone !
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 29 
 
 CHAPTER IV. THE VAULT. 
 
 SHOWING HOW THE BARON DISCOVERED A SECRET PASSAGE HOW HE 
 
 ENTERED THEREIN, AND OF THE MYSTERIOUS SOUNDS WHICH HE 
 
 THERE HEARD HOW THE FUGITIVES WERE PURSUED BY THE 
 
 BARON, AND HOW AN ACCIDENT BEFELL THEM HOW THE BARON 
 
 WAS INTERRUPTED IN THE PURSUIT, AND WHAT FURTHER HAP- 
 PENED. 
 
 The revolutions cf the human mind are often as instantaneous 
 as they are wonderful ; and thus, in the succession of vicissitudes, 
 reason is either altogether null, or assumes a greater perspicuitv than 
 is attendant on a state of quietude. A consequence of the latter 
 assumption is, the abrupt change which the passions frequently 
 undergo ; and, further, the opposition of this change. No emotion, 
 perhaps, is so soon subdued, or, rather, so easily wrought into its 
 direct antithesis, as fear ; and yet none is more absolute while it 
 endures. In some constitutions, indeed, fear will undermine con- 
 sciousness ; and, though the latter generally recovers its dominion 
 on the subversion of the former, it sometimes suifers a lasting 
 eclipse. This, however, was not the case with the nervous 
 mind of Sir Alfred. He no sooner discovered that the child 
 had been taken from the bed, and that the apparition which he 
 beheld had vanished, than he became convinced, that, under 
 the mask of supernatural agency, some real and interested per- 
 son had robbed him of his prey. He paused but a moment, 
 bnt in that brief interlapse, a flood of incidents, which had 
 transpired years before, were recalled to his memon,' ; and the 
 evil passions of his nature, which his fears had only discomposed, 
 were again awakened to fur\^ He had failed, then, in his expecta- 
 tions, he thought, and Hubert Cromwell, whom he imagined his 
 own hand had slain, had a second time thwarted his purpose. 
 But then, if such were the case, if Hubert were really ahve, 
 how could he have been deceived so long ? and how, in his own 
 castle, could such an imposture escape detection .'' The Baron did 
 not tarn,^ to satisfy himself on these points ; but, having discovered 
 a secret outlet behind the tapestr}', resolved to pursue the disguised 
 interloper. 
 
 The passage in which he found himself, descended into the 
 wall of the bastion, from the exterior of which a worked crevice 
 admitted air ; and was about five feet in altitude, and two and a half 
 in breadth. ITie bottom was formed of a succession of stone steps.
 
 30 iUE LIFE AM> TIMES OF 
 
 with which the roof descended obUquely : and on one of the 
 sides, both of which were streaming with unwholesome moisture, 
 was a banister, to help the descent. When he had gone a little 
 way down the passage, which slightly decreased in width as he 
 piogressed, he became aware that some person was retiring before 
 him ; and the sound of a retreating footstep, and the cry of a 
 child, which the narrowness of the place rendered audible at some 
 distance, made him more eager in the pursuit. He drew his 
 sword from its sheath, and was hastening on with increased 
 celerity, when, to his utter amazement, a yoice shouted to him 
 in his rear, ('ould it be the delusion of an excited imagination } 
 He paused and the sound ceased ; but, directly he renewed his 
 descent, the yoice was again aiidible. Resolyed, however, to 
 persist in the pursuit, the Baron pushed on, and in a few moments, 
 was once more in hearing of the retreating foot. At length a 
 door was slammed to, and then, though he paused twice to listen, 
 he heard nothing but the yoice behind him, whose shouts ceased 
 wheneyer he halted. The Baron, nevertheless, continued the 
 pursuit ; and on reaching a closed door, which he found \vas 
 fastened on the other side, he assailed it with such energetic 
 kicks, that the crazy fastenings gave way, and, as he pronounced 
 a malediction on the fugitive, the door flew open. A greece of 
 broken steps led him into a subterranean vault, where, as he is 
 little desen'ing of the reader's sympathy, this history will proceed 
 to notice the fugitive. 
 
 He was about twenty yards in advance of the Baron, and was 
 increasing the distance at every stride. The child whom he bore in 
 his arms was crying ; but probably his cries were induced by dismay 
 at the darkness of the vault, for he did not seem to fear the man by 
 whom he was transported ; and who, whenever a cry burst from him, 
 kissed him fondly. When he heard the door give way behind him, 
 he clung closer to the bosom of the man ; and, with a discretion 
 beyond the years of childhood, restrained his cries. At this critical 
 moment, when their capture seemed inevitable, the man stumbled ; 
 and the Baron, who heard him fall, shouted in exultation. The 
 fugitive groaned ; a few strides, which his pursuer's feet were rapidly 
 diminishing, and he would stand, unarmed and hapless, at the mercy 
 of his mortal enemy. He crept softly to the side of the humid 
 vault, and with a hope that the Baron would pass on without dis- 
 covering his ubiety, which, without he groped his way by the wall, 
 might possibly happen, determined to abide his fate. He was not 
 long in sus))ense as to the course which his pursuer would adopt. 
 The latter, on reaching the spot where, as he correctly supposed, the 
 fugitive had stumbled, arrested his steps : and hearing no sound 
 which denoted the vicinity of human beings, Sreemed, bv his remain- 
 ing stationary, to be undecided how to act. His breathing sounded 
 like a death-watch in the ears of the other, whose hand, pressing the 
 cliild's fluttering heart, returned its rapid vibration. It was a dread- 
 ful moment ; and the bravest men, who could look complacently on 
 instant death, wovdd have felt their energies freeze under so severe a 
 test ; but, though no agent was visible, intervention was at hand.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 31 
 
 "Could it be a spirit, indeed?" cried the Baron, somewhat 
 startled at the solemn silence which ensued. 
 
 " Indeed ?" repeated a voice at the upper end of the vault. 
 
 The Baron felt an involuntary thrill pei-vade his frame. " Hubert!" 
 he cried, at length. 
 
 " Hubert !" exclaimed the mysterious voice. 
 
 " Traitor!" vociferated the Baron, assuming the firmness which 
 he did not feel, " do you think to beguile me with your mountebank 
 juggleries ? Disclose your person, and here, a second time, you shall 
 feel the weight of my vengeance !" 
 
 " Peace, Baron of Arkton!" answered the voice, " call not the 
 dead from purgatory- ; but rather hie, ere thou see'st what thou 
 shouldst not, to the regions of day." 
 
 "Traitor! devil! impostor! be thou what thou wilt," shouted 
 the Baron, " reveal thyself!" 
 
 " I am the evil genius of thy house," returned the voice. 
 " When my form is seen, be it midnight or mom, feast or fast, 
 bridal or burial, a Sinclair dies ! And know, that the life thou 
 seekest to-night, though it were in thy hands, thou could' st not 
 destroy ; for ere thy dagger strike him dead, thou can'st not but 
 look on me." 
 
 The Baron had been retiring in the direction of the voice, which 
 retreated before him, for some minutes : but, as he approached the 
 door which he had previously forced, he fell over the steps at its 
 foot. He uttered a fiendish imprecation, which was echoed by the 
 mvsterious voice ; and, grasping his sword in a firmer clutch, started 
 to his feet. 
 
 The bearer of the child thought this accident, which, though he 
 could not see it, the noise made known to him, afforded a favourable 
 opportuuitv of renewing his flight ; but the clatter of his feet, whose 
 heavv tread was reverberated by the paved floor, acquainted the 
 Baron with his purpose. 
 
 The chase was immediately recommenced ; and each party 
 being ners'ed with a powerful incitement, and there being, moreover, 
 a nearly equal balance of strength, the issue was for some minutes 
 doubtful. The Baron, indeed, would probably have relinquished 
 the pursuit, in which so many obstacles seemed combined to 
 thwart him, if the fugitive had remained in liis covert a few 
 moments longer ; but when he heard the retreating footsteps, 
 issuing, too, from the place where, as he had opined, the person 
 he sought was concealed, he concluded, as before, that he was 
 being made the dupe of an art'ullv contrived imposition, it occurred 
 to him, with some show of reason, that the voice which professed 
 to emanate from the evil genius of his house, and whose assertions, 
 at first, he had been inchned to credit, might be that of the 
 minstrel, whom he now suspected of playing a double part ; but 
 how to account for the connexion which must then exist between 
 him and Hubert, or even for the seeming resurrection of the 
 latter, was beyond his comprehension. The fact was, that, in 
 the dreadful excitation of the moment, he confounded the minstrel
 
 ;{0 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 ami Hubert together; and his ideas succeeded each other so 
 rapidly, and were consequently thrown into such a pi-omiscuous 
 heap, that they were entirely inseparable. 
 
 The fugitive kept his way as steadily as the damp, slippery 
 floor would permit ; and, if he was in danger of falling, his pursuer 
 was liable to a like interruption. The child hid his face in the 
 folds of his doublet — for, unlike the generality of ghosts, the man 
 wore the garments of this more substantial world — and whenever 
 he shpped, which he did frequently without falling, his little charge 
 made a bound, as though he would leap from his arms. The 
 fu"-itive knew that he was approaching a door, which, as he could 
 secure it on the other side, would interpose an efl'ectual check to 
 the Baron's progress ; and he doubted not but that he would 
 have time, if he succeeded in this particular, to gain the exterior 
 of the castle unopposed. He knew, too, that the door was open, 
 so that no delay was necessary on the side where delay was dangerous. 
 Tlie opacity, however, was so dense, that no eye could distinguish 
 the outhne of the door ; and he was obliged to maintain his most 
 vigorous pace, when it was equally essential that he should proceed 
 with circumspection, in order to keep a few yards in advance 
 of his pursuer. He heard the sententious respirations of the 
 latter alternately w-ith his own ; but, though the peril was so 
 contiguous, he did not despair. The door of hope was close at 
 hand ; another, another, and another stride, and he must attain 
 it. His eves strained from their sockets into the darkness before 
 him ; but the vision, intense and painful as the effort was, could 
 not detect the beacon. He felt a heavy, deafening blow on his 
 forehead ; he had run against the side of the open door, and 
 was thrown back into a small crypt in the vault. 
 
 A cry from the child, whom the violence of the concussion had 
 almost bereft of sense, directed the Baron to the spot where they 
 lay ; and, groping along by the wall, he discovered the indentation 
 made by the ciypt. Hubert had previously deposited the child in 
 the bottom of the crypt ; and having assumed an erect posture, and 
 drawn three deep respirations, he prepared to struggle with his 
 adversary. The- latter, however, did not, as Hubert expected, grope 
 in search of his person ; but. directly he made out the crypt, drew 
 back a few paces, and launched a blow of his sword at its inmates. 
 H ubert received it on his left shoulder ; but disregarding the wound, 
 which, indeed, was not important, he sprang on the Baron before he 
 could repeat the blow ; and, putting forth all his strength, attempted 
 to throw him. But though this assault was unexpected, the 
 Baron was too powerful to afford an easy conquest ; and each 
 opposed to his antagonist a staunch and immoveable barrier. 
 Hul)ert began to feel his muscles relax ; and though he was 
 aware of a correspondhig weakness in the resistance to his strength 
 he was unal)le to make any effort which would turn this circumstance 
 to his advantage, At this juncture, when the spirits of both began 
 to flag, the IJaron received a blow from a muscular and invincible 
 arm ; and, relin(iuishing his opposition to Hubert, he fell senseless 
 to the ground.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 33 
 
 CHAPTER V. THE RECOGNITION. 
 
 A crowner's quest is convened at the hostelry, and a 
 
 SATISFACTORY VERDICT IS RETURNED A CERTAIN MERCHANT 
 
 RECOGNISES THE BODY OF GERTRUDE WHITTINGTON, AND, AFTER 
 A CONFERENCE WITH WILLIAMS, PROCEEDS TO ARKTON CASTLE. 
 
 On the moraing of the 1st of February, 1364, a httle after the hour 
 of breaking fast, the hostehy of the St. George and the Dragon, 
 situate at the extremity of the village of Taunton-Deans, was the scene 
 of an occurrence of more than ordinary interest. Tlie hostehy itself, 
 as it belonged to a race of hotels which are now extinct, may, perhaps, 
 merit attention. 
 
 Tlie exterior presented no greater pretensions to architectural 
 imiformity than the adjoining hovels, which, with a few more respect-^ 
 able tenements and a small church, comprised the village ; but still, 
 though it was equallv destitute of ornament, it was of a different 
 style of building. The elevation was two stories, terminating in a 
 gable, thatched with straw ; and the front, which was composed fo 
 red brick, occupied a site of nearly thirty feet in length. The door 
 was divided into an upper and lower compartment, as was usual at all 
 the hostelries of the time, and was surmounted by a large board, 
 which, besides intimating the accommodation which might be pro- 
 cured within, bore the sign — " W\t Sancte ©eorgc antF the 
 Sragottltf*" A stable, veiy unassuming in its aspect, was attached 
 to the left end ; and towards the right, a little in advance of the 
 house, was a rude trough, similar in shape to those which still con- 
 stitute an appurtenance to rural inns. Halfway between the road 
 and the hostelry, about a dozen feet from either, were two fine old 
 elms, and round the trunks of these trees, on seats which seemed 
 equally ancient, the fathers of the hamlet had been wont to gather for 
 ages anterior. 
 
 The inside of the hostehy was divided into two compartments, 
 one of which, thence called the hall, was devoted to the reception of 
 guests ; and the other, to the domestic and culinaiy arrangements of 
 the family. The hall was a spacious and airy apartment, lighted by a 
 large bav-window, of the Gothic order, and two smaller casements, 
 which antiquated coljwebs had somewhat obscured. The walls were 
 panelled with stained elm, and decorated with three or four trophies 
 of the chase, composed, principally, of the skulls and antlers of 
 defunct stags ; and the roof, which was gable-formed, was supported 
 
 D
 
 34 THK I.IKK AND JIMKS OK 
 
 by rafters of massy dimensions, adorned with rude though elaborate 
 carvin". The range, or grate, was formed of four perpendicular iron 
 bars, which supported the sides and transverse pieces that held the 
 fire. The chimney was thrown round in fi-ont, in a half-circle ; and 
 on either side, witliin this boundary, were raised seats of cemented 
 brick. A shelf, which ran round the exterior of the chimney, sup- 
 ported three others, which were divided into numerous and irregular 
 squares, and painted a sombre green colour. On the first shelf, 
 arranged with due respect to their size, were paraded the bright brass 
 lamps of the estabhslnnent ; and above them, placed with the same 
 reo-ard for order, were wooden punch-bowls, hooped with tin, and 
 garnished witli little heaps of dried lemon-peel. Last, not least, were 
 arranged several stone jars, which, though rude in their formation, 
 contained, no doubt, liquor beyond price. 
 
 In one of the two recesses, which the chimney formed at the 
 further end of the hall, and separated from the h?Jl itself by a low barrier 
 of wood, was the buttery, or bar. This was occupied on three sides 
 bv broad shelves, two of which were furnished in a similar manner to 
 those above the chimney ; and one, that opposite to the side of the 
 chimncv, was loaded with substantial and inviting eatables. From 
 one of three poles of ash, which crossed the buttery at the top, 
 were suspended some pieces of uncooked beef and a tlitch of bacon ; 
 several strings of onions, and a piece of hung-beef, dangled from 
 the others. 
 
 It was in this apartment that, at the time specified at the com- 
 mencement of this chapter, a short and rather corpulent woman, 
 whose hard features augured a morose disposition, was washing the 
 limbs of an infant of recent birth ; and occasionally, as the helpless 
 babe gave utterance to a shrill cry, inflicting on its back a slap of her 
 open hand. This ci-uelty, though almost unnatural, was not out of 
 character with the woman's appearance, than which nothing could 
 be more repulsive or. disagreeable. Her dress alone, notwithstanding 
 that it was in conformity with the costume then cuiTent, was so ill 
 adapted to her face and figure, so calculated to reveal everj'^ personal 
 defect, that few could have looked on her without disgust. Her 
 jacket was made of dcrk, and fitted tight to her person. It cur\-ed, 
 from the centre of the waist, into two jjointcd lappets, which fell over 
 her hi])s, where, attached to one of the lappets, a bunch of keys was 
 dangling by a coid. Her petticoat was of an inconvenient length, both 
 before and behind, and trailed several inches on the ground, entirely 
 concea'ing, and perhaps impeding, the motions of her feet. Her 
 hood, which resemliled in shape the dunce's cap of a village-school, 
 was worn close till it reached her chin, w-hence it descended, in a 
 semi-circular tippet, over her shoxdders and back. 
 
 " A mfdison on thee ! " she cried, as she shook the child with both 
 her hands ; " your dam has escaped a saucy brat. Bodikins ! but you 
 shall change your quarters to-day. Tlie parish must go to charges 
 for you, must it, you whip ?" 
 
 The speaker was here interrupted by the entrance of a third 
 person, over whom, it seemed, she had a more legitimate right to
 
 DICK WHITTINGTOX. 3.5 
 
 exercise her authority. He was rather low in stature ; ]>ut lie made 
 up for his pai-vitude by a proportionate rotundity of bulk ; and his 
 rubicund \-isag'e, save for a certain expression of the eye, atoned for 
 his want of beauty. 
 
 " So ho, jackanapes !" shouted the woman, as the intruder, taking 
 off his hat, seated himself on a settle near the door, " j'ou 're going to 
 turn fine gentleman, I ween ! Stir yourself, sirrah, and scatter some 
 sand over the floor ; or the Crowner will be here before the place 
 is readv." 
 
 " Hasn't the Crowner come yet, then ?" asked the other, as he 
 rose to obey the woman's bidding. 
 
 " Dost see him }" asked the virago. 
 
 Williams — for he it was — did not return any answer to this 
 inquirv ; for it was expressed in a tone which, in his experienced 
 judgment, forbade a reply. He therefore proceeded to sand the floor 
 in silence, and, when he had accomphshed this task, applied himself to 
 the arrangement of other household matters. Round an expansive 
 table, which stood in the centre of the room, he placed several long 
 settles, that, notwithstanding their weight, he handled with easy 
 dexterity. Scarcely had he effected this disposition of the furniture, 
 which his Avife was beginning to "vatuperate, when a tall and portly 
 individual, followed by a living shadow of a man, who bore a pon- 
 derous book and inkhom, marched at a solemn and regular pace into 
 his presence. 
 
 " Good morrow, mine host!" he cried, seizing Williams by the 
 hand, and at the same time dropping a famihar nod to the hostess. 
 " How fares your house, gossip .''" 
 
 Before WUhams could replv, he was accosted by the slim per- 
 sonage, who, imitating the action and manner of his superior, cried, 
 " Good morrow, mine host ! How fares your house, gossip ?" 
 
 " Why, sirs," replied Williams, " Providence is bountiful, I may 
 say ; and, but for this sad business " 
 
 " Sad business !" cried the visiters simultaneously ; " it 's a felo 
 de se, then, is it .'" 
 
 Williams, who was unacquainted with law terms, and thought 
 that a felo de se meant a sudden death, replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " Haste, Whittal, and summon the jurors !" cried the portly man 
 to his slender companion. 
 
 The slender man vanished. 
 
 " And now, mine host," continued the portly stranger, who, as 
 his language bespoke him, was the Coroner,* or, as he was then 
 called, Crowner of the district, " give me a cup of your oldest October. 
 
 * In the " Lex Cnronatoria," by Edward Umfrcville, it is stated, that, by 
 the statute 1., Edward 2d, cap. 1, the office of Crowner was usually held by 
 Knights of Tenure, or Freeholders, having the annual income of £20. This class 
 of Knights constituted the " milites habeutes terrara," in contra-distinction to the 
 Knights of Chivalry, or " milites uon habeutes terram, and were the grade 
 between the Aristocracy and the Scjkemen, or those who held by the plough. 
 
 The duties of the Crowner were multifarious. He had to test all weights and 
 measures in his district, keep the picas of the peace, and record all matters which 
 ajiportained to the peace and good government of the county.
 
 3C rilK MKE AND TIMES OF 
 
 I waiTiuit me, this case would puzzle your common crowners, and 
 your burg'hers. and your juries, and your sokemen ; but, mark me, 
 mine host ; mark m}' master)' of the law, and see how the evidence 
 will be canvassed, and weisrhcd, and cut up, and exposed, and 
 exauiined, aiul delivered. I trow there be few crowners, my gaffer, 
 so well read in the law ; and few, furthermore, so honest hi their 
 vocation. Ho, ho, mine host! this flagon has a false bottom. 
 There, there, fill it up again, and we '11 say no more about it. But 
 tell me, now vou have replenished the cup, what are the premises of 
 this case .'" 
 
 " W\\v, Sir Cro^^^ler," said Williams, " there 's the tenement, and 
 the stable, and the " 
 
 " Ay," said the Crowner, " but the premises of the casualty, or, if 
 vou like it better, of the/e/o de se?" 
 
 " She's laid out in the stable," answered Williams. 
 
 " Good," rejoined the Crowner : " but the circumstance, the par- 
 ticulars, the facts, the evidences, and the witnesses, mine host ? " 
 
 " I 'm the only one," replied W^illiams. 
 
 " Oh ! and you say it is /eh de ste. Then there will be no need 
 of tlie malefactor's body, good gaffer. Your testimony, as a substan- 
 tial man, is sufficient ; and the jury must pronounce the verdict 
 without advice. The Jezebel ! she deserves to be buried in a cross- 
 road, I trow. Howbeit, if a Crowner might si)eak his nimd, 'twere 
 better to let women have their own way in this matter ; for, believe 
 me, mine host, there be too many in the vrorld that eschew quiet." 
 
 Dame Williams had hitherto been a respectful listener to this 
 dialogue ; but the Crowner's last assertion, which she treated as a 
 person;ditv rather than a sally at the sex, roused lu r latent volubility 
 to action ; ;md, having first retrieved the Crowner from his error, 
 and demonstrated that the deceased woman was not afelo de se, she 
 1. lunched into a spirited philippic against mankind, whom she stigma- 
 tized as inconstant, treacherous, and intractable. 
 
 The Crowner felt that the hitherto unimpeached dignity of his 
 office dejjcnded on the turn which the discussion might take, and, in 
 rt'plving to the vituperation of the dame, he cast a look for succour 
 towards Williams ; but the latter was too prudent, and, nu)rcover, too 
 nmch accuston\ed to his spouse's habits, to interfere. Tlie conse- 
 iiuenccs might have been serious, for the Crowner did not admit 
 that deference to feminine judgment which was uniformly imposed on 
 Williams, and the lady, as the argument proceeded, waxed warmer 
 and more intemperate in her language ; but, before these circum- 
 stances led to any physical nipture, an auxiliary arrived to the 
 (!n»wner*s aid. The dame had just hurled an impolite invective at 
 the Crowner, and he was about to reply in the same strain, when his 
 clerk and coadjutor returned from his mission. The presence of this 
 .subordinate was an incitement which he was unable to resist, and con- 
 gequently, sunnnoniiig his resolution to the point of valour, he returned 
 to the attack. 
 
 " Why, gannner," he cried, "your own words approve my argu- 
 ment. Goto! you are an arrant scold."
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 37 
 
 " Go to ! you are an arrant scold," echoed the clerk. 
 
 " And you — you're a Crowner," vociferated the dauie, being, at 
 the moment, at a loss for a grosser epithet. 
 
 " Ay, am I," retured the official ; " and that I '11 soon .^how you, 
 my mistress. Take note of yon flagons. Sir Clerk, and mark if they 
 hold the two quarts current. Bodikins ! I 'm a Crowner, am I ?" 
 
 " A Crowner, am I ,''" echoed the clerk, seizing three or four of 
 the suspicious flagons. 
 
 But Dame Wilhams had no intention of carrjdng matters to such 
 an extremity ; and, while the clerk was measuring the profundity of 
 the flagons with a rule, she subdued her resentment so far as to 
 remark, with as good-humoured an air as she could assume, that the 
 Crowner had mistaken her sportiveness for passion, and that she was 
 willing to make any apology which he might demand. The CroA\Tier's 
 anger, however, was not appeased, nor his hostility to the illegitimate 
 flagons abated, till the hostess filled one of them with October ale, 
 which, v/hen he had been induced to taste it, completely suftbcated 
 his indignation. The clerk, too, was as easily persuaded as his supe- 
 rior, and, after lie had regaled himself with a draught from the full 
 vessel, tacitly sufl^ered the dame to remove the empty ones. While 
 this arrangement was in progress, he informed the Crowner, in a low 
 whisper, that he could only muster nine jui'ors, and that these could 
 hardly be prevailed on to come : but the other was no way embar- 
 rassed by this result, which, indeed, he had often experienced in the 
 course of his official career ; and, by resolving to act in a double 
 capacity himself, and swearing in Williams and the clerk, to complete 
 the twelve, he obviated any inconvenience that might otherwise 
 have arisen. 
 
 Some time elapsed before the jurors assembled ; and, when they 
 had all been sworn, the half of them were despatched to convey the 
 corpse into the inquest room. The body had been folded in a shroud 
 of coarse cloth, and deposited in a shell, which, though rude in its 
 construction, was incomparably superior to the boxes in which our 
 modei-n poor are consigned to their graves. 
 
 The presence of the corpse awakened all the better feelings of the 
 Crowner ; for, as there were few suicides in those days, and the 
 subjects of inquests were usually the most abject of the poor, he was 
 not often called upon to witness so distressing a spectacle. Such 
 terrible beauty, such lovely pallor, such deadly woe, was a picture 
 which few of the spectators were prepared to meet ; and the Crowner, 
 who was, indeed, a good-natured man, made an inward resolution to 
 acquit the deceased of felony, although, as had often occurred where 
 the party was really innocent, it should be proved to his satisfaction 
 that felonv had been committed. 
 
 " Sirs of the jury," he said, when, after they had viewed the body, 
 they seated themselves mournfully round the table, "and in especial 
 thou. Sir Headljorough," — here the Crowner turned to the parish 
 constable, who was one of the jury, and dropped him a slight nod of 
 recognition, — " who hast, by virtue of thine office, a goodly know-
 
 38 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 ledge of the laws, which, in this matter of quest, are awful strict, there 
 is one " 
 
 The Crowner having paused to cough, his clerk iterated, " There 
 is one " 
 
 " But, Sir Crowner," interrupted the headborough, desirous to 
 display that knowledge of the law for which he had received credit, 
 " where bide the evidences ?" 
 
 " Call the evidences into court, Whittal !" said the Crowner to 
 his clerk. 
 
 " Evidences," cried the clerk, " I charge you, in the King's name, 
 to come into court." 
 
 " I 'm in court," said Williams, from the lower end of the table. 
 
 " Well, get up, then !" interposed his wife, who was anxious to 
 regain her place in the Crowner's good graces, *' and let the court 
 see you." 
 
 " What knowest thou of the deceased?" demanded the Crowner. 
 
 Williams stated the amount of his information, and the Crowner, 
 after a moment's deliberation, resumed. 
 
 " Sirs of the jur\% and in especial thou. Sir Headborough, who 
 hast, bv virtue of thine office, a goodly knowledge of the laws, which, 
 in this matter of (juest, are awful strict, there is one " 
 
 " Fact," prompted the clerk ; and, perceiving that the Crowner's 
 memory was quite at fault, added, in an under tone, " ye may have 
 noted." 
 
 " Ye may have noted," continued the Crowner ; " and that is, the 
 deceased did not come to her death by ch'owning." 
 
 Tlie jury, after a few minutes' consideration, assented. 
 
 " Nor did she," resumed the Crowner, " die bv the hands of 
 lawless men ; nor within any domicile, tenement, or place of abode ; 
 nor " I 
 
 " Nor," echoed the clerk. 
 
 " Nor were old or young, male or female, present at her decease, 
 save only Master Peter Williams, the evidences, who swears, by our 
 Lady, and Sancte George, and the Holy Evangelists, that there were 
 no principals, or accessories, or inciters to the deed : and that the 
 deceased died by misadventure, of her own free will, by the mercy of 
 our blessed Lady of Taunton and good Sancte George, to v^hou) be 
 glorv ! So, sirs of the jury, ye have to say, whether the deceased be 
 worthy of Christen burial, at the cost of the parish, and whether the 
 headborough be charged to see the same performed, having the 
 King's warrant for his authority." 
 
 The jur}% in the newspaper phrase, consulted for a few moments, 
 when they returned their verdict, which the Cro\vner, as foreman, 
 repeated ; and then, notwithstanding that he had previously done so 
 as one of the jury, expressed his conviction of its justice. The 
 verdict, as it was favourable to the deceased, need not be introduced 
 here ; but the Crowner's reconnneudation, which was appended, is 
 more important. He suggested, with the consent of the jury, that 
 the infant fomid with the defunct woman, and then under the pro-
 
 DICK WHITTINQTON. 39 
 
 tection of Williams, should remain with the latter till the parish had 
 provided for his reception, and that, as there was every reason to 
 believe that such was the name of his father, he should be christened 
 " Richard Whittington." 
 
 " And now," said the Crowner to Williams, as, rising from his 
 seat, he seized the innkeeper by the arm, " fill me another flagon of 
 vour October, mine host ; for, by my troth ! this matter has oppressed 
 me sorely." 
 
 Williams prepared to furnish the stipulated article ; but, before he 
 could effect this purpose, he was accosted by a third person, whose 
 recent arrival, owing to the confusion which the rising of the juiy had 
 occasioned, had not yet been observed. 
 
 " So ho, Williams!" cried the stranger, "you have a merry 
 meeting here." 
 
 " Nay, Master Cobbs," replied Williams, pointing, as he spoke, to 
 the corpse, which, as it had been placed in an angle near the door, had 
 escaped the other's notice ; " but a mournful one." 
 
 " Ah, poor thing!" said Cobbs, turning towards the coi-jise — 
 " But, God of Mercy !" he screamed, " it is Gertrude !" 
 
 " Who.''" shouted a dozen voices. 
 
 But the throng shrunk back in silence. Master Cobbs turned 
 round, and as they looked on his blanched cheek and flashing eye, 
 and beheld the majestic dignity of his athletic person, they felt that 
 interference would be both unbecoming and perilous. Even Williams, 
 whom two years of occasional intercourse would have warranted in 
 proceeding, retired as the merchant waved his hand ; but it was a 
 sense of the moral rather than physical superiority of Cobbs, an influ- 
 ence for which their uncultivated minds could not account, that 
 restrained them from satisfying their curiosity. A whisper went 
 round as he bent over the humble bier ; but when he sobbed, when 
 he threw himself on the corpse, and called lier fair, faithful and good, 
 his saviour, and his trusty servant, the auditors felt kindred emotions 
 swelling in their bosoms. Cobbs, however, soon repressed this ebul- 
 lition of sorrow, and, turning hastily round to Williams, beckoned him 
 out of the room. 
 
 " Thou 'It marvel to see me act the woman, good gossip," he 
 said, when, after Williams had followed him a few yards from the 
 house, he turned and confronted him ; " but yon fair corse was my 
 foster-sister, and, in a stormy time, my steadfast friend. Prythee, 
 then, as thou lovest God, tell me how this happed her." 
 
 Williams related, as briefly as he cculd, the circumstance of his 
 finding the woman, and the particulars which he had elicited during 
 her interval of consciousness. The recital made a visible impression 
 on his auditor, who, as it progressed, betrayed considerable emotion ; 
 but, when Williams had finished, he seemed to have recovered his 
 equanimity. 
 
 " I'll be at charges for the child," he said, after a moment's 
 silence, " and thou pbalt rear him, gafi'er. But ->vhat time did 
 this hap ?"
 
 4Q THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " The ni"-ht before our boy was lost," replied Williams, moum- 
 
 fullv. 
 
 '" Our boy ! What boy ? " cned the merchant. 
 
 " Young- Henrv," returned Wilhams. " Some baron, or knight, 
 or somethinff of that sort, lodged with us the other night, and the 
 dame was fooHsh enough to tell him the child's histor\- ; and the next 
 momine, soon after he departed, we missed the child." 
 
 The'merchant was silent for a few moments ; but it was evident, 
 from his external emotion, that his silence was not owing to indiffe- 
 rence. His pale face suddenly became florid, and his eyes were ht 
 with unnatural radiancy. His arched eyebrows compressed into a 
 scowl, his lips parted involuntarily, and his teeth grated with 
 passion. 
 
 " Wouldst do me a service, WiUiams r" he asked, impatiently. 
 
 " Think it done," cried WiUiams. 
 
 " Then take thou this ring," said Cobbs, drawing a ring from one 
 of his fingers, " and speed with it to Sir Herbert de Pye, at Taunton 
 Castle. Sav, the owner sent thee with it, and then relate thy tale." 
 
 WiUiams stared doubtfuUy in the face of the merchant, for, wiU- 
 inelv as he had alwavs submitted to the superiority which the other 
 invMiably assunied, this was an errand which seemed so preposterous, 
 so utterly at variance with the station of Cobbs, that he was unable 
 to reconcile it with reason. A moment's reflection, however, con- 
 vinced him, that, as he had never been competent to penetrate the 
 mvsterv which hung over Cobbs, it would be useless to attempt it now, 
 and therefore, without making any remark, he hastened to discharge 
 his extraordinary mission. 
 
 Two horses were soon made ready ; and WiUiams and Cobbs, 
 ha^-in^ mounted them, gaUoped off in opposite directions. 
 
 The sun was looking as cheerful as he could look on a February 
 morning — and perhaps, in such a season, his faint beams appear more 
 beautiful than the solstice in summer — as Cobbs pursued his fleety 
 career alon^r the road to Arkton Castle. The snow, which stiU covered 
 the ground, was dissolving rapidly beneath the influence of the sun, 
 and tiie way, consequently, was httle adapted to expeditions traveUing ; 
 but neither horse nor rider relaxed their exertions, but continued the 
 furious gaUop with wliich they had started. As he emerged from the 
 extensive vaUey whence Taunton-Deans derived its name, and entered 
 on the open country caUed Sedgemoor, the road became more heavy 
 and impassable ; and while he was endeavouring to impel his horse to 
 increased celerity, the animal lost its footing, and precipitated him to 
 the ground. 
 
 The merchant had been so abstracted throughout his previous 
 progress, that he did not note the wav^farers whom he passed, or those 
 who were approaching from the opposite quarter ; and he was there- 
 fore confounded with surprise, when, as he regained his feet unhurt, 
 he was saluted by a little boy, who, it seemed, was struggUng to free 
 liimself from the custody of his companion, a slender but muscu- 
 lar man.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTO.V. 41 
 
 " It's farder Cobbs I it's farder Cobbs I ' cried the child, 
 springing ^from the arms of his detainer, and bounding towards the 
 merchant. 
 
 " My child I my chdd I " exclaimed Cobbs, as he caught the httle 
 feUow in his arms. 
 
 As the merchant embraced the child he glanced at the sole spec- 
 tator of his tenderness. This person stood motionless with surprise, 
 and looked as if he were rivetted to the ground. He was dressed in 
 a loose suit, made with more deference to decency than fashion, and 
 composed of cloths of a dark and uniform colour. His complexion 
 was rather pale, and contrasted strongly with the deep cerulean colour 
 of his large eyes. His amazement, whatever occasioned it, deprived 
 him for the moment of speech ; and, as the merchant looked at him 
 steadfastly, the feeling became reciprocal. At length, taking oif his 
 black-plumed cap, the stranger threw himself on his left knee, and 
 seized the merchant's hand ; but, before he could pay the homage 
 which he desig-aed, the latter cast himself on his neck, and embraced 
 him as a brother. 
 
 " I thought you dead, Hubert," cried the merchant (for so we 
 will continue to designate the incognito), as he assisted the stranger 
 to rise. 
 
 " I mourned you also, my lord," rephed Hubert. 
 
 " Thou mightst well mourn," said the merchant, sorrowfully, as 
 he took up the child in his arms ; " but now," he continued, in a more 
 cheerful tone, " we may retrace our steps, and thou canst teU thy tale 
 as we go on." 
 
 Hubert took the horse by the rein, and, walking along bv the 
 side of the merchant, began, after a moment's silence, the following 
 narrative. 
 
 " That you know this child for your own, my lord, I am now 
 aware, though I cannot guess how vou learned the circumstance ; for, 
 as you know, when you went with the Black Prince to Fiunce, yotu- 
 ladv had not yet borne him. Your father, as I ad\'ised you bv letter, 
 died soon after your departure ; and then your poor lady, left at the 
 mercy of your brother, began her course of sufleriag. It was not, 
 however, till the rumom* of vour death, confirmed by the royal report, 
 reached the castle, that your brother began to wony- her with his 
 guilty love, which he then pressed upon her unceasingly. He told 
 me — for he knew not that om- disagreement was made up before your 
 depaiture — that it was gross injustice, when he should have succeeded 
 to the inheritance of his father, that your imbom child should step 
 before him ; and he made me swear, that, if he did not succeed in 
 winning yom* lady, I would murder her oitspiing directly it was 
 born " 
 
 "All this I know, good Hubert," interrupted the merchant; 
 " but wish to hear how you escaped death yourself, for dead I sup- 
 posed you were." 
 
 ■' \\Tien I had placed the child with my sister, and she had canied 
 him to the hostelrv" where he was reared, I used frequentlv to ride
 
 42 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 over for the pui-pose of seeing him ; but no one knew of my motive, 
 nor did the people at the hostel suspect it. I could see, indeed, that 
 your lirothcr bcg-an to watch me ; not that he suspected me of having 
 spared the child, but because he feared I would betray his secret. 
 But I thought, bv riding several times to Taunton, and suiFering him 
 to keep me in sight the whole way, he would be satisfied ; and this 
 I did, till one night, as I was fording the River Tone on my return, 
 he met me in the mid-stream, and, springing on me suddenly, left 
 me for dead in the water." 
 
 " Tlie black-hearted fiend !" exclaimed Cobbs. 
 
 " A party of soldiers, who were on their way to the coast, passed 
 the ford a few minutes afterwards, and found me nearly suflocated. 
 I was unable, being insensible, to tell them how it happed ; and when 
 I recovered I told a fictitious story, for I had no wish to shame my 
 master's house. They beheved me, however ; and, as I found they 
 were under orders for France, a thought struck me that I would go 
 with them, and learn if you were really dead. My horse, I have since 
 heard, was seen at the castle-gate covered with gore ; and hence, I 
 suppose, rose the report of my death." 
 
 " But vou went to France ?" said the merchant. 
 
 " I did, my lord, and without seeing my sister, or informing her 
 of mv escape. I heard, on my arrival in France, that you had been 
 slain in battle ; and after serving three years, and learning little else 
 but the art of minstrelsy, I returned home. I stained my face with a 
 dvc I brought from Paris, and, having further disguised mvself with a 
 false beard, I visited the castle as a minstrel, and entered the service 
 of your brother. When I was established there, I began to search for 
 my sister ; but of her I could learn no tidings, except that she had 
 married a soldier, and gone with him to another part of the country. 
 As I was afraid of being discovered on this business, I used to don 
 my old apparel, the same as I now wear ; but, as I went out of the castle 
 bv the secret outlet, which, you will recoUect, was known only to you 
 and myself, no one was hkely to observe me. But one night, as I 
 entered the turret on my return, I was encountered by one of the old 
 servants, who, seeing me appear he knew not how, and recognizing 
 tlie fashion of my habits, took me for a ghost, and raised a general 
 alarm." 
 
 " Your identity was not suspected, then.?" interposed the mer- 
 chant. 
 
 " No, my lord. When your brother desired me to steal the child, 
 
 on hi^ recognizing him at the hostel, I consented, and promised 
 
 but this I nu:st not divulge, for I am sworn to secrecy. I may say, 
 however, that, with the assistance of one of his retainers, whom I 
 trusted because he was a stranger, and because, too, I had heard him 
 say he disliked his service, I rescued the child from peril, and now 
 resign him to you." 
 
 " What is the name of him you trusted, Hubert }" 
 
 " Whittington," replied Hubert ; " Ijut you know him not." 
 
 •■ '^our .'itory is strange, Hulici-t," said the merchant, not heeding
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 43 
 
 the last observation of his companion ; " but it is not so marvellous 
 as mine. When I received your account of my father's death — for 
 my brother never advertised me of it — I sought the King's license to 
 come hon^e ; but Dame Alice Ferrers, his mistress, v^'ho owed me 
 enmity, beguiled him to refuse it. Knowing my brother for a fiend 
 incarnate, and dreading his usage of my sweet wife, I resolved, in a 
 luckless hour, to come home pri^oly ; and, with this intent, deserted 
 the field for the port of Lyons. Tlience I escaped in disguise on ship- 
 board, but was captured bv a corsair, and sold a slave at Algiers. 
 I performed a service for the Pa}'nim King, who was my master, and 
 on hearing such part of my tale as I thought fit to unfold, and having 
 parole from me to send him mv ransom if I reached England, he gave 
 me mv hberty. When I arrived here, I sought your sister " 
 
 " Oh, my lord ! " said Hubert, abruptly interrupting the merchant, 
 " dost know aught of her r" 
 
 " Alas, Hubert ! " replied the merchant, " she is dead." 
 
 " Dead !" echoed Hubert, transfixed with grief and surprise. 
 
 " Alas !" sighed the merchant, w'ho was equally affected with his 
 companion ; but, mastering liis emotion, he resumed — " I will tell thee 
 of her fate, Hubert, when thou art better prepared to hear it ; and now 
 I will speak of mj^ own mishaps. From her I learned the tidings thou 
 hast told me to-dsy, save that she thought thee dead. In the disguise 
 which I now wear, I saw mv motherless boy ; and, for his sake, I 
 resolved to live. I went then to Herbert de Pye, the old chevalier of 
 Taunton — for you wall recollect, Hubert, that he had ever a father's 
 love for me — and, by his advice, passed off for the merchant that I 
 seemed, because, till the King shall be appeased, my hfe is forfeit. 
 He sent me to one Fitzwarren, a merchant of London, who lent me 
 monev to redeem my parole with the Moor ; and, as Herbert de Pye 
 swore to look to mv child, though he thought him safer at the hostel 
 than his castle, and as my stay in England was fidl of peril, I took 
 the money to the Moor myself. Our bark was called the Unicorn ; 
 and, as we had a fair passage, I had an opportunity of acquiring the 
 mariner's craft. Our captain died at Algiers, and I brought home the 
 bark, which I still command." 
 
 " Alas, my lord!" observ^ed Hubert, mournfully, " how can you 
 thus demean yourself?" 
 
 " 'Tis stem necessity, Hubert, and the will of the Supreme." 
 
 " And yet, I ween, your arm can still wield a lance." 
 
 " Ah ! you guess at the Unknown Knight of the tournament, 
 
 then .? Yes, Hubert ! When my false brother there but it 
 
 matters not ; though, woidd to God that the tie of blood, which he 
 has disdained, could have been undone that hour ! I thought to 
 have despised it now ; but Heaven has interposed, and my child 
 is saved." 
 
 " You w^oidd not have been so rash, my lord ? 
 
 " Not singly, Hubert," replied the merchant. " I have sent a 
 message to Baron Herbert, and it w^ould quickly bring him before 
 Arkton Castle. But now- we will intercept him, and I will place my 
 bov in hi.? charge, and thou too, if it >o nlease thee."
 
 44 THE LIKE AND TIMES OF 
 
 •' That it will, right well, my lord," rejoined Hubert ; ''and yonder, 
 if I mistake not, comes the Baron, and a force with him." 
 
 Hubert was not mistaken. A party of horsemen, arranged iu 
 military order, were descried galloping at full speed toward,s the spot 
 where they stood ; and, though their standard was at too great a 
 distance to be accurately marked by the eye, the merchant had no 
 doubt that thev were the forces of the Baron of Taunton. He placed 
 the child, who had fallen asleep, in the arms of Hubert, and, mounting 
 his horse, moved gently onwards. Tlie approaching allies, however, 
 soon came up with him ; and, halting in the middle of the road, he 
 lifted his hat, and adckesscd the foremost of the party. This person 
 was, as his dress manifested, the leader of the others ; and the bear 
 ram])ant which was graven on his shield, as w ell as the motto, ** jiec 
 ttmro, ncc SJierno," denoted the Baron of Taunton. 
 
 Me was scarcely above the middle height, but the erect posture 
 which, notwithstanding that he was advanced in years, he uniformly 
 maintained, gave him the appearance of greater procerity. His 
 features were rather harshly turned, but the gravity of his brow, and 
 the stern majesty of his eye, were softened by the venerable expression 
 with which the combination of his features seemed to be impressed. 
 He wore buskins, or half-boots, turned up with buff, and ornamented 
 at the instep NN-ith a gold tassel. His hose were of a dark brown colour, 
 and fitted tight till they reached the knee, where his white hanselines, 
 or trousers, though they were not made so close as his hose, were 
 fitted with nearly equal nicety to his thighs. His surcoat was of a 
 fine cream-coloured cloth, embroidered, from the shoulders to a point 
 in the centre of the waist, with gold lace, and was cut to fall closely 
 over the hips, which marked the proportion of his form. It was cut 
 off in lappets at the shoulder, whence the sleeves of his jerkin, or 
 under-jacket, displayed the same colour as his hose. A gold chain, 
 which also served him for a girdle, was thrown round his neck, 
 and, after clasping behind, was twisted round his waist, where it held 
 a long and straight sword, whose hilt was adoi-ned with precious stones. 
 His hat was bell-shaped, and had little or no brim; but a plume of 
 white feathers, which were fixed in fi-ont, and fastened to the hat by a 
 large rubv, gave it the martial appearance which its deficiency of peak 
 would otherwise have destroyed. 
 
 His retinue consisted of about twenty archers, and between twenty 
 and thirty men-at-arms, all well mounted and equipped. The archers 
 were clad in a tight dress of green ; and, besides their long bows, were 
 armed with cut-and-thrust swords, which were then in general use. 
 The men-at-arms wore caps of iron, and short steel hauberks, which 
 latter, fragile as they seemed, would offer a steady check to an antag- 
 onist's lance. They carried lances wliich, ha\ing an axe attached 
 below the barb, answered the purpose both of lance and halberd ; and^ 
 besides thcsp weapons, which were of a prodigious length, they wore 
 the cut-and-thrust sword. 
 
 Sir Herbert acknowledged the respectful salute of the merchant 
 with a slight and haughty nod, which was evidently intended to blind 
 the s|)ectators ; for when he advanced dose to his ear, and was
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 45 
 
 beyond the hearing of his followers, his language descended to that 
 of an equal. 
 
 " I have obeyed thy call, Sinclair," he said ; " and I thought to 
 have defied the traitor in the midst of his vassals." 
 
 " 1 thank thee, my lord," replied the merchant ; " but yon trust) 
 servant, whom I must now turn over to thee, has saved the child bv 
 stratagem ; and so we will bide a more fitting season. But, good mv 
 lord, take thou my boy imder thy wing, and rear him as thou wouldst 
 thine own." 
 
 " Tliat will I, my Sinclair," rejoined the Baron ; " and he will be 
 a bold man that assails him henceforward, I warrant thee." 
 
 " Then I will get me gone," said the merchant, as he repeated 
 the bow which he had enacted on the first appearance of Sir Herbert. 
 
 As the merchant turned his horse's head to retire. Sir Herbert 
 directed one of his vassals, who had charge of a led horse in the rear, 
 to resign the animal to Hubert, who, clasping the sleeping child to his 
 breast, sprung into the saddle, and took up a place in Sir Herbert's 
 train. Tlie latter nodded once more to the merchant, who had not yet 
 moved away, and, urging his steed into a gentle trot, gave the signal 
 for his companv to return homewai'ds.
 
 4fi IHK I.IKK AM) TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER VI. THE MEETING. 
 
 WHICH CLOSES THE FIRST PERIOD OF THIS HISTORY. 
 
 The merchant remained stationary for some minutes after the depar- 
 ture of the bai'onial cavalcade, the progress of which he watched 
 with intense interest. When it had gone so far that he could no 
 longer distinguish its several members, he turned the head of his 
 horse towards the opposite quarter, and proceeded forwards at as smart 
 a pace as the road would permit. In about two hours he drew up 
 before the gate of Arkton Castle ; and, having first drawn the collar 
 of his coat over his face, and pulled his hat down on his eyebrows, 
 he dismounted, and hailed the warder. 
 
 " Mav one Whittington, a soldier of yours, be spoken with 
 to-day ?" he asked. 
 
 " Ay," replied the warder; " have you aught with him .''" 
 " I have, good warder," returned the merchant ; " and I would 
 give a f.iir guerdon to be helped to his presence." 
 
 " That shall you be straight," cried the warder; and, throwing 
 open the postern, he admitted the merchant into the ballium. 
 
 " Leave vour horse to mv charge, fair sir," he continued, 
 taking the rein fi-om the hand of Cobbs, " and bend your steps toward 
 yonder postern. That will admit you to the castle- ward, where, I 
 ween, you will find him vou seek." 
 
 " I thank you. Sir Warder," returned the merchant; and walked 
 forwards to the specified locality. 
 
 But Whittington was not in the ward ; and the merchant was 
 directed to the southern bastion, to which he ascended by a moveable 
 stair. He paused when near the summit, for, in the rude measure 
 which the sentinel was warbling overhead, he thought that, though 
 the ideas were not strange to the age, he detected the expression 
 of the singer's feelings. He stood, then, and listened to the follow- 
 ing strain : 
 
 Woman's vow and woman's word 
 
 Were never loval to her lord ; 
 
 Like the blush of damsels shy. 
 
 They show the wish they'd fain deny ; 
 
 Never to the heart disclosed, 
 
 Tlie vow is throned and then deposed ; 
 
 And like the snow when the sun is nigh. 
 
 It melts beneath tlie first bright eye.
 
 DICK WHITTIKGTON. 47 
 
 Woman's heart and woman's face 
 Are opposite as sin and grace ; 
 Woman's tongue and woman's e)'e 
 Do each the other's words belie ; 
 Woman's soul and woman's ear 
 Were never proof to flatterer ; 
 Nor did ever woman's lip ^ 
 Refuse of profiered vice to sip. 
 
 The sentinel ceased ; and the merchant, renewing his ascension, 
 strode on to the bastion. The soldier who had given utterance to the 
 song, and whom he now confronted, was neither tall nor diminutive 
 in stature ; but his brawny and well-knit limbs, which the closeness 
 of his dress exhibited to the most cursory observer, denoted con- 
 siderable physical power. His brow wore an expression of donbt 
 and anxiety ; but neither this appearance nor the length of his black 
 beard, which evinced a degree of negligence altogether unaccountable, 
 detracted from the frankness of his handsome countenance. He was 
 clad, like all the cavaliers or partisans of the period, in a closely- 
 fitted suit of buff; and wore, in addition to the hauberk and heavy 
 steel gauntlets, the giambeux, or armour for the thighs. His right 
 hand grasped a pole-axe, the helve of which was nearly ten feet 
 long, and which, as it required both hands to wield it, was a sufficient 
 proof of his great strength. Having heard the merchant's step 
 ascending, he turned round from the parapet, over which he had 
 been listlessly leaning ; but he had not time to utter the challenge, 
 which, such was the discipline maintained in baronial castles, all 
 persons approaching were to answer with the pass-word, before the 
 merchant became visible. 
 
 " Ah !— Traitor !" cried the soldier, as he recognised the person 
 of his visitor, " what evil errand brought )'ou hither .''" 
 
 "A more evil errand than you think for," replied the merchant 
 haughtily ; " and were it not that you have done me good service 
 lately, though you knew it not, you should have the weight of my 
 arm rather than my tidings." 
 
 " Peace, roystering braggart !" returned Whittington ; " you are 
 too contemptible to be worthy of a brave man's vengeance, and too 
 pitiful to awaken his ire. TeU your business ; and then, as you value 
 fife, begone." 
 
 " 'Tis well, my master," rejoined the merchant ; " but I can brook 
 ill- words from a wrathful man. Moreover, I am obliged, though 
 contrary to my will, to wound you with my tongue. — Your wife is 
 dead." 
 
 "Dead!" echoed Whittington, dropping the pole-axe from his 
 grasp : " dead ! said you } Then may God and our Lady of Taunton 
 assoil her !" 
 
 " Amen !" ejaculated the merchant. 
 
 " Away, exulting villain !" shouted Whittington, seizing his pole- 
 axe, and darting towards the merchant; "away! or I will be pro- 
 voked to spill your blood."
 
 48 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 The merchant, however, did not flinch ; but, fokHng his arms over 
 lii? brertst. aiul drawing up his fitrure to its full height, awaited the 
 assault. 
 
 " Strike !" he cried, as his antagonist rushed forwards. 
 But Whittington suddenly paused. It is not the nature of the 
 brave to attack the defenceless ; and the merchant had not mistaken 
 the disposition of Whitting-ton, or miscalculated the effect of his own 
 fortitude, when he threw liimself into this unresisting though inflex-- 
 ible posture. His antagonist dropped his uplifted weapon, and seized 
 oil him at first in doubt, and then with admiration. 
 
 " Hounds," he cried at last, " have courage ; but courage is not 
 a virtue." 
 
 " And what have I done, my master," replied the merchant, "to 
 merit your dipleasure .-'" 
 
 " What have you done ! Zounds ! my own eyes beheld you fond- 
 ling. She was kneelhig at your feet, weeping and — and" 
 
 " Kissing my hand," added the merchant, stoutly. 
 
 " Ah ! — Say you ? You confess it to my face ?" vociferated the 
 enraged soldier. " And what else, prythee ?" 
 
 " Paving me homage as her feudal lord," replied the other. 
 
 There was something in the tone in which the speaker delivered 
 these words, which were of themselves extraordinary enough, that 
 struck the soldier with involuntary awe. It immediately occurred to 
 him, too, that from his first introduction to his deceased wife, she had 
 uniformly conducted herself tow^ards the merchant with the most 
 respectful humility, and many of her actions, which he had been wont 
 to impute to other motives, he now attributed to the observance of 
 the feudal discipline. The effect of the merchant's revelation was 
 consequently instantaneous ; and the soldier, mentally acquitting his 
 wife of infidelity, suffered him to renew his explanation. 
 
 " And yet, though I am her foster-brother, I freely forgive you, for 
 the man whom you assisted this morning was her near relation, and 
 the child you saved was noble. For this service, though you parted 
 from hei- in anger — nay, suspecting her faith — you shall have my 
 esteem. But hear her fate ; and then seek, by rigid penance, to atone 
 for your injustice ! She followed you to the Taunton tournament, in 
 the hope of pacifying you by revealing his name ; and, on her way 
 thither, was seized with the pains of child-birth. She gave birth to 
 a boy, whom I will see cared for, and died with your name upon her 
 lips. Who, since you jirized not the love of such a wife, can teach you 
 the duties of a parent? None; and therefore, Sir Whittington, you 
 shall never see your child." 
 
 Never see my child I" cried Whittington, " and who art thou that 
 would prevent me ?" 
 
 " I," re])lied the other, " I am Henry Sinclair, Knight, Baron of 
 Arkton. and Lord of Seymour." 
 
 " Ah ! muttered a third voice. 
 
 " Vvho spoke ?" cried the merchant and Wliittington together. 
 
 The merchant ruslied to the parapet, and cast a hasty look
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 49 
 
 around; but no one, not even a shadow, was visible. He then ran to 
 the stair by which he had ascended to the bastion, and surveyed the 
 entire baUium at a glance ; but here he was equally unsuccessful. 
 Had he been a moment sooner, however, he would have detected the 
 figure of his brother, who, when he heard the disclosure which had 
 elicited his exclamation, stole softly down the stair, and concealed 
 himself behind an adjacent buttress. 
 
 " 'Twas a vain fancv then," said the merchant ; " and yet I could 
 have sworn that I heard a voice." 
 
 " Ay, my lord," rejoined \\^iittington, whose demeanour had 
 undergone a change since the disclosure of his visiter's rank ; " but 
 haply the moaning of the wind deceived us." 
 
 " It must have been so," said the merchant, after a considerable 
 pause. " But farewell, Whittington ! When my son succeeds to the 
 heritage of his fathers, your son shall be presented to you. Fiut 
 ho ! " he continued, as the tramp of armed men ascending to the 
 bastion became audible, " treachery ! Give me your axe. Sir Whit- 
 tington !" 
 
 " Nay," cried Whittington, springing on him suddenly, "you are 
 my prisoner." 
 
 The shock was so unexpected that the merchant lost his footing, 
 and fell beneath the resistless weight of his antagonist. 
 
 Sir Alfred Sinclair, at the head of a dozen partisans, attained tlio 
 bastion at this moment, and hastened to the assistance of Whittington, 
 who, with his pole-axe raised in the air, and his foot on the chest of 
 the prostrate merchant, stood in a situation which the Baron had not 
 anticipated. 
 
 " Thanks, brave Whittington!" cried the Baron, when he per- 
 ceived that person's hostility to his brother; "you shall be well 
 rewarded for this." 
 
 " Traitor!" scowled the merchant. 
 
 " An' you speak another word," said Whittington, " I will cleave 
 your skull in twain." 
 
 "Keep this promise, Whittington!" cried the Baron vehe- 
 mently. " And you, villains," he shouted to his vassals, " bear the 
 prisoner to safe ward ! " 
 
 Accordingly, the prisoner was immediately seized by the soldiers, 
 and transported to the ward-room. Thence, by the direction of 
 Whittington, (for the Baron had remained on the bastion,) he was 
 borne down a passage from which branched numerous cells, in one 
 of which, after his limbs had been bound with cords, he was left 
 alone. 
 
 The cell was about eight feet square, and lighted by a small 
 window, which, as he lay in an angle on the same side, the merchant 
 was unable to examine. This purpose, indeed, did not strike him at 
 the moment ; for as he was now entirelv in the hands of his brother, 
 who, he knew, would shrink from the perpetration of no outrage, 
 however inhunian, his mind was for some hours distracted. Even 
 the treacheiy of Whittington, from whom he had expected assistance 
 
 K
 
 50 THE LIKE AND TIMES OF 
 
 rather than enmity, was at first forgotten ; and when it did occur to 
 hini. he was utterly unable to account for it. It would be superfluous 
 to transcribe the whole of his ruminations, which — for the matter was 
 of too dangerous a character to suffer interruption — employed him 
 till the night was far spent; but as he had received no supply of 
 food during the day. and as he thought this circumstance augured a 
 nocturnal nsit from his brother, he began at length to consider the 
 practicability of an escape. 
 
 Though tiglitly bound with cords, he was able to introduce one 
 of his hands into the pocket of his doublet, which, fortunately, had 
 not been searched by his captors, and extract thence a large clasp- 
 knife, which sensed him to sever his bonds. Being so far fiee from 
 personal restraint, he groped round the room in quest of a weapon ; 
 but in this, as he expected, he was unsuccessful. His attention was 
 next directed to the window ; but as it was situatedat the outer face of 
 the wall, which gradually expanded from the orifice till it formed a wide 
 mouth in the side of the cell, and as, moreover, the night was 
 extremely dark, he was unable to discover its character. He was 
 consequently enforced to clamber up the wall, and then to creep along 
 the embrasure in which the window was s.et, where he examined it 
 v.-ith his hands. It was sufficiently wide to form an outlet for his 
 person ; but it was secured with iron bars, which, though thev 
 promised to yield to a moderate degree of pressure, withstood the 
 little force which his exhausted frame could oppose to them. He 
 persevered, however; and his exertions would probablv have been 
 crowned with success ; but, at the moment that he expected to force 
 one of the bars, the door of tis cell was throwTi open. 
 
 The person who now intruded into his presence was one whom 
 the merchant least expected ; and, as he carried a lighted lamp in his 
 hand, his features were distinctly visible : it was Whittington. 
 
 "So ho, my lord!" he said, in a low voice,. " vou are 
 already on the wing. You cannot think my ill usage this 
 morning was earnest. By my soul! I feigned it to bhnd your 
 brother ; and, thanks to our Lady ! I blinded him effectually. ' He 
 appointed me to meet him on the bastion at midnight ; but if vou 
 will trust to my guidance, which you can now have no reason to 
 doubt, we will be beyond his reach by that time." 
 
 " God reward you as you deal by me!" rephed the merchant; 
 and, creeping to the side of the embrassure, he sprung to the floor. 
 
 Whittington led the way into a vaulted pas.sage, where he extin- 
 guished his lamp; and, bidding his companion follow, hastened 
 onwards. They passed through a low postern into the balhum. 
 whence, ghding along by the side of the wall, they repaired to the 
 bastion. 
 
 A heavy and hasty step, which was fast approaching, impelled 
 them to mcreased activity. Whittington put a rope into the hands 
 of the merchant, and grasped another himself. These had previouslv 
 been fastened to strong hooks, which had been driven firmly in the 
 parapet; and though Whittington said that he had not tested their
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 51 
 
 length, they seemed adequate to the projected descension. The con- 
 federates threw them over the wall, and immediately began their 
 descent ; but the merchant's rope did not reach to the moat, and he 
 was obliged to drop when a dozen feet above the water, with which 
 element, as has been before obsers^ed, the moat was filled. The noise 
 of his fall, however, did not attract unfriendiv observation ; and, after 
 swimming across the moat, he landed on the open castellany. Here 
 he encountered ^Miittington, who offered to guide him to a place of 
 entertainment ; and here, for the present, this history will leave 
 them both.
 
 5-2 THK LIFli AND TIMES OF 
 
 THE SECOND PERIOD. YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 SHOWING THE MANNER AND CIRCUMSTANCE OP DICk's DEPARTURE 
 FOR LONDON. 
 
 Upwards of thirteen years after the date of the first period of this 
 history, or, to speak with greater accuracy, towards the close of 
 April, 1377, the hostelry of the St. George and the Dragon, which 
 had for so many years afforded refreshment to the wayfarer, pre- 
 sented a forlorn and ruinous aspect. The event which produced 
 this change in its economy, and the reason that it remained untenable 
 and untenanted, constitute but a brief and uninteresting relation. 
 
 One dark midnight, about three weeks previous, the inhabitants 
 of the adjacent hamlet were wakened from their slumbers by loud 
 cries of distress, and, as such a circumstance was at least unusual, the 
 most resolute among them rose to enquire its meaning. They soon found 
 that the cries emanated from the hostelry, which, in the lower story, 
 was involved in flames. A goodly concourse, consisting entirely 
 of neighbours, immediately collected in front of the edifice, and 
 though, owing to the prevalence of a high wind, they did not 
 succeed in their effoits to av-est the flames, they rescued two of 
 the occupants from imminent peril. One of these persons was 
 Dame Williams, the wife of the proprietor ; and the other was a 
 lad, apparently in his fourteenth year, who bore the name of Dick 
 Whittington. The proprietor himself was nowhere to be found, 
 and as, on the extinction of the flames, the ruins were carefully 
 searched, and no traces of him discovered, it was generally believed 
 that he had perished. There were a few, indeed, who were sceptical 
 on this point, for as he had been tipsy the night before, and the 
 fire was said to have arisen through his carelessness, they thought 
 that, rather than encounter the wrath of his spouse, he had fled the 
 country. 
 
 Aware that she was unpopular where her disposition was known, 
 and being forsaken by the few local friends who had adhered to her 
 in prosperity. Dame Williams did not remain in Taunton-Deans 
 beyond the third day after the fire. She availed herself of a chance 
 afforded by a waggon, which passed through the hamlet on that day, 
 to depart for the metropolis, where, it was reported, she was on 
 friendly terms with a merchant, named Cobbs, who had once visited 
 Taunton-Dcans uccasionallv, but had not been seen there for nearly
 
 DICK WMITTINGTON. 53 
 
 three years. The lad, Dick Whittmgton, continued in the hamlet ; 
 but though he accepted gratuities of food from the neighbours, 
 by some of whom he was employed to execute errands and chop 
 wood, he did not seek the shelter of any of their cottages. He took 
 up his abode in the ruins of the hostelry, where, it was supjiosed. 
 he would remain, till the approaching season of hay-making invited 
 him to the field. On the moi-ning of the 28th of April, however, he 
 appeared abroad at an earlier hour than usual ; but though he was 
 observed, by such of the villagers as were then about, to station 
 himself in front of the hostelry, his purpose in rising was not 
 suspected. 
 
 He was leaning against the side of the dilapidated house, and, 
 apparently, was lost in thought. His oval-shaped face, marked with 
 the prepossessing lines of ingenuousness and candour, wore an 
 expression of gravity and reflection, profound beyond his years. His 
 hair was of a dark brown colour, and cropped close, which circum- 
 stance was favourable to the revelation of his expansive forehead, 
 whose surface was already impressed with those organs which 
 phrenologists prize. His eyebrows were shght, but arcuate ; and 
 his dai'k eyes, in their pensive mood, indicated that decision 
 of character which it is so desirable to possess. He was clad in a 
 suit of russet, which, made to fit him tightlv, displayed the contour 
 of his slight and rather tall person. His hood was black, and 
 adorned with a leaden figure of the virgin ; and on his breast, 
 fastened to a cord which dangled from his neck, he wore a piece 
 of soiled paper, which Romans, it is said, call an Agnus Dei. 
 
 His meditation, whatever was its subject, was soon at an end ; 
 and, sitting down on the step of the door, he sung, to a pleasing air, 
 this irregular verse : 
 
 Oh, sweet and dear. 
 
 And aye sincere. 
 
 Is love that gUstens in a tear ; 
 
 And such is mother's love, I ween. 
 
 And such the love of village green — 
 
 Round England's kingdom you may roam. 
 
 And find no love like that of home. 
 
 But, oh, say where, when orphans seek. 
 
 On village green or inountain bleak. 
 
 Round England's kingdom, France, or Spain, 
 
 Or on the blue and trackless main. 
 
 Or any place beneath the sky. 
 
 Oh, where shall love delight the eye } 
 
 Yet oi-phan's breast 
 
 Can manifest 
 
 As much of feeling as the best ; 
 
 And well he wots the soothful lay. 
 
 Though native scenes he quit for aye — 
 
 Round England's kingdom he may roam. 
 
 And find no love hke that of home.
 
 o4 THE LIFE AND TIMES OI<" 
 
 " Well done, my youiig master!" said a short, close-set man, 
 who, uuperceived by Dick, had approached while he was singing ; 
 " Well done, my young master! mayhap you can sing another 
 stave?" 
 
 " Ay, your worship ; if it so please you," replied i3ick. 
 " You are a proper lad, I wis," rejoined the stranger ; " but I 
 wished only to approve your manners. And now, haply, you can 
 tell me how this hostel, which has braved fortune for so many years, 
 has fallen under calamity at last." i 
 
 " I can, fair sir," said Dick ; and. in a mournful tone, he related 
 the particulars as they have be^ii stated. " 
 
 " And what," ask04 the stranger, " has become of the 
 occupants }" -— 
 
 " Master W^HJams," observed Dick, his face becoming florid with 
 ^rief Vrh";;,^ he was ashamed to effuse, " Master Williams can't be 
 lound ; and the Dame has gone to London, to seek one Master 
 Cobbs, a captain on ship-board. The people were not good to her 
 hereabouts ; and, as she has been ruined by the fire, she intends to 
 seek service." 
 
 " But there was a boy," rejoined the other, " one Richard Whit- 
 tington. What has become of him ?" 
 
 " He is here. Sir Stranger," said Dick; " I am DickWhittington." 
 " Indeed ! " returned the stranger, " Well, what do you intend to 
 do, Dick?" 
 
 " I am going to London this morning," replied Dick, " to seek 
 my fortune. They say that you can pick up gold in the streets 
 there." 
 
 " A metaphor, a pai-able, good Dick," cried the stranger, checking 
 an inclination to laugh. " But how will you travel all the way to 
 London ?" 
 
 " I have hoarded ample provision, fair sir," said Dick, drawing a 
 coarse gabardine, in which some bread and meat were tied up, from 
 behind the wall ! " and I hope to have a lift in the waggon, which, 
 as vou may know, will pass here directly." 
 
 " I am going in the waggon, too," obsei*ved the other, after a 
 pause. " Be a good boy, Dick, and you shall be my camerade. You 
 can call me Master Simon. Simon Racket is my name, though 
 some few, my particulars, call me Rackety Simon." 
 
 The speaker delivered this speech with such emphasis, and, as he 
 ceased speaking, assumed so patronising an aspect, that Dick ventured 
 to scrutinize him more strictly than he had previously done. He 
 seemed to be bordering on his thirtieth year, and, as has been stated, 
 was short in stature ; but his person was robust, and his limbs well 
 ordered. His countenance was plain, but round and open. He wore 
 party-coloured hose, crackowes shoes, which latter were fastened to 
 the knee by showy gilt chains, and a frock of Flemish cloth, secured 
 by a girdle of figured silk. His hood was half blue and half green, 
 and, over his left ear, was set ofl" with an artificial rose. His appear- 
 ance did not bc>pcak the ruricohst, and Dick, who at once detected 
 this, set him down for a burgess of London.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 55 
 
 " Here, I think, comes the waggon," cried Dick, bounding into 
 the centre of the road. " There 's music in those bells," he added 
 half-aloud, as the ponderous carriage, drawn by eight stout horses, 
 each of which bore t\To small bells over his head, slowly approached 
 them. 
 
 Master Simon would probably have spoken to the driver of the 
 waggon to procure Dick a free passage, or, in the event of this being 
 refused, woidd have paid his fare ; but, as the veliicle passed the 
 defunct hostelry, Dick himself accosted the waggoner. Perhaps the 
 latter had been in the habit of halting at Taunton-Deans, for he 
 immediately recognised Dick ; and, in answer to his solicitation of a 
 passage to London, bade him jump up. Master Simon soon agreed 
 about his own fare ; and, having assisted Dick into the carriage, 
 he dexterously introduced himself. The waggon, in order to facili- 
 tate their ascent, had been brought to a halt ; but, before Dick 
 and his companion could seat themselves securelv, it renewed its 
 progress.
 
 56 THE MFK AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER II. THE JOURNEY. 
 
 TRACES THE HERo's PROGRESS TOWARDS LONDON OLD MAY-DAY 
 
 THE MAYINGS THE MAID MARIAN ROBIN HOOD FRIAR TUCK 
 
 COMBAT BETWEEN MASTER SIMON RACKET AND ROBIN HOOD 
 
 DICK DISPLAYS DECISION OF CHARACTER ELEANOR PRICE AND 
 
 DAME ALICE PERRERS HIGHGATE BILL SMITH SIR AMBROSE 
 
 POLLARD, THE PRIEST OF HIGHGATE BATTLE BETWEEN THE 
 
 ROMANISTS AND LOLLARDS, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES TO DICK. 
 
 A JOURNEY across England, towards the close of the fourteenth 
 centurv, was an undertaking which occupied a considerable time ; 
 for though, at the commencement of his reign, a system of posts had 
 been estabhshed l)y Edward the Third, it is doubtful whether, in after 
 vears, he continued to maintain them. It is certain, that for a suc- 
 ceeding centurv, the road? were in a wretched condition ; and, not- 
 withstanding that it is recorded, that nearly forty years previous, an 
 express had passed between Edinburgh and London in six days, there 
 is every reason to believe that even when the beasts of burden were 
 of a superior class, expeditious travelling was almost unknowai. The 
 waggon in which Master Simon Racket and his camarade travelled, 
 (md which was then the ordinary machine of conveyance for the 
 I'esijectablc sort of passengers, was so slow in its advances, that, 
 though the weather was exceedingly fine, two days had expired 
 before they reached the village of Torrington, where, in consequence 
 of an accident which befell the axle, it was halted for the night. 
 
 As their arrival was unexpected, and the festival of the morrow 
 had brought in a flood of guests, the occupants of the waggon were 
 unable to procure lodgings at the village hostel ; and Master Simon, 
 therefore, was fain to make the most of a litter of straw, on which, 
 having covered himself over with his cloak, he stretched himself in 
 the waggon. Dick Wliittiugton, having first said his orisons to the 
 leaden image which he wore in his hood, disposed himself to rest in a 
 similar manner. Probably, however, if his ability had been equal to 
 his will, he would have been better satisfied to have continued awake ; 
 for, in that age, the eve of the 1st of May was a night of general 
 festivity. But as, in consequence of his preferring ambulation to 
 the irksome jolting of the waggon, he had been on his feet the entire 
 day, he was weary enough to be indifferent to active pleasure. He 
 hoped, too, as the vehicle would have to undergo repair in the 
 morning, that he would then have an opportunity of witnessing the 
 ceremonies which usiiered in May, and in whicli, for several years 
 anterior, he had been wont to enact a prominent part. In this mood 
 lie fell asleep, and slept soundly till, at the dawn of the following day, 
 he was awakened by a loud noise, which was occasioned by the 
 aitisans repairing the waggon. 
 
 Dick, on getting up, found that Master Simon was already awake ; 
 and, a.s they had both agreed to do on the previous evening, they
 
 '"*' 3:^'ton^.s f^' 

 
 DKK WHITTINGTON. 57 
 
 started together for the village green. Long before they reached 
 this place, which was situated at the other end of the village, they 
 heard the psean of May carolled by a hundred voices ; and, on entering 
 the area, they immediately joined in the chorus. 
 
 In the centre of the green, at about a stone's throw distance from 
 the road, stood a tall pole, which, crowned with a bough of ripe haw- 
 thorn, and bound round with'garlands of the richest colours, Dick atonce 
 recognised the May-Pole. It was surrounded by a circle of rustics, 
 each of whom was adorned with fragrant garlands, and armed with a 
 branch of hawthorn, which was flourished in the air during the dance. 
 There were some, standing a little distance beyond the ring, who 
 played with all their might on rude instruments of music, chiefly 
 horns and pipes ; and the whole, as they danced, sung the May-day 
 song, which Brand, in his Popular Antiquities, gives as follows : 
 
 " Trip and goe. 
 Heave and hoe. 
 
 Up and downe, 
 To and fi'oe ; 
 
 From the towne, 
 To the grove. 
 
 Two and two, 
 Let us rove ; 
 A Maying, a playing ; 
 Love hath no gainsaying : 
 So menily trip and goe." 
 
 The most interesting of the dancers was Maid Marian, the Queen 
 of May, who was a pretty, modest-looking girl, in appearance about 
 nineteen years of age. She immediately recognised Master Simon as 
 an old acquaintance, and, to the \isible vexation of the representative 
 of that personage, preferred him to the long-established claims of 
 Robin Hood. There was Friar Tuck, too, with his comrade Little 
 John ; and last, not least, the Fool and his Hobby-horse ; all of whom 
 enacted their parts with consummate skill, which the musicians 
 applauded by repeatedly arresting their music to laugh. 
 
 Dick Whittington, though he joined in the dance and song, kept 
 close to the side of Master Simon, whose attentions to the May- 
 Queen were watched with a jealous eye by Robin Hood. Master 
 Simon, however, seemed to be unconscious of this surveillance, and, 
 to the mortification of his rival, continued to engross the ear and 
 discourse of his fair acquaintance. At length he led her out to the 
 dance, and this, as it was an act contrary to all precedent, and one, 
 moreover, which completely supplanted Robin Hood in his office, the 
 latter person resented in a summary way. He struck Master Simon 
 a blow on the side of the head, and, before he could return it, seized 
 him by the collar of his fi'ock. The disturbance which ensued was 
 general ; but Master Simon, though somewhat enraged, was no way 
 daunted. 
 
 " Loose your hold, dastard!" he cried to his adversary, " and 
 we'll try the combat on equal vantage."
 
 68 THE Lli'E AND TIMKS OF 
 
 " Give the gallant fair play. Sir Robin," shouted several voices. 
 
 But Robin Hood did not seem inclined to relinquish the advan- 
 tage which his sudden assault had secured to him. The struggle, 
 consequentlv, would soon have been decided in his favour, though 
 Waster Simon, perhaps, was the strongest man of the two ; but, 
 just in the ciisis of the contest, Dick Whittington entangled his right 
 leg with that of Robin, and the trio fell to the ground amidst a 
 general laugh. 
 
 Robin Hood, on regaining his feet, was too crest-fallen to renew 
 the combat, notwithstanding that his antagonist, conscious of his 
 superioritv, endeavoured to provoke him by sundiy abusive expres- 
 sions. Dick was not sorry to see the duel so easily settled, for, 
 though he entertained no doubt of his friend's valour, he thought 
 that the IVIay-Queen woidd be better pleased with this aiTangement. 
 On looking round, however, he found that the fair damsel had 
 disappeared ; and as the waggon was now in sight, and the Mayings 
 had no longer any fascination for either of them, he easily prevailed 
 on Master Simon to quit the scene of action. 
 
 They soon overtook the waggon, and, having saluted the driver, 
 walked together in the rear. 
 
 "By holydome. Sir Dickon!" said Master Simon, after a 
 moment's silence, " you have done me good service this morning. 
 I would not, for the sum of a priest's robberies, be worsted by yon 
 cock- sparrow." 
 
 Dick was silent, for the remark of his companion, he thought, 
 bordered on blasphemy. 
 
 " Marry," continued Master Simon, looking in his countenance, 
 " you like not the hint about the priests. Never mind, my poor 
 camarade, I love you too well to offend you ; but by-and-by, when 
 vou know more of these things, you will look on crafty priests with 
 as much hatred as I do." 
 
 "No more of this, fair sir," said Dick, "for Master Williams, 
 whom I suppose you knew, taught me to reverence the holy fathers." 
 
 "Ay, ay," replied Master Simon, in an energetic and serious 
 tone, " that is the grand secret of their existence — to sow the seeds 
 of their creed in infant minds. But, to quit the subject, what think 
 you of my bonny May-Queen, Dick V 
 
 " She is a goodly maiden, and a fair. Master Simon," rejoined 
 Dick, " and has a bearing above the common of country damsels." 
 
 " By St. George, good Dickon !" returned the other, " I marvel 
 at your power of discrimination. She is a paragon, and, as you 
 observe, has more polished manners than belong to country maidens. 
 True, she has lived two years with a lady of the court, but she derives 
 her grace and polish from nature, not from art." 
 
 " I have heard of such damsels," replied Dick. " I suppose," he 
 continued, " her mistress is a matchless dame." 
 
 " Ay, and you may have heard of her, good Dick," said Master 
 Simon. " She is called Dame Alice Peirers ; and, if her heart were 
 as fair as her face, would he matchless indeed." 
 
 " Does she bear an ill name, then r" a.sked Dick.
 
 t)ICK WHITTINGTON. 59 
 
 " She is the king's mistress, good Dickon," whispered his 
 companion ; " and, rumour says, persuades him to commit many an 
 unjust act." 
 
 " And yon ill-looking Robin Hood, fair sir — wot you who he is ?" 
 
 " He is steward to the same Dame Alice," replied Master Simon, 
 " and presumes, without encouragement, to be my rival with Mistress 
 Eleanor Price, the bonny May-Queen." 
 
 " Marry," cried Dick, " I mai'\'el at his assurance." 
 
 Master Simon drew himself up to his full height, cocked his hat, 
 and smiled with self-complacency. " I have told you, good Dick," 
 he said, " that you have a discretion beyond your years. You are 
 now going to the great empress of cities, where men of might, nay, 
 royalty itself, mate with men of sense ; and if you adopt these two 
 maxims — ' Perseverance accomplisheth many things,' and ' Honesty is 
 the best policy ' — my word for it but you will fare well." 
 
 " Religion teaches me these things," replied Dick. 
 
 " Of that, anon," returned his companion ; " but follow your reli- 
 gion, Dick, tiU you find a better." 
 
 " I will follow it for ever," muttered Dick, as he crossed himself. 
 
 "Poor boy!" said Master Simon aloud, and leaped into the 
 waggon. 
 
 Dick continued to walk along by himself for a few minutes. The 
 preceding conversation, and several others of a similar nature, which 
 he had held with Master Simon, caused him much uneasiness. He 
 felt a growing aft'ection towards that person, for he had experienced 
 much kindness from him on the road, and he was convinced that he 
 was acquainted with his history ; but the hints which he had thrown 
 out on religious matters, and which almost amounted to heresy, 
 awakened Dick's worst and deepest prejudices. He remembered, 
 indeed, that Master Simon had encouraged him to adopt good 
 morals ; but Dick thought, and most correctly thought, that morality 
 could exist only when built on religion. His meditation involved him 
 in much perplexity, — but the better feelings of youth prevailed at 
 last ; and having resolved to adhere steadfastly to his own faith, and 
 to suffer no diminution of his regard for Master Simon, he sprung 
 into the waggon to prepare his breakfast. 
 
 He had, in the course of the day, several other conversations with 
 Master Simon ; and, as religion was not introduced, their friendship 
 for each other continued to increase. It is not, however, the purpose 
 of the chronicler, nor would it be a matter of general interest, to 
 trace either their slow progress towards London, or the gradual 
 development of their friendly feelings ; and as nothing remarkable 
 happened during the intermediate journey, which occupied them 
 nearly a fortnight, this histoiy will at once bring them near to their 
 destination. 
 
 On the 13th of May, at sunset, the waggoner halted at an 
 hostehy wdthin Harnsey, or, as it is now designated, Hornsey, and 
 intimated to his passengers, that, as he did not wish to reach town 
 before day-break, he would remain there till midnight. Both Dick 
 and Master Simon, on receiving this intimation, determined to pro-
 
 60 THK LIKK AND TIMES OF 
 
 ceed forwards on foot ; and having refreshed themselves with a cup 
 of metheghn, which was paid for by the latter, they set forth 
 accordngly. 
 
 They soon reached Highgate Hill, where, bidding his companion 
 look around, Master Simon paused. 
 
 Before them lav the broad and fertile vallev of St. Pancras, the 
 fair manor of Cantelows, which belonged to the prebendaries of St. 
 Paul's, the vale of Highbury, and the rich manor of Totchele, now 
 Tottenham, where, when the survey of the Doomsday was executed, 
 there were " four villaus and four bordars, wood for one hundred 
 and fifty hogs, and forty shillings arising from the herbage." The 
 rich pasture and arable land was agreeably relieved by various edi- 
 fices, some grouped and some isolated ; and among these last, con- 
 spicuous from its size, was the predendal mansion at Kentistoune. 
 There was the distant church of Pancras, too, which, says old Norden, 
 " standeth all alone, as utterly forsaken, old and wether-beaten, which, 
 for the antiquity thereof, it is thought not to yeeld to Paules in 
 London." Caen Wood, or, more anciently. Ken Wood, which after- 
 wards became the seat of the noble earls of Mansfield, and Hornsey 
 Wood, which then, as now, belonged to the church, next attracted 
 the eye ; and the city far below, seated on the serpentine Thames, 
 formed altogether a scene which could not be surpassed. 
 
 A little to the dexter-side of the spot where our travellers were 
 stanchng, on the site of the existing free- school, stood the chapel or 
 hermitage, which, says Lysons, was erected bv a poor infirm hermit, 
 of whom, however, it may be observed, that he must either 
 have wrought under supernatural influence, or, despite of his infirmi- 
 ties, must have possessed a greater degree of strength than has been 
 awarded to the most hale among our cotemporaries. The hamlet of 
 Highgate occupied the same site, though not so much ground, as the 
 present village ; and was remarkably neat and clean. 
 
 Tlie two spectators of this beautiful prospect knew, from the vocal 
 and instrumental music which they overheard, that the vespertine 
 .service was being celebrated in the chapel ; but, owning perhaps to 
 disinclination on the part of Master Simon, and to the power of 
 novelty over the mind of his companion, neither one nor the other 
 entered the sacred structure. The service, indeed, was soon over ; 
 and, before our travellers were satiated with the natural beauty of the 
 scene before them,_their attention was diverted to a less pleasmg matter. 
 
 The efflux of people from the chapel repaired to a wooden statue 
 of the Virgin, which, painted to imitate mortality, and mounted on a 
 pedestal of stone, stood in the centre of the road. Some of them 
 began to dance in a circle round the image, others knelt in prayer, 
 and, as Dick and his companion approciched, they all joined in the 
 following hvmn : 
 
 Ebe ^arta. 
 
 Ave Maria! to thee we sing 
 
 With the morning's first fair light, 
 And when the sun does upward spring, 
 
 Or declines in realm of night:
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 
 
 61 
 
 And Mother, maiden and divine ! 
 
 Sitting high beside thy Son, 
 Our meed be grace and prayers of thine. 
 
 And, for aye, thy will lie done. 
 
 Ave Maria! who watchest o'er 
 
 The angelic choir above, 
 And on the true who thee adore 
 
 Straightway sheddest smiles of love ; 
 Oh, smile thou now, and smile again, 
 
 For the human lot is care ; 
 But smiles of thine assuage its pain, 
 
 Maiden Mother ! Maiden fair ! 
 
 They were about to repeat the first stanza of the hymn, and one 
 voice had already ejaculated Ave, when a tall man, having made his 
 way through the crowd, sprung on the pedestal. Master Simon, on 
 seeing him, uncovered his head, and bade Dick follow his example, 
 which he accordingly did. Such, indeed, was the impression which 
 the stranger made on the spectators, that, directly he appeared, the 
 majority of them took off their hoods, and the most respectful silence 
 was maintained by all. Dick, surprised beyond measure, enquired 
 his name. 
 
 Master Simon, in a whisper, replied — " Bill Smith." 
 
 That extraordinary person, a humble joun^eyman mechanic, was 
 well calculated for the holy design to which he devoted his life. 
 Possessed of surpassing aliilities, far beyond the opacity of his station 
 or his times, he had immediately, on the revelation of the creed of 
 that celebrated refonner, discovered the purity and excellence of 
 Wickliffe ; and, having been admitted his first disciple, assisted to 
 diffuse his doctrine over the nation. The mightiest men of the age, 
 and even, it was rumoured, the stern and haughty John of Gaunt, 
 Duke of Lancaster, had knelt fcr his benediction ; but, unaffected by 
 the distinction which he had thus attained, the blacksmith pursued, 
 conjointly with his missionary duties, his mechanical profession. To 
 such an extent, through his agency, had the new creed been dissemi- 
 nated, that the Pope had at last issued a bull, commanding the King, 
 xmder pain of an interdict, to exterminate it and its professors ; and, 
 in pursuance of this object, about six weeks anterior to the present 
 occun-ence, the government had adopted measures, which, with other 
 matters, will be detailed hi the next chapter. 
 
 Smith was about the middle age, though his countenance, im- 
 pressed with the gravity and calmness which religion is wont to 
 assume, bespoke him older. His figure was tall and commanding ; 
 and the loose dress of russet in which he was clad, and which was the 
 costume adopted by all the Lollards, was admirably suited to his 
 complexion. 
 
 On gaining the pedestal, he looked round for a moment on the 
 silent congregation, and, raising his eyes to Heaven, seemed lost in 
 inward prayer. He then began his discourse, in which, to the amaze-
 
 62 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 inent of Dick, he compared the Madonna's image to the golden calf 
 of Aaron, which simile, as none of them knew anything of Aaron, 
 was Greek to his audience. He declared, that the Virgin, though 
 the most honoured among women, was, when living, a frail mortal, 
 susceptive of the same passions, open to the same influences, liable 
 to the same wants, as the less worthy of her sex. Though, he said, 
 there was every reason to believe that she was one of the communion 
 of saints, yet so little was known of the other world, save from the 
 Gospel, which they never heard, that they could not ascertain her real 
 position. He bade his audience to honour the saints as they would 
 honour the memory of the wise and pious, for honour to them, whe- 
 ther they were quick or dead, was gratifying rather than offensive to 
 their Creator. " Nathless," he said, "honour includes not worship, 
 for worship is due to One only, and that One is Omnipotence." 
 
 A buzz at this instant arose from the audience ; and, on looking 
 round, Dick saw a priest, clad in vestments, and bearing a white cross 
 in his hand, running towards them. He was followed by the beadle, 
 and seven or eight men, armed with staves. The greater part of the 
 crowd, on the first appearance of this force, slunk away, and Dick 
 importuned Master Simon to follow their example ; but, instead of 
 acceding to his request, he held him with gentle force by the arm, 
 and remained on the spot. 
 
 Smith, without moving from the pedestal, enquired if the by- 
 standers were part of the approaching priest's flock ; and being 
 answered in the negative, and assui'ed that they were all followers of 
 himself, he directed them to preserve a peaceful demeanour. 
 
 In the meantime, the priest and his coadjutors drew nigh. Their 
 force was superior to that of Smith ; for they were ten in number, 
 and the Lollards, including Dick, comprised eight only. These, how- 
 ever, with the exception of Dick, were resolute ; and, feeling secure 
 of the protection of the Duke of Lancaster, were prepared to withstand 
 any molestation. From the well-known character of their approach- 
 ing adversary. Sir Ambrose Pollard, of Highgate, they might have 
 expected that such would ensue ; for in order to support his reputa- 
 tion for sanctity, which he had acquired by reputed austerity of life, 
 he pursued the most intolerant measures against all who were opposed 
 to Romanism. They mighthave expected, therefore, that he would 
 interfere with them ; but they could not have anticipated the extent 
 of his interference. 
 
 On coming up with them, Sir Ambrose glanced hastily over the 
 the assemblage ; and, fixing his eye on Dick, perceived that he was 
 somewhat daunted. 
 
 "What dost thou among heretics, thou blossom of sin .^" he 
 demanded. 
 
 " Nothing, an it like you, Sir Priest:" replied Dick. 
 
 " Nothing !" iterated the priest, " then take thou that for thy 
 pains !" and, with the cross which he bore in his hand, he struck him 
 over the face. 
 
 The blood gushed from Dick's nostrils, and he fell down in a 
 swoon. 
 
 " Tliy pains, Sir Ambrose, deserve abetter meed," cried Master
 
 '7) 

 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 63 
 
 Simon, and, while he was speaking, he sprung on the bosom of the 
 priest. 
 
 " Lollards to the rescue !" vociferated Smith ; and, leaping from 
 the pedestal, he dashed among the enemy. 
 
 The Lollards manfully seconded the movement of their leader, 
 who, having wrested a staff from one of his opponents, seemed likely 
 to put a speedy end to the conflict. A reinforcement, however, was 
 seen advancing to the priest's aid ; and the Lollard captain drew ofl" 
 his forces, leaving Dick and Master Simon in the hands of the enemy. 
 The retreat was effected in an orderly manner, for the fugitives, for- 
 tunately, were able to outrun their pursuers, and the priest was fain 
 to content himself with two captives. 
 
 " Throw the dogs into the vault of the chapel. Sir Beadle," cried 
 the priest ; " and to-morrow, by our offended Lady's help, they shall 
 on to London. Bind the man -heretic, but the youngster you may 
 leave loose, and haply he '11 come to his senses the sooner." 
 
 " Ay, ay. Sir Ambrose," replied the beadle ; and, binding Master 
 Simon's hands behind him, he led his captives to the place of 
 duresse. 
 
 This, as the jiriest had directed, was the vault beneath the chapel, 
 and had been used, by those who had entrusted their manes to the 
 care of the church, as a place of sepulture. Dick was deposited on 
 the dank floor ; and the beadle having loosened the collar of his 
 gabardine, in order that he might breathe more freely, took a jailer's 
 leave, and secured the entrance on the outside. 
 
 Dick soon recovered from his swoon ; and, having been made 
 acquainted with their situation by Master Simon, felt his attachment 
 to priest-rule beginning to wane. 
 
 " It is a said mischance, Master Simon Racket," he said, at 
 length ; " but it boots not to despond. We should rather, with the 
 help of St. Julian, devise some way of escape." 
 
 " I will none of your saints," replied the other, " for they say 
 this priest is a saint, and I doubt not but they will canonize him 
 hereafter. I will apply to my Father who is in Heaven, and who, if 
 there be any such folk, is mightier than the saints." 
 
 Dick, whose eyes had now become familiar with the opacity of 
 the vault, observed his companion kneel down. He himself repeated 
 a Pater-noster; for though, when in communication with his fellow- 
 ci'eatures, he was undaunted as he was gentle, the place which he 
 now occupied excited a host of ideal terrors. As he endeavoured to 
 survey the vault with his eye, and found himself unable to penetrate 
 to its limits, he became, like a good Catholic, fearful that the inmates 
 of the coflins which were ranged on shelves round the vault, and 
 which his fears had already detected, might visit his curiosity with 
 personal interference. He determined, therefore, to wait Master 
 Simon's assistance, which that person soon vouchsafed him. 
 
 " Have with you, gafter Dick," cried Master Simon, as he rose 
 from his knees ; " have with you ; but you must first unloose 
 my hands." 
 
 " Dick drew forth his knife, or, as it was generally called, skene.
 
 64 THK LIKE AND TIMES OF 
 
 which was then the sole instrument used at meals, and which, as it 
 was always carried about the person, was frequently apphed to less 
 pacific purposes. " Tliou art free so far," he said, and cut the hand- 
 bonds in twain. 
 
 " But, gatier," interposed Master Simon, " we have the greatest 
 difficulty to meet as yet ; and, by holydome, I see not a crevice that 
 u ghost, much less a substantial man, could contrive to creep 
 through." 
 
 " Say as httle as you like about ghosts," whispered Dick. " But 
 look, spv vou not a glimmer of light yonder?" 
 
 " Graraercv, do I," returned Master Simon ; " and I wis 'tis 
 daylight." 
 
 " Nay, fair sir," said Dick, " the day is spent ; but, not-the-less, 
 'twill suit our purpose." 
 
 As he thus expressed himself, Dick pushed on to the spot which 
 he had pointed out. The light, as he had supposed, was that of 
 Heaven ; but its faintness augured the expiration of day. It entered 
 through a small square orifice, such as may still be seen in the vaults 
 of old churches, but which, though it offered no obstruction in the 
 shape of, bars, seemed to be at too great an altitude to afford them 
 an outlet. 
 
 " A pleasant prospect, trulv," muttered Master Simon ; " but the 
 backward view — the brimstone cap and gown of pitch — oflends the 
 nostrils." 
 
 " And is that likely to be cur ])ortion. Master Simon ?" 
 
 " Which .^" asked the other. 
 
 " The stake?" said Dick, shuddering. 
 
 " Nay, boy, be not afeard," replied Master Simon. " While John 
 of Gaunt can wield a sword, or England holds a BUI Smith, the 
 Church will crave in vain for burnt offerings. But I was thinking- 
 what she would do if she durst ; and even as it is, if this churlish 
 priest charge us vdth riot, mischief may come of it." 
 
 Dick turned away with a throbbing heart. He then advanced a 
 few yards up the vault, and, as he was pi'oceding farther, came into 
 collision with some upright body. He uttered an exclamation, but 
 Master Simon could not tell whether it was one of terror or delight. 
 
 "' What hath lmp])ed thee, Dickon?" he cried. 
 
 " A ladder I" exclaimed Dick. 
 
 " Of a surety, then," said Master Simon, bounding forviards, " it 
 is by that, when a great man is buried, the priests descend to 
 sing (/e pro/taulis. I'gh !" he exclaimed, as he examined the ladder 
 with ills hands, " 'tis rotten as touchwood." 
 
 " 'Twill bear our weight, I ween," rejoined Dick. " Catch thou 
 hold of that side, fair sir ; and let us transfer it to the aperture." 
 
 The ladder, however, resisted their efforts to remove it ; and 
 Dick, on ascending to examine the cause, discovered that it was 
 bolted to a trap-door, in the roof of the vault. But the bolt being 
 weak, he soon mastered this diflficulty ; and, with the help of Master 
 Simon, the removal of the ladder was at last effected.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 65 
 
 CHAPTER III. THE ESCAPE. 
 
 AVHICH RELATES TPIE MANNER OF DICK WHITTINGTOn's ENTRY 
 INTO LONDON. 
 
 It sometimes happens, in moments of perplexity or danger, that 
 an essential particular will escape the observation of a far-seeing 
 leader, and, when all would otherwise be lost, be provided for by 
 the foresight, or corrected by the personal prowess, of an inexperi- 
 enced recruit. And, to quit the camp for civil life, there often 
 arise instances, in the middle and humbler walks of society, of 
 puerile caution and decision, in contradistinction to the impru- 
 dence and irresolution of maturity. Thus it was, that when Master 
 Simon Racket and Dick Whittington had placed the ladder against 
 the aperture of the chapel vault, the latter person reminded his 
 comrade that they had still some preparations to make, and that 
 it would be advisable, in order to facilitate their escape, to tarry 
 the setting in of night. 
 
 " By my sooth, gaffer," said Master Simon, " you speak sensi- 
 bly. It is likely, I ween, that they may have set a watchman 
 outside ; and this aperture, they well know, is the only outlet 
 which will avail us. Wherefore, gaffer, we will abide still till 
 dark." 
 
 " Ay, fair sir," replied Dick, " but suppose we should have to 
 run hard ?" 
 
 " Truly, Dick, I am your mate at that. I will run you a mile 
 or two like a troop of Frenchmen, when chased by two English- 
 men. I can run you with most men, I warrant." 
 
 " In those crooked buskins ?" asked Dick, pointing at Master 
 Simon's shoes. 
 
 " Most sapient Dick," said the other, "thou hast a keen know- 
 ledge of matters, I promise thee : nathless, Dick, these be not 
 known by the name of crooked buskins, but, better, as crackowes, 
 being of foreign origin, and, moreover, of goodly shape. How- 
 beit, they are not made for flying men, wherefore they must be 
 altered." 
 
 And, stooping down. Master Simon took off the gilt chains 
 which fastened the peaks of his shoes to his knees, and having 
 put them in the pouch of his doublet, and stripped his hood of 
 the cord which encircled it, he l)ent the peaks of his crackowes 
 over the top, and lashed them down with the cord. He surveyed 
 them for a moment with a look of the greatest complacency; and
 
 66 THB LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 as he glanced at the full firm limbs which they footed, and which 
 his tight hose revealed somewhat too distinctly, muttered some- 
 thing about fine legs being indispensable to an aspirant for the 
 favour of fair ladies — a prejudice which seemed to inspire him 
 with a comfortable degree of contentation. 
 
 " The ladder is somewhat crazy, Master Dickon," he observed, 
 shaking it with a gentle hand, " but it must needs serve our turn, 
 I suppose." 
 
 " Methinks," replied Dick, "when we determine on ascending, 
 I had better mount me first, for if it give way then (and I think 
 it will not), 'twill at least serve me to win the top. Then, Avith 
 my help, you can get up without much difficulty." 
 
 *" Well said, Dick," returned Master Simon, " and bravely." 
 
 " Be it so settled then, fair sir," rejoined Dick; and they waited 
 silently for a favourable hour. 
 
 At length, when the increased darkness betokened night, though, 
 unfortunately, it was one of the mild starlit nights of May, Dick 
 ascended the ladder. On reaching the summit he protruded his 
 head from the aperture to reconnoitre ; but as the view on either 
 side was interrupted by a buttress of the chapel, he was unable to 
 make a complete survey. Having, however, listened a moment, 
 and hearing no sounds to alarm him, he pronounced it all right, 
 and crept into the shadow of one of the aforementioned buttresses. 
 Master Simon then commenced his ascent ; but, though it afforded 
 a firm support to the light person of his companion, the ladder was 
 not adequate to his superior weight. He felt the thrums trem- 
 bling beneath his feet, and had just grasped a hold of the stanch- 
 ions of the aperture, when, with a sonorous crash, the ladder gave 
 way. 
 
 "Haste, for the love of heaven ! " whispered Dick, "we are dis- 
 covered." 
 
 Master Simon bounded out of the aperture, and had just gained 
 his feet, when a third person confronted them. 
 
 " Ho, ho, my rovers ! " he cried, "you've got out, have you? " 
 
 The speaker was a powerful-looking man, dressed, as were all 
 the watchmen of the period, in a black-jack, or jerkin of proof — 
 so called from certain pieces of iron, shaped like diamonds, which 
 were strung in rows round the jerkin, and which swung round 
 with every movement of the body — a buff hood, and hanselines of 
 the same material. Master Simon, however, was not intimidated 
 by his formidable appearance ; but, summoning all his strength 
 for the ])urpose, straightway administered him a blow in the face. 
 His adversary, though he was armed with a falchion, instantly 
 closed with him ; and in the struggle which ensued, and in which 
 he had the advantage, contrived' to drag Master Simon to the 
 other side of the buttress. There he succeeded in throwing him, 
 and jHitting his right foot on his breast, seized a rope which was 
 hanging down by the wall, and pulled the alarm bell.
 
 DICE WHITTINGTON. 09 
 
 Dick, unwilling to leave his friend in durance, had been watch- 
 ing for an opportunity to interpose, but had hitherto been foiled. 
 At this instant, however, he darted forwards, and so stealthily, 
 that he was unobserved. The watchman was holding Master 
 Simon with one hand, and pulling the alarm bell Avith the other, 
 when, throwing all his weight on the blow, Dick plunged his 
 skene into the muscles of his arm. The watchman bellowed with 
 pain and surprise, and turned to attack his assailant, but Master 
 Simon, relieved from the pressure of his foot, sprang to his feet, 
 and, with a well-directed blow, prostrated him on the earth. 
 
 The two fugitives instantly made for the high road, and, on 
 reaching it, discovered that a hue-and-cry was already raised. 
 The whole hamlet seemed to have turned out auxiliaries ; and 
 horses, as well as men, were put in requisition for the pursuit. 
 
 "If we can but reach yonder valley," blustered Master Simon, 
 running at his utmost speed, " I can put them off the scent." 
 
 But the pursuers, being mounted, were rapidly gaining on 
 them, and Master Simon deemed it politic to take to the bush. 
 They had scarcely resolved upon this course, and planted them- 
 selves in a co})se by the road-side, when a party of their pursuers 
 galloped past, hallooing each other forwards. 
 
 " Of a surety," observed Master Simon, in a broken whisper, 
 " the villains are at fault. Follow me, Dickon, and thou shalt 
 have part of my bed in Aldgate to-night." 
 
 Though it was not an easy task to follow Master Simon, whose 
 route lay over ploughed fields and five-bar gates, Dick was too 
 expert a pedestrian to be run short, and, to the surprise of the 
 active citizen, manifested none of that timidity which would have 
 been only natural to a boy of his years. Indeed, instead of utter- 
 ing any expression of fear, he could scarcely repress the exult- 
 ation, and even laughter, Avhich the circumstances of their flight 
 excited ; and his inclination to risibility was increased, if not 
 occasioned, by the ludicrous figure of his good-natured companion. 
 Pufiing and running, and occasionally looking back over his 
 shoulder, and then trying to make some broken sentences under- 
 stood, and groaning at his bad success or short wind, Master 
 Simon Racket was rather a laughable spectacle to one whose per- 
 ceptions of the ridiculous Avere as sensitive as those of Dick. 
 
 They soon reached the vale of Highbury, which was the locality 
 that Master Simon considered free of danger, but as it was two 
 hours after curfeAv, the place Avhere he had expected to find enter- 
 tainment Avas closed. Having rested aAvhile, they resumed their 
 journey, and arrived at Aldgate Avithout further interruption. 
 Here, though it Avas contrary to law, Master Simon was too well 
 knoAvn to the watch to be refused admittance ; and, without being 
 questioned by the warder, he led Dick through the postern. 
 
 As Dick entered the city of London, and, taking off his hat, 
 devoutly crossed himself, the clock of St Paul's Cathedral chimed
 
 68 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 the hour of midnight ; and at each stroke of the hour, as the sound 
 rang solemnly over the slumbering city, he felt his young heart 
 quake with involuntary apprehension. This, then, was London — 
 the o-reat and magnificent London, which, though yet in its 
 infancy, was a giant among the nations of the earth. There it lay, 
 sad and silent as a lonely sepulchre, with its repose broken only 
 bv the creaking of its countless sign-boards, the periodical cry of 
 its wakeful Avarders, or the more solemn warning of its iron- 
 tongued clocks. And how soon, in a few short hours, would it 
 wake to worldliness again ! when its broad river, which was like 
 the life-blood of England, Avould pour in the world's wealth to 
 London marts, — Avhen its quays, its shops, its streets, and its 
 palaces, would be busy with life and speculation !
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON 69 
 
 CHAPTER IV. THE CITY. 
 
 SHOWS HOW THE CITIZENS OF LONDON WERE DIVIDED IN THEIR 
 POLITICAL OPINIONS, AND HOW THE ROMAN CLERGY INCITED 
 THE MOB TO RIOT. 
 
 Having brought Dick to the termination of his journey, it is 
 necessary, before his further progress can be noted, that the 
 chronicler shoukl glance at the great political events which then 
 agitated the metropolis. 
 
 From the time of the demise of the Black Prince, about a year 
 previous, the king had taken little interest in public affairs, 
 which were conducted by his other far-famed son, John of Gaunt. 
 This illustrious prince, who is ancestor of the existing ducal 
 family of Beaufort, then possessed the confidence of all parties ; 
 but his opposition to the Romish clergy, with whose arrogance 
 and enormous crimes he was justly disgusted, soon deprived him 
 of many of his adherents. The priesthood, including all the 
 wealthier denominations of monks and friars, availed themselves 
 of every opportunity of assailing his administration, and, not 
 content with distorting facts, endeavoured to lead the public to 
 believe that he was aiming at the crown. 
 
 Among the boldest of his opponents was Sir Peter de la More, 
 an active and wary demagogue, who, soon after the Duke of 
 Lancaster's accession to power, introduced to parliament an in- 
 solent address, which, with other things, required his instant 
 removal. For this and some other misdemeanours he was com- 
 mitted a prisoner to Newark Castle, where he remained in con- 
 finement for some time. The clergy, who regarded him as their 
 champion, ascribed this arbitrary act, not to the duke, but to the 
 influence of Dame Alice Perrers, of whom StoAve says, " by over- 
 much familiaritie she had with the king, she Avas the cause of 
 much mischiefe in the realme ; she, exceeding the manner of 
 women, sate by the king's justices, and sometimes by the doctors 
 in the consistories, perswading and disswading in defence of mat- 
 ters, and requesting things contrarie to lawe and honestie, to the 
 great dishonour of the king." But though the lady had the 
 credit of the act, the priests hinted that she had been urged to it 
 by the duke, whom they stigmatized as her confederate; and,
 
 70 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 notwithstanding that tlie public morals were not very punctilious, 
 the idea of there being such a contract between such persons, 
 excited general discontent. Thus two parties were created among 
 the commonalty, and the aristocracy, though the greater part 
 sided M-itli the duke, were also divided. 
 
 The clergy had a powerful advocate at court in Walter Wick- 
 ham, Bishop of Winchester, who lield the office of lord chan- 
 cellor. By acting a double part, and seeming to discountenance 
 the populace, he contrived to deceive the duke for some time ; 
 and while he pretended to censure, was intriguing to bring in, the 
 opposition. His real principles, however, were soon discovered, 
 and he was deprived of his office, and, after undergoing a trial, of 
 his bishopric. 
 
 This measure raised the church in arms. From the cathedral 
 pulpit to the public cross, by mitred bishop and mendicant friar, 
 the Duke of Lancaster ^^■as denounced as an enemy of the church, 
 a betrayer of the king, and an oppressor of the people. The 
 citizens were told, in a sermon preached at St Paul's cross, that 
 this attack on the rights of churchmen was but the precursor of a 
 more violent assault on the ])rivileges of the city ; and they were 
 exhorted, as they valued their franchise, to insist on the restora- 
 tion of the bishop. Nor were the nobility suffered to remain 
 quiescent. It Avas represented to them, with all the Jesuitry for 
 which the priests of Rome are so notorious, that the duke was 
 aggrandizing himself at their expense, and that, when he had 
 prevailed against the church, he would turn his power against 
 them. At this crisis a parliament was assembled, and, though 
 the majority were his adherents, the duke thought it prudent to 
 restore the bishop. 
 
 *' About this season," says Hollinshed, '' there rose in the 
 imiversity of Oxenforde a learned man, John Wickliffe, borne in 
 the north j^aits, who, being a secular priest, and a student in 
 divinitie, began to propose certeiue conclusions greatlie contrarie 
 to the doctrine of the church in those daies established." Through 
 Wickliffe did the duke endeavour to enlighten the citizens ; and 
 Bill Smith, whom this history has before noticed, ably supported 
 him. But the church was too deeply concerned to endure their 
 attacks patiently; and tlierefore, on the 19th of February, 1377, 
 Wickliffe was cited before the bishops in St Paul's church, 
 " there tu be convicted for words that he had spoken." 
 
 In the meantime every machination which j)apacy could invent 
 was resorted to for the j)ur])ose of exciting the people. Sermons 
 were preached in the most j)ublic places, exjiorting all christians 
 to support the chui'ch, and threatening the diffident with the most 
 terri})h; punishment; and emissaries were disj)ersed among the 
 populac(>, vlio liinted that the duke was a heretic, and Wickliffe 
 an agent of the devil. The rabble, whose opinions were soon
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 71 
 
 turned, were thus brought into opposition to their own interests, 
 and, though they had originally been disposed to favour AVick- 
 liffe, ranged themselves on the side of the bishops. Such was the 
 state of affairs when the 1 9th of February arrived. 
 
 " After the ninth houre," says Stowe, " the duke and Sir Henry 
 Percy, and divers other assisters going before him, Wickliff was 
 brought forth, not only by the common Serjeants, but also by Sir 
 Henry Percy himselfe, who was chiefs marshal of England, 
 being by the way animated by his favourers not to feare the 
 bishops, neither the concourse of people, seeing that he was walled 
 in by so many knights and others." He did not display any 
 fear ; and his judges, surprised at the coolness with which he met 
 the charges brought against him, and anticipating an exposure of 
 their own colossal iniquity, Avere afraid to proceed. The mob 
 were accordingly urged to interfere ; but Sir Henry Percy, pene- 
 trating the design, commanded his followers to keep them back. 
 For this he was rebuked by the Bishop of London, who threat- 
 ened to expel him from the church ; when the Duke of Lancaster, 
 exasperated at the prelate's arrogance, swore that he would drag 
 him by his beard from the altar. This silenced the bishop, but 
 the mob were not so easily quieted. A tumult broke out in the 
 church, and the court adjourned, leaving WicklifFe at large. 
 
 The clergy were chagrined beyond measure at this result. 
 They fully expected that Wickliffe would have been condemned, 
 and as he had escaped through the instrumentality of the duke, 
 they boldly denounced that personage as a heretic. Excited by 
 these bitter harangues, the populace ran to arms ; and proceeding 
 to the Savoy, where the duke resided, attacked that edifice. The 
 duke and his household were absent, and no one was in the 
 palace except a Lollard priest, who, says Stow, " chauncing to 
 mete them, asked of some what that business meant. Whereunto 
 he was answered, that they went to take the duke and the Lord 
 Percy, that they might be compelled to deliver to them Sir 
 Peter de la More, whom they unjustly kept in prison. The 
 priest said that Peter de la More was a traytour to the king, and 
 worthie to be hanged. With which words they all cried, * this is 
 Percy, this is the traytour of England, his speech bewrayeth 
 him, though he be disguised in apparel.' Then ran they all 
 upon him, striving who would give him his death's wound ; after 
 they had wounded him they carried him to prison, where he soon 
 die'd." 
 
 The Bishop of London, Avho had been the principal inciter of 
 the rioters, now began to dread the duke's resentment ; and with 
 a view of deceiving him, in which he succeeded, rode into the 
 city, and exhorted the mob to disperse. Thus order was restored ; 
 and the palace, which was on the point of being destroyed, pre- 
 served from the popular fury till the next outbreak.
 
 72 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 It is necessary to add, in order that the chronicler may avoid a 
 second digression, that the duke, blinded by the crafty policy of 
 the prelate, ascribed the attack on liis palace, and the brutal 
 murder of the clergyman, to the citizens. Highly exasperated, 
 lie swore that the mayoralty should thenceforward be abolished, 
 and that, as a prevention to future disorders, the city should be 
 governed by a marshal, to be appointed by the king. This project 
 was still in agitation when Dick arrived in the metropolis.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 73 
 
 CHAPTER Y. THE SHIP. 
 
 IN WHICH DICK VISITS THE BARK UNICORN, WHERE A SERIOUS 
 ACCIDENT BEFALLS HIM. 
 
 As the bells of the priory of the Trinity, the convent of the 
 Minories, the monastery of the Crossed or Crutched Friars, and 
 the other temples and religious houses in the neighbourhood, l)e- 
 gan to summon the devotee to matinal prayers, and the liglit of 
 a lovely May morning streamed through the casement of his 
 lodging, Master Simon Racket awoke from a slumber which had 
 for several hours absorbed his faculties, and, sneezing three times, 
 seemed to be undecided whether to I'ise or no. But the bells 
 continued to chime, the light continued to pour througli the 
 reticulated window, the morning freshness was too d(4iglitful to 
 be resisted, and, after a vain attempt to recall liis dreams, he 
 emerged from the bed-clothes. 
 
 " Gramercy, comrade !" he cried, awaking Dick with a shake, 
 " 'tis nigh the sixth hour. Art rested enough ?" 
 
 " In sooth, fair sir," replied Dick, ^' I was a-weary when I lay 
 down, wherefore I have slept beyond my hour. But thanks to 
 holidame !" he continued, as he turned out on the floor, " I am 
 much refreshed." 
 
 " Don thy clothes then, Dickon," rejoined the other, '^ and we 
 will break our fast on shipboard." 
 
 " Where ?" asked Dick. 
 
 '' Master Cobb's ship, the Unicorn," replied Master Simon. 
 " It lies down at the Queen's Hithe, where, when you are 
 appareled, we will wend our way." 
 
 Dick dispatched his ablutions, and having attired himself with 
 more than ordinary care, declared his readiness to proceed. Ac- 
 cordingly, they descended to the street. 
 
 The first object Avhich, on his reaching the street, attracted 
 Dick's attention, was the gate by which they had entered the city 
 on the antecedent night. This, according to Stowe, " is called 
 Aeldgate, because of the antiquity or age thereof. This is one 
 and the first of four principal gates, and also one of the seven 
 double gates, mentioned by Fitzstephen. It hath had two pair of 
 gates, though now but one ; the hooks of them both remain. 
 Also there hath been two port-closes (portcullises). For antiquity 
 of the gate, it appeareth by a charter from King Edgar to the
 
 74 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 knights of Knighton Guild, that in his days the said port was 
 called Ealdgate, as you may read in the ward of Portsoken." 
 
 As he gazed on this venerable structure, and his companion 
 humoured him so far as to relate some of the historical incidents 
 connected with it, a third voice struck into the conversation. 
 
 " Thou spokest not, brother Simon, of the spoliation of the 
 children of Israel. Tell now, how our dwelling-places were de- 
 stroyed to build up the gate of the Gentile." 
 
 " Marry, Master Salmon," replied the citizen, as, turning 
 round, he recognized a friend in the person of the stranger, " you 
 would recall a matter which makes me blush for our guild. 
 Pr'ythee sj)eak not of it ; for our discourse may give offence." 
 
 As Master Simon spoke, he fixed his eye on Dick, whom the 
 stranger immediately turned to scrutinize. Dick, though he saw 
 that his examinator was a Jew, met his glance with the unas- 
 suming air which was characteristic of his face ; and, while his 
 own appearance was undergoing examination, did not fail to 
 make reprisals. The Jew seemed to have reached his fiftieth 
 year. He was attired in a long black gown, open in front, and 
 collared with a coarse fur; a cap of black cloth, which fitted 
 close to his head ; a brown doublet, and hose of the same colour. 
 His beard was long, and descended to his breast ; where, attached 
 to a gilt chain which was turned round his neck, an antique 
 amulet, or locket, was suspended. 
 
 " Thou hast not sojourned long amongst us, good youth," he 
 said to Dick, " and knowest not our ways ; wherefore, I pray 
 you, beware of the children of Mammon. Go thy ways, brother 
 Simon ; we shall see each other anon." 
 
 " Farewell, Master Salmon," rejoined the citizen ; and, taking 
 Dick by the arm, he Avalked leisurely down Aldgate. 
 
 " You would like to know somewhat of yon Jew, I ween," he 
 said to Dick. 
 
 '■'• If it be not sin to tell," replied Dick, crossing himself. 
 
 " Pshaw !" exclaimed Master Simon, " your religion damns 
 him whether he be good or bad. And yet Dickon," he continued 
 in a milder tone, " our Lord was a Jew." 
 
 Dick made no reply. 
 
 " Well," continued the other, " Master Salmon, for so he is 
 called, is the artfullest pottingar in the city. He will heal you a 
 wound, or cure you a fever, or cut you off a limb, with marvel- 
 lous dexterity. In sooth, your barber-chirurgeon, Avho mortally 
 hates our pottingar, will swear you that he deals in art magic ; 
 and such a charge is his best commendation to wise men." 
 
 " Nay," cried Dick, " our Lady forefend !" 
 
 " Nathless, Dickon," rejoined Master Simon, *' your clerk will 
 tell you there is no such matter as art magic." 
 
 " Of a surety, then," replied Dick, " your clerk tells a falsity." 
 
 " Haply not," returned Master Simon. " But credit me, Dick,
 
 DICK WHITTINaTON. fS 
 
 yon Jew pottingar meddles not with it. Bethink you now, if he 
 dealt in things damned, could he love a Christen man ?" 
 
 " No 5 that could he not," said Dick. 
 
 *' Then, by good St George ! he loves me well," rejoined 
 Master Simon. " Last Martinmas, when I lay ill of a fever, and 
 your barber-chirurgeon could do nothing with me, his love reco- 
 vered me right speedily. Nay, more, he has often proffered to 
 teach me the craft of reading and writing." 
 
 ** Can he read and write, then ?" said Dick, amazed. 
 
 " Aye, can he," replied Master Simon j " and talk you Latin 
 like a fat freer." 
 
 '* Holy dome ! can he con you the stars ?" 
 
 '' I trow no," rejoined Master Simon. *' But hold, Dick," he 
 added, suddenly arresting his steps, " see vou this priestcraft 
 here?" 
 
 Dick looked towards the wall which his comrade pointed out, 
 and perceived thereon a knightly scutcheon, reversed, and 
 smeared with dirt. It bore the arms of the Duke of Lancaster — 
 Parti j)e7' pale, Leon and England, three lions passant, or, en- 
 circled by the device of the recently-instituted Order of the 
 Garter. 
 
 As Master Simon contemplated this insult to the patron of his 
 party, his indignation began to evince itself in several imprudent 
 expressions, which in all probability would have been followed by 
 still more imprudent measures, when Dick, uttering an excla- 
 mation of surprise, disengaged himself from his hold, and ran off. 
 Master Simon, amazed at this unexpected proceeding, remained 
 gazing after him for a moment ; but at last, fearful that he would 
 entangle himself in the maze of courts which intersected the city, 
 he followed him. 
 
 He perceived that Dick was pursuing another person, who was 
 far a-head of him, and running at his utmost speed. Master 
 Simon watched the direction in which they diverged from the 
 street, and, gliding down a passage which cut off a considerable 
 angle, hoped to intercept them at its termination. In this, how- 
 ever, he was disappointed, for though he found Dick standing 
 there when he came up, and the courts around seemed to afford 
 no place of concealment, the stranger had disappeared. 
 
 " He is gone," he cried, looking at Dick. 
 " Aye, gone, gone," rejoined Dick, mournfully. 
 " Marry, boy," said Master Simon, " What ails thee ? Who 
 is this carle ?" 
 
 Dick hesitated. " I may not tell," he said, at length. 
 " You are a strange youth," observed Master Simon. " But 
 clear your countenance I pray you, for we ar? going to face a 
 strange man." 
 
 Master Simon took Dick by the arm, and turning down Bowe 
 Lane, walked hastily towards the Queen's Hith, which, as a
 
 76 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Stranger would have discovered from the forest of masts, was 
 situated at the bottom of that thoroughfare. 
 
 Tlie bus-tle Avhieh, even at this early hour, prevailed in this 
 locahty, and the appearance of business which its approaches 
 wore, "called forth the surprise and admiration of Dick, whose 
 ideas of commerce were wholly derived from the market-place of 
 Taunton, which he had visited occasionally in the company of 
 Master WilUams. His astonishment Avas increased when they 
 arrived at the Queen's Hith, " so called," says StoAv, " of a water- 
 gate, or harborrow for boats, lighters and barges ; and was (of old 
 time) for ships, at what time, the timber bridge of London was 
 drawn up, for the passage of them to the said Hith, as to a prin- 
 cipal strand for landing and unlading against the midst and heart 
 of the city." 
 
 " A jjlank ! a plank !" shouted Master Simon, as they reached 
 the quay. 
 
 ' Aye, aye, my master,' replied a voice from one of the 
 vessels." 
 
 A moment afterwards Dick and his comrade were on board of 
 ' The Unicorn.' 
 
 It was, as ancient historians would say, " a greate ship," 
 carrying two tall masls, and a raised forecastle and poop. Several 
 mariners on the upper deck were engaged in painting and other- 
 M'ise repairing the timliers, and a few were in the shi'ouds, 
 amending the ligging. Leaving Dick to lean over the weather- 
 bow, which looked towards the centre of the Hith, and had an 
 unoccupied ai-ea in front, the chronicler will attend Master Simon 
 down the hatchway, whither he was led in his way to the cap- 
 tain's cabin. 
 
 Master Simon inducted himself to this apartment without using 
 the clicket, which, according to an old inventory of ship furni- 
 tui'e, was then appended to the doors of the principal ca)>ins ; 
 and, having first made a more respectful obeisance than was his 
 Avont, saluted its occupant. 
 
 " I pray you, Simon Racket," said this person, " sit you down 
 on the settle ; and, till I exact them from you, dispense with 
 these antics." 
 " My Lord"— 
 
 " St George, man !" whispered the other, " thy unlucky respect 
 will one day betray me. Call me, as you have been used to do. 
 Master Cobbs." 
 
 " Well, Master Cobbs, then," said the citizen, seating himself 
 on the settle, " I went, as you directed me, to Taunton Castle ; 
 but was unable to see the persons whom my mission con- 
 cerned." • 
 
 " Whom saw you, tlien ?" 
 
 " I saw the Castilian, who told me that the Baron, accom- 
 panied by Muster Henry, Avhom he called the young Cavalier,
 
 DICK WHITTIXGTON. 77 
 
 and Hubert Cromwell, had gone to London, to attend the par- 
 liament." 
 
 " And told he not where they lodge in London ?" 
 
 " Aye, did he," replied Master Simon. "■ They lodge Avith the 
 Earl of Hereford, in Leaden Hall." 
 
 " Yon have done your mission well, honest Simon," rejoined 
 Cobbs, " and have won my hearty thanks for your guerdon. 
 Holydome, I have few friends, but you rank among the fore- 
 most." 
 
 " I am proudful to know^ it," said Master Simon. 
 
 " Well, be guarded in your portance towards me," returned 
 Master Cobbs, " for the blood-hound is on the scent. Salmon, 
 the Jew mediciner, tells me that he is attending the parliament, 
 and carrying on an intrigue with Dame Ferrers, who wants no 
 incentive to do me wrong." 
 
 " Credit me," replied Master Simon, " if our pottingar have 
 his eye on them they will hardly be able to harm you. More- 
 over, to speak sooth, I have a leman in the dame's service, and 
 so I will be able to observe their motions." 
 
 " Many thanks, Simon," returned Master Cobbs. " But did 
 you not visit the hostelry ?" 
 
 " I did, and found that it had been destroyed by fire." 
 
 " I know the story," said Cobbs, smiling. " But the boy, 
 young Whittington, heard you aught of him ?" 
 
 '* I brought him hither," replied Master Simon. " Yet I know 
 not what we can do for him — nothing, in sooth, worthy of him, 
 for he hath a stock of sense and courage, and religion to boot, 
 much above his peers." 
 
 " And besides this," said Master Cobbs, " I love him, for he 
 was my foster-sister's son. But I can do nothing noAv beyond 
 placing him in Fitzwarren's kitchen. You will keep your eye on 
 him ; and when I return, Dame Ferrers may be in disgrace, and 
 I will then provide for him more meetly." 
 
 " This will be an unmeet provision indeed," said Master 
 Simon. *' But," he added, after musing a moment, " I see not 
 hoAv we can amend it." 
 
 " Alas, no ! " returned the other. " Where did you leave him, 
 Simon?" 
 
 " On the forecastle," replied the citizen. 
 
 " Then.we will repair thither," said Master Cobbs, and rising 
 from his seat, he moved towards the door. 
 
 As Masters Cobbs and Simon Racket ascended the hatch, they 
 heard a loud scream, which was accompanied by a splash in the 
 water. 
 
 " The boy is overboard," shouted half a dozen voices. 
 
 Master Cobbs sprang to the deck with the velocity of light. 
 The next moment he was in the gangway ; but before he reached 
 the water, Dick — for him it was — had sunk for the second time.
 
 78 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 The water was deep, and, what was of more consequence to an 
 expert swimmer, the Hith was so crowded with vessels as almost 
 to preclude swimming ; but, undismayed by these circumstances, 
 Master Cobbs immediately jumped in. He had scarcely touched 
 the water when Dick rose again ; and, stretching his arm to its 
 full length, he strove to catch him. He missed him. 
 
 A buzz arose from the spectators, and, before it subsided. 
 Master Cobbs had disappeared. It seemed an hour, though it 
 was not a minute, before he again appeared, dragging Dick along 
 with him. He held him above the water Avith his right hand, in 
 which, as the blood was oozing therefrom, he had apparently 
 received a wound; and with his left hand and legs, which he 
 plied unceasingly, executed that nice and difficult movement 
 which swimmers so much admire. A rope Avas thrown to him, 
 and with the help of two of the mariners, who were just preparing 
 to jump in after him, he succeeded in raising Dick to the deck. 
 
 " He is dead ! he is dead !" cried Master Simon, as he loosened 
 Dick's collar. 
 
 Indeed, Dick presented no sign of life. His eyes were open, 
 and Avore the glassy, imageless impression of death ; and his 
 nostrils and mouth, though not yet collapsed, Avere covered Avith 
 foam. His limbs were motionless and stiff, and his pulse was 
 still. 
 
 " Tiy thy skill in chirurgery, Simon," said Master Cobbs j 
 " 'tAVould better befit thee than playing the woman." 
 
 " Alas, he is dead !" replied Master Simon. 
 
 " He is NOT dead," said a voice among the bye-standers. 
 
 Master Simon instantly made room for the speaker. It was 
 the JeAV mediciner. 
 
 " Bear him down to the cabin," said the Jcaa^, as he passed his 
 hand over Dick's heart. " Exclude all air, Avrap him in blankets, 
 and credit me, brother Simon, he will yet be restored to you. 
 
 The mediciner's directions Avere immediately obeyed ; and, after 
 he had dispatched Master Simon to his house for a casket Avhich 
 he specified, and which, he said, contained medicines of rare 
 potency, he shut himself up Avith his patient. 
 
 Master Simon was not long away. On his return, he found 
 Master Cobbs pacing the deck, and learned that the pottingar 
 was still closeted Avith Dick. He descended to the cabin, and, 
 inflicting a gentle knock Avith the clicket, the door Avas opened by 
 the JeAV, Avho took the casket, and dismissed him. 
 
 " I had rather," said the citizen, as he gained the side of 
 Master Cobbs, '' I had rather. Sir Cobbs, have been well soused 
 myself." 
 
 " I am afeard," rejoined the other, " that Dick's is more than 
 well soused. The pottingar's craft, I ween, Avill not avail him." 
 
 " Our Lord assoilzie him, then !" said Master Simon. 
 
 '' What, do'st pray for the dead?" asked Cobbs.
 
 
 <t/ 1^^
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 79 
 
 Master Simon coloured. " 'Twas said without thought," he 
 replied. 
 
 " And said with a good intent," returned Cobbs ; " wherefore, 
 Simon, 'twas a loyal prayer." 
 
 " And yet," observed a third voice, which they immediately knew 
 to be that of the pottingar, " 'twas without ground of reason." 
 
 Thus interrupted, the two friends turned round to reply to the 
 Jew, when, to their amazement, they beheld Dick standing by 
 his side. 
 
 " A marvel ! a marvel !" shouted Master Cobbs. 
 
 Master Simon folded Dick in his arms. 
 
 " What matters the people ?" said a little thin man, who, while 
 the others were thus engaged, stepped on board. 
 
 " Ho, Master Fitzwarren !" cried Cobbs, " I am right glad to 
 behold you. I would a moment's audience, an it like you." 
 
 " Surely," replied the other; and, nodding to Master Simon 
 and the Jew, he followed Cobbs down the hatchway. 
 
 " I will see you to-morrow night, brother Simon," said the Jew. 
 
 " It shall be as you say," cried Master Simon. 
 
 The Jew, without further remark, quitted the vessel, and dis- 
 appeared among the croAvd of merchants who had now congre- 
 gated on the shores of the Hith. 
 
 " How did this accident hap, Dickon ?" asked Master Simon. 
 
 " In sooth," replied Dick, " I hardly wiss, I was leaning over 
 the ship's side, and looking into the water, when I over-balanced 
 myself, and fell in." 
 
 " You have had a sorry breakfast." 
 
 " I have fared ill," said Dick ; " but thanks to our Lady 
 Mother and my preservers, worse happed not." 
 
 " But art not hungry, Dick?" 
 
 " No, my master. Your pottingar has killed my appetite." 
 
 " That has he not mine," said Master Simon, " and so, with 
 your grace, I will search me out some food. Ho, there !" he 
 cried, striding towards the forecastle, " Ho, master pantler! Sir 
 keeper of the ship's cupboard ! art beside thyself? Ho, there ! 
 Knowest not there be stranger guests, hungry stomachs, craving 
 nurture ?" 
 
 " Now, by Holydome and Sancte Antony," cried one of the 
 mariners, V and Sancte Dunstan to boot, who fell in love with 
 five virgins of snow, your worship speaks sooth. But our pantler 
 — the fiend snatch him ! — hath more care for his own cupboard, 
 which he fills with berre, than he hath for the cupboards of other 
 folks. You'll call a month, I ween, before he'll disclose his 
 lockers." 
 
 " Where be they, then ?" asked the citizen. " I'll disclose 'em 
 myself." 
 
 " Follow me, your worship," said the mariner, springing down 
 the fore-hatch.
 
 80 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " I'd need be a monkey to do that," said Master Simon ; 
 " natli'less, I'll make attempt." 
 
 He cautiously descended the hatch, and a few minutes after- 
 Avards returned alone, bearing a cake of dried bread, a large slice 
 of beef, and a cup of wine. He sat doAvn by the side of Dick, 
 and commenced his breakfast, which he soon dispatched. 
 
 " So you are to have the same master as myself, Dick," he 
 said, as "he was masticating the last mouthful — " you are to serve 
 Master Fitzwarren." 
 
 '' That knew I not," replied Dick, 
 
 " But so I know," rejoined the other, '' A right worshipful 
 citizen he is, I warrant you. You will have a sorry service of it 
 though, for your place will be a poor one, 
 
 " 'Twill give me bread," returned Dick, 
 
 " And plenty, too," observed Master Simon, " if you can make 
 a friend in the cook," 
 
 '■^ Gramercy !" cried Dick, " will the cook be my pantler ?" 
 
 " Aye," said Master Simon ; " and, an thou wert as old as I, 
 thou might'st fare Avell, But never mind, thou'lt have a fair 
 friend in Mistress Alice, whom I Avill move in thy behalf," 
 
 " You have my good thanks," said Dick. 
 
 '' Ugh !" shouted Master Simon, suddenly starting up, " look 
 you at yon sea-pig ! By Holydome ! he has despoiled the pant- 
 ler's stores." 
 
 Master Simon, as he spoke, pointed at the seaman who had so 
 politely guided him to the ship's lockers, which, after taking 
 what he wanted himself, he had left in his care. The man at this 
 instant staggered across the deck ; and, though quite drunk, had 
 sense enough to comprehend Master Simon's accusation. " By 
 Sancte Magdalen," he cried, " who fell in love with the seven 
 virgins of snow, an thou darest call me thief, I'll drown thee." 
 
 "Thief! thou sea-pig! thou porpoise!" cried Master Simon, 
 " I'll have thee before the Mayor : I'll have thee pilloried." 
 
 The speaker would probably have folloAved iip his threats with 
 ulterior measures, which course perhaps would have occasioned 
 bloodshed ; but before he had time to embroil himself so far, 
 Masters Fitzwarren and Cobbs ascended to the deck. The sailor 
 then became cpiite civil, and as Master Simon did not prefer any 
 charge against him, and the others did not seem to be aware of 
 the peccadillo Avhich he had perpetrated, the matter ended. 
 
 Master Fitzwarren, after looking at Dick for a moment, 
 beckoned him to approach. 
 
 " I have taken you into my service, boy," he said. " You 
 will follow me hence ; and my cook will show you your duty. 
 Master Simon," he added, turning to that individual, " you may 
 now return to the mart." 
 
 The merchant stepped ashore ; and Dick, doffing his hood to 
 Masters Cobb and Racket, followed him up the street.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTOX. 81 
 
 CHAPTER VI. THE GARRET. 
 
 DICK IS DISCOVERED IN MASTER FITZWARREn's KITCHEX, WHERE 
 HE IS ASSOCIATED WITH AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE, AND FORMS 
 A NEW ONE. HE IS LODGED IN THE GARRET, WHICH IN- 
 TRODUCES HIM TO OTHER ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 Six hours after the date of the preceding chapter — that is to say, 
 about noon, Dick Whiltington was standing in an angle of a 
 spacious and lofty apartment, in the rear of a mansion in Leaden- 
 hall street. He was not the only inmate of the room, which fact 
 the other took care he should keep in remembrance. Before, 
 however, the chronicler speaks of the cook, it may be proper to 
 say something of the kitchen. 
 
 From the angle where Dick stood ran a clean white dresser, 
 surmounted by a range of shelves, which, as well as a range on 
 the opposite side of the room, supported rows of pewter and 
 wooden platters. The dresser itself was occupied by an uncooked 
 baron of beef, a large tub of Avater, and a beaker, or spouted 
 cup, filled with vinegar. The centre of the room was taken up 
 by a long table, on which Avas the offal of a defunct goose — 
 Avhich hung from a spit before the fire — a pestle and mortar, and 
 a posuet, or small porringer. The fire Avas contained in a huge 
 and rudely-constructed grate ; and the chimney, Avhich was about 
 ten feet broad at the bottom, and abutted five or six feet from the 
 main wall, gradually narroAved as it rose. On the hearth was a 
 broad-mouthed skillet, to catch the dripping from the roasting 
 goose, a chafferer, or vessel to heat Avater, and a chafing-dish, 
 filled Avith live coals. A part of a flitch of bacon hung by the 
 side of the chimney ; and beside the bacon Avas suspended a long 
 iron spoon, a buck-handled carving knife, and a steel. A rude 
 engraving, representing '* ^Jje ^utte HSrclunc 0@atlr anH iftt 
 212IIot(eman fiolU," Avas pasted over the mantel, which Avas fur- 
 nished Avith three brass lamps, a porringer, and a skillet. 
 
 The priestess of this culinary temple stood at the table in the 
 centre, Avhere she was zealously pursuing her avocations, which, 
 hoAvcA'er, did not prcA'ent her from abusing poor Dick. She Avas 
 short and fat in person, and of a cast of countenance which Avas 
 anything but prepossessing. Her hood, Avhich spoke her a 
 widow, was black, and Avas fashioned like a dunce's cap till it 
 reached her ears, Avhere it curved off into a tippet, and fell over 
 
 G
 
 82 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 her shoulders and back. Her jerkin fitted close to lier body as 
 far as her waist, when it opened in the centre, and curving into a 
 peak on either side, fell over her hips. Her petticoat was long, 
 so long as almost to preclude walking, which absurd custom, as 
 well as the immodest tightness of the dress, was then fashion- 
 able. 
 
 Apparently, neither time nor sorrow had had much effect on 
 the constitution of Dame Williams, whom the reader will have 
 already discovered in the cook ; for though her features had as- 
 sumed a sharper aspect, her voice and temper were as disa- 
 greeable as ever. She had been railing some time at Dick, who 
 was employed furbishing some brass posuets, when, being assailed 
 by an unexpected fragrance, she turned round to the fire, and 
 found that it arose from the goose, which he had forgotten to 
 attend. 
 
 " Zooks, jackanapes !" she shouted, running towards Dick, 
 who instantly made for the other end of the table, " I'll teach you 
 to neglect your business. A malison on your pate !" she con- 
 tinued, as she found herself unable to come up with him, " will 
 you stop ?" 
 
 Dick stood at one end of the table, and the dame at the other ; 
 but directly the latter person made an advance, he made a 
 counter movement. The dame, exasperated at this contumacy, 
 chased him several times round the table ; and, being unable to 
 overtake him by this means, sprang on the table, and so arrested 
 him. 
 
 " Holidame !" she cried, as she cufied Dick about the ears, 
 " you'll run away, will you ? Gramercy ! if my poor husband 
 was here — our Lady assoil him ! — he'd tell you a different story, 
 I trow." 
 
 Dick sang out lustily while the dame was chastising him, and 
 as his cries only increased her anger, he would probably have 
 suffered more severely ; but while he was struggling to regain his 
 freedom, her arm was arrested by a third person. 
 
 " Dame ! dame !" cried the intruder, " you will kill the poor 
 boy. Nay, you shall beat him no more. Let him alone now, for 
 the love of Magdalen !" 
 
 Dick managed to escape ; and while the dame Avas grumbling 
 at the young lady's interference, he cast his eye over the person 
 of his deliverer. 
 
 She was nearly his own height, and, as far as he could judge, 
 about a year older. Her person was slender, and promised, on 
 her attaining muliebrity, perfect proportion. Her kirtle was of 
 samite, embroidered Avith yellow satin, and laced up the front 
 with silk of the same colour. In conformity with the prevailing 
 fashion, it was fitted immodestly close till far beloAV the hips, 
 wlicn it sAvcpt round in a semicircle, and revealed her long petti- 
 coat, Avhich Avas furbeloAved Avith fox skin. Her laair was combed
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 83 
 
 into a tiift of ringlets on eitlier temple, and wound into a top- 
 knot, in which she wore a white rose. 
 
 " You know, dame," she said to the cook, " my father bade 
 you be kind to the boy." 
 
 " Well, Mistress Alice," returned the viraji;o, " an he did tell 
 me to be kind to him, did he tell me to let him be neglectful ?" 
 
 " Nay 5 but he is a poor orpheline, you know," replied Mistress 
 Alice. " I have no mother myself; but he has neither father 
 nor mother." 
 
 As Mistress Alice spoke, the tears chased each other dov;n 
 Dick's cheeks. 
 
 " An you stand whimpering there," cried the dame, " I will 
 soon give you occasion. If my poor husband was here — our 
 Lady assoil him ! — he'd serve you as was his wont." 
 
 " He never beat me in his life," said Dick. " He was too, too 
 kind to me." 
 
 " What, hound !" vociferated the dame, " do'st belie the dead ? 
 Nay, an thou say'st so again, I will take thy life." 
 
 " In sooth, he shall have no further harm," said Mistress 
 Alice. " Get thee to thy work, good boy. I know not thy 
 name," she added, smiling. 
 
 " Dick Whittington, fair mistress," said Dick. 
 
 " Dick fiend !" cried the cook. 
 
 But seeing that Mistress Alice was resolute, and fearing that 
 she would make a report of her conduct to Master Fitzwarren, 
 Dame Williams repressed her Avrath. Dick resumed his avoca- 
 tions with an aching heart ; but, in order to shoAv his protectress 
 that he was worthy of her favour, laboured with increased dili- 
 gence. He could not but think, however, that his situation placed 
 him in a very unfavourable light in the eyes of Mistress Alice. 
 He was aware, though his eyes were riveted on the posuet which 
 he was furbishing, that she was scrutinizing his appearance, and 
 he blushed, though, had he been asked wherefore, he could not 
 have told. He Avas angry with himself. The only female who 
 had ever shoAvn him kindness had seen him weep — weep for a 
 blow. Dick Avas only a boy, but they are mistaken who think 
 that a young heart is not alive to shame, for his face burned. 
 Mistress Alice observed his confusion, and, thinking that it was 
 occasioned by her presence, quitted the kitchen. As Dick ob- 
 served her retire, his feelings effused themselves in a flood of 
 tears. 
 
 He saw before him a long course of suffering, mortification, 
 and unhappiness ; and, Avhich afflicted him more, there was not 
 one person from whom he could ask coimsel. Master Cobbs, 
 Avho had saved his life, he sincerely loved ; but there Avas some- 
 thmrr about him — somethino; Avhicli Dick could not fathom — that 
 forbade any advances toAvards familiarity. Master Simon Racket, 
 indeed, Avas familiar enough ; but then, thought Dick, he is a
 
 84 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 stranger, and a stranger might doubt my word. But Williams, 
 where was he ? Dick asked himself the question, and his tears 
 flowed on. 
 
 The course of his reflection, however, was now interrupted by 
 the cook, who, thinking herself secure from a second intrusion of 
 Mistress Alice, began to renew her abuse. Dick, by calling to 
 mind all the kindness which he had received from her husband, 
 endeavoured to suppress the indignation which her taunts ex- 
 cited ; but, though he succeeded for a time, he was unable to 
 continue silent. 
 
 " So," cried the cook, after a momentary pause, " I'm to be 
 pesteied with you for ever, you bastard." 
 
 *' That am I not," said Dick, " Master Williams often told me 
 I was loyally born." 
 
 " Thou liest, malapert !" vociferated the dame. " An you dare 
 contradict me again, this skillet shall batter your pate." 
 
 " I wish not to oftend," said Dick ; " but an you slander my 
 dead mother — Jesu help her ! — I Avill give you the lie." 
 
 "Thou wilt, wilt thou?" shouted the dame, "then take thou 
 that !" and she threw the vessel of boiling water at his head. 
 
 Dick stooped to avoid the hissing missile, and caught it on his 
 arm, which Avas severely scalded. He screamed Avith pain ; and 
 a moment aftei'Avards Mistress Alice entered the kitchen. The 
 cook Avas taken by surprise ; but, with that cunning Avhich is 
 generally possessed by cruel and vulgar minds, she readily con- 
 trived an expedient. 
 
 " Oh dear !" she cried, AA'hen she saw Mistress Alice, " Avhat 
 hath happened thee, boy ? Dickon, gaffer, art scalded ?" 
 
 " Ay, am I," said Dick, taking off' his gaberdine. 
 
 " What, don't you Aveep, Dick?" asked Mistress Alice, amazed 
 at his fortitude. 
 
 " No, fair mistress," replied Dick, "not AAdiile you look on." 
 
 " My matroncy to a moidore," said the cook, " but I will cure 
 you in a minute !" and taking up a salt stand, she emptied its 
 contents on the scalded flesh. 
 
 " In sooth, you Avill kill him !" screamed Mistress Alice. As 
 she spoke she caught Dick's arm and plunged it in the tub of 
 Avater Avhich stood on the dresser. 
 
 Dick felt the pain assuaged immediately. Some cold cream, 
 which Mistress Alice afterAvards applied, completely Avithdrew the 
 fire, and Dick's arm Avas soon convalescent. He did not tell the 
 young lady how he had been scalded; and his silence on this 
 point induced the dame to treat him less harshly during the day, 
 Avhich presented no further matter for the pen of the chronicler. 
 
 Dick Avaitcd in his corner in the kitchen, unmolested by the 
 dame, for several hours after sunset, in the expectation that 
 Master Simon AA'ould call to see him ; liut at length, Avhen he 
 gave up all hope of that person coming, and the clock'struck the
 
 DICK AVIIITTINGTOX. 85 
 
 ninth Iiour afternoon, he ascended to the garret Avhich was as- 
 signed him as a dormitory. 
 
 This apartment was small in compass, and, except a stretcher 
 and blankets, contained no article of furniture. Dick glanced 
 once round it ; and having said a Paternoster, and repeated two 
 Aves for the soul of his mother, and one Ave for the souls of all 
 Christian people, he threw himself on the stretcher. 
 
 But he could not sleep. The events of the past day had been 
 so painfid, and foretold, he thought, such a succession of ills, that 
 he could not banish the recollection of them. And then, if for a 
 moment he stifled these sad reminiscences, was there not Mistress 
 Alice ? What a fair creature ! What lovely blue eyes she had ! 
 And surely, if there be one thing pre-eminently beautiful in God's 
 creation, the choicest beauty is the blue eye of woman. In youth 
 it will laugh, and shed joy over a desolate hearth, and bring a 
 flush to a sad face. In age it retains its lustre ; it reminds the 
 beholder that the withered cheek below Avas once compared to the 
 rose, and the shrinkled lips to richest coral. 
 
 Then Dick's thoughts reverted from Mistress Alice to his 
 mother ; and his cheek burned as he recollected the cook's im- 
 peachment of her continence. At length, worn out both in body 
 and mind, he fell asleep ; but his slumber, as his occasional 
 starting evinced, Avas not refreshing. 
 
 Dick awoke trembling. He had been dreaming of the dead ; 
 of siirouds, sepulchres and cofiins, of Avhite-headed monks and 
 grisly corses. He listened — the convent bell was tolling for a 
 departed soul. He had the aaIioIc scene before him. The friars, 
 clothed in Avhite, AA'ith their coavIs draAvn doAvn, and their lustrous 
 eyes glaring from two small holes : hoAv solemnly they marched 
 up the dark aisles, Avhich mocked the light of their tall tapers ! 
 He looked at the high altar, Avhere the stoled priest Avas standing. 
 As that solemn song, De p?-ofiindis, rose from the mourners, the 
 priest drcAv back the pall, and shoAved the ghastly face of the 
 corpse 
 
 But there Avas certainly something in the room. Tramp, 
 tramp — it approached his bed. Tramp, tramp — surely a dozen 
 feet must be treading the floor. 
 
 The icy perspiration poured in streams doAAii Dick's forehead. 
 He heard a distinct ticking in his ear, and, if he had been so 
 minded, could have reckoned the pulsation of his heart. He 
 covered his head AA'ith the blanket, Avhich he drcAv close to his 
 ears ; but there was the footstep still — tramp, tramp. Dick kncAV 
 that it Avas beside the bed — nay, he felt something like the fingers 
 of a hand moA^iiig OA^er his body. Despair, hoAVCA^er passiA'^e, 
 could endure this no longer ; and, spi'inging from the bed, Dick 
 pronounced that name Avhich both the quick and the dead must 
 obey. 
 
 What a scream ! The tjarret icasJnU of rat.<.
 
 86 TUE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER VII. THE CAT. 
 
 DICK PURCHASES A CAT HE GOES ON AN EXPEDITION WITH TWO 
 
 FRIENDS, AND THEREBY SUSTAINS MUCH INCONVENIENCE. 
 
 Morning came at last. Dick had had but little rest during the 
 intermediate time, and when the clock tolled the fourth hour, he 
 did not rise with his usual alacrity. Having, however, jumped 
 on the floor, and looked forth on the bright morning, he donned 
 his clothes with more cheerfulness, though, as he glanced at the 
 gable roof of his garret, and detected the holes by which the rats 
 found ingress, his gaiety subsided. 
 
 " I wish I had a cat," he said, aloud. 
 
 He hurried through his toilet, and then descended to the kitchen. 
 Here he kindled the fire, scoured the table and dresser, brushed 
 his master's buskins — for being a staid citizen, Master Fitzwarren 
 had not yet adopted the shoes called crackowes — and performed 
 the other duties which his tenure of office enjoined. As he was 
 anxiously awaiting the descent of the cook, whom he hoped to 
 please by his diligence, the door of the kitchen was thrown open, 
 and Mistress Alice entered. 
 
 " Will you do me an errand, Dick ?" she asked. 
 
 *' Right speedily, an' please you, fair mistress," replied Dick. 
 
 " Then take you this vial to the Minories," said Mistress Alice, 
 " and bring me some holy water from the chapel. Here," she 
 added, holding out a penny, "the priest can give this in alms." 
 
 Dick took the vial and the penny, and, donning his hood, made 
 his way into the street. He soon reached Aldgate, and turning 
 into the thoroughfare who derived its name of Minories from a 
 convent of nuns, which had been established there under the 
 aus])iccs of the lovely Queen Maude, he hastened to the chapel. 
 
 When he entered this edifice, Dick knelt down by the door, and, 
 crossing himself, repeated a Pater noster. He then stepped for- 
 wards to a priest, who was standing in the chancel, and requested 
 permission to fill his vial, which permission was immediately 
 granted. 
 
 " I have further business with you, holy father," he said, as he 
 placed the vial, which he had filled, in his bosom. " My mistress 
 sent a penny to be given in alms." 
 
 "Thou art honest, my son," said the clergyman, taking the 
 penny. " Kneel thou down now, and let me hear thy shrift."
 
 w
 
 'J^fanM/^r'- XiSu^e,^ 
 
 S, cH"- 

 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 87 
 
 Dick detailed his sins with great exactness, except that he 
 touched as lightly as possible on the affray with the priest of 
 Highgate, and enlarged on the horrors of his subsequent imprison- 
 ment, which seemed to conciliate his auditor. The latter, having 
 enjoined him to say two ^1 yes every night, absolved him, and bade 
 him beware of mixing with heretics thenceforward. 
 
 " And now, my son," he said, returning Dick the penny which 
 he had given him, " because thou art honest, and neglectest not 
 thy soul's weal, liere is the penny for thyself. The intention of thy 
 mistress — our Lady bless her — shall not be discarded, for I will 
 give a penny to the poor in place of it." 
 
 Dick's heart was too full to speak. " JBenediclte, my son!" said 
 the priest, and, before Dick could reply, he disappeared. 
 
 Dick quitted the chapel, and proceeded up the Minories. Just 
 as he reached Aldgate, he observed an old Avoman Avith a basket, 
 sitting in the middle way; and, thinking that she might have 
 some fruit for sale, he accosted her. 
 
 "I vend not fruit, gossip," replied the old woman; "but say, 
 what wilt give me for my commodities?" 
 
 "I have only a penny," said Dick, who felt an irresistible in- 
 clination to get rid of his wealth. 
 
 " A penny!" cried the woman; " and would' st have this lovely 
 cat for a penny?" As she spoke, she opened her basket, and 
 Dick's ravished eyes beheld a beautiful black cat. 
 
 " Well, do'st like her looks ?" she cried, perceiving Dick's ecstasy. 
 
 " Ay, do I, mother," returned Dick, " right well. I Avould 
 she were mine." 
 
 " I'll Avar rant me thou'rt a chapman," said the Avoman. "Thou'lt 
 chaffer Avitli me about the price, and swear me in sooth, and all 
 the maiden oaths that be, that thou hast only a penny." 
 
 " In sooth, I have no more," replied Dick. 
 
 " Gramercy!" cried the old woman, "I Avissed right surely you 
 would sAvear me in sooth. But come, you shall have her for tAvo 
 pennies." 
 
 " Nay," said Dick, colouring Avith indignation, "and you doubt 
 my troth, I'll no more Avith you." 
 
 " Holidame!" rejoined the other, "thou'rt a lad of spirit. Here, 
 give me thy penny, and take thou the cat." 
 
 Dick eagerly completed the purchase, and, holding puss to his 
 bosom, hastened homcAvards. 
 
 On reaching his master's house he posted up to his garret, and 
 deposited his cat under the stretcher. He then sought Mistress 
 Alice, and having given her the holy Avater, he descended to the 
 kitchen. Here he found the cook, who, with her usual arrogance, 
 threatened to chastise him for absenting himself without her per- 
 mission; but she Avas prevented from executing her threat, and at 
 the same time induced to suppress her abuse, by the entrance of 
 Master Simon Racket.
 
 88 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " Dick, my gaffer, my right trusty Dickon," exclaimed Master 
 Simon, " give me thy hand, my roysterer, my twin brother." 
 
 "How fare you. Master Simon?" cried Dick, grasping his 
 hand. 
 
 Master Simon made no reply, but turning to the dame, who 
 looked on in astonishment, addressed her. 
 
 " Now, cook, thou purveyor of belly-timber, thou queen of 
 kitchens," he said, " look you, thou hast a most fair countenance." 
 
 Dame Williams smiled as sweetly as she could. " An I believe 
 all the gallants that tell me so," she replied, " I need be as vain 
 as a peacock." 
 
 " Trust me, thou would'st not," returned Master Simon, archly. 
 "But, to speak your favour, wilt spare this young gallant in the 
 evening?" 
 
 " Ay, to company with you, fair sir," rejoined the dame. *' I 
 would not that he should sort Avith a pack of galliards or night- 
 brawlers : but I trow he Avill meet no mischief when sortinc with 
 you. 
 
 "That can he not," said Master Simon; "so, this settled, I will 
 bid thee good morrow, fair dame. And thee too, Dick," he added, 
 shaking the latter person by the hand. 
 
 When Master Simon quitted the kitchen, the dame began to 
 criticise his appearance, which, she said, reminded her of that of 
 her poor deceased husband. Dick Avas at a loss to compreliend 
 hoAV she arrived at this conclusion, but he did not attempt to con- 
 trovert it, particularly as Master Simon's praise of her complexion 
 had made the dame rather affable. He listened, therefore, to her 
 commendations of Williams, and Avhere he could conscientiously 
 do so, Avhich was only when she spoke of his virtues, coi-i'oboi'ated 
 her assertions. This restrained her from abusing h'.m throughout 
 the day ; and as he had not attained that age when every insult is 
 stored up in the mind, and possessed a temper which forgot ill 
 usage when kindness Avas manifested, he began to hope that an 
 affection might yet spring up betAveen them. Indulging in this 
 and similar thoughts, which rendered his irksome duties less dis- 
 agi-eeable, he Avaitcd patiently for the hour of vespers, when 
 Master Simon summoned him forth. 
 
 The two friends walked along in silence till they reached Gra- 
 cious, noAv Gracechurch, street. Here, pushing his elboAV against 
 Dick's side. Master Simon called his attention to the Duke of 
 Lancaster's scutcheon, Avhich, as has been before stated, Avas here 
 exposed to public insult. 
 
 " That," he said, in a Avhisper, " shall be revenged to-night." 
 " What mean you?" asked Dick. 
 
 " Wilt join us, Dickon?" said Master Simon, smiling. " Thou 
 wilt, I Avarrnut me," he added, as Dick continued silent. " We 
 will have Master Salmon, the Jcav mediciner; and, by our fair 
 city ! there Avill be most choice sport. Bethink thee noAv, 'tis
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 89 
 
 for the honour of the guild, and, what may move thee more, for 
 our own contentation." 
 
 " In sooth," cried Dick, laughing, " the dame has been deceived 
 in thee. Thou would'st even make me a night-brawler." 
 
 But as Dick was nothing more than a boy, and boys, if they 
 expect to derive sport therefrom, are easily moved to mischief, he 
 was at last persuaded to join in Master Simon's project. This, as 
 they proceeded towards the Jew's habitation, Master Simon in 
 part disclosed to him, and though it somewhat shocked his notions 
 of decorum, he had not the courage to decline abetting it. 
 
 The Jew's house was without Aldgate, on the road which led 
 to the hospital of St Katherine. It was one of a row of detached 
 houses, but unlike the others, which were all occupied by Jews, 
 it wore a dark and uninviting aspect. The garden ground, which 
 surrounded the domicile, was covered with weeds, save where a 
 footway, leading from the wicket to the door, afforded no counte- 
 nance to vegetation. The shutters in the front of the house, which 
 was two stories high, were all closed, and the door was destitute of 
 both clicket and latch. 
 
 Master Simon kicked against the door for some minutes with- 
 out attracting any notice from the proprietor. At length, when 
 he paused to join in Dick's laugh, a voice hailed them from 
 within. 
 
 " Who knocks at the pottingar's door?" 
 
 ^' I cry you mercy. Sir Pottingar," said Master Simon, in a 
 feigned voice. '^ I have heard many marvels concerning you, and 
 wish to appi'ove your cimningness. I prithee, an it be to your 
 liking, you will presently admit me, and you shall thereupon be 
 advertised of my business." 
 
 " An you be a staid burgher," replied the voice, " you shall 
 have admittance straightway ; but an you be that roystering galli- 
 ard and night-walker, hight Simon Racket, you had best remove 
 yourself." 
 
 Master Simon turned round to Dick, Avho was laughing with 
 undue energy, and joined in his merriment. They were inter- 
 rupted, however, by the opening of the door, and, being so bidden 
 by the Jew, they entered the house. 
 
 The passage and staircase which was here revealed to them, 
 and with w4iich Master Simon seemed to be well acquainted, 
 were of a piece with the froAvning front of the exterior ; but on 
 ascending the stair, and following the Jew into an apartment at 
 its summit, a different scene presented itself. 
 
 This room was circular, and, though there were no windows in 
 the wall, was amply illuminated by a round skylight, which arose 
 from the roof. The Avail and ceiling Avere furnished with tissue, 
 being in the fashion of a tent, and radiating from the edge of the 
 skylight. In the centre of the room, beneath the skylight, Avas a 
 table of massy oak, Avhich, as Avell as the floor, Avas strewn Avith
 
 90 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 curiously-inscribed papers. A rude telescope, with its end turned 
 upwards, also stood on the table ; and hence the Jew was reputed 
 a maij^ician — a name which, as it made him dreaded alike by 
 the powerful and impotent, he did not disown. Raised hassocks, 
 or, rather, enormous cushions, supplied the place of chairs, and 
 the floor was carpeted with cloth of tissue. 
 
 Dick was amazed at the costliness of the furniture, and much 
 more so at the cabalistic characters inscribed on the scattered 
 papers, which he supposed to be spells. With this impression on 
 his mind, he doffed his hood, and, ejaculating the necessary words, 
 crossed himself. Master Simon reproved him for his superstition, 
 but, before Dick could reply, the Jew interposed. Drawing Dick 
 toAvards the table, he took up a manuscript in the old English 
 character, and asked him if he could read it. 
 
 " Nay, fair sir," replied Dick, " that can I not." 
 
 " And yet," said the Jew, " 'tis no glamour, but thine own 
 tongue. Say, would'st thou be taught to read it?" 
 
 "Right gladly, good sir," rejoined Dick. 
 
 '■'■ Then my daughter, who is of thine own age, shall teach thee 
 straight," returned the Jew. " Come, whenever thou canst, at 
 this hour, and thou shalt be admitted. Wilt begin this eve?" 
 
 " An it so please your worship," replied Dick. 
 
 " Miriam !" cried the Jew. 
 
 A fold in the tapestry was drawn aside, and a tall and lovely 
 girl, apparently about the same age as Dick, glided into the room. 
 She smiled at her father, and then crossed to Master Simon, and 
 inquired after his health. 
 
 " My daugliter," said the Jew, as he met the glance of her dark 
 eyes, "here is a pupil for you. You must instruct him, as well 
 you can, in the craft of a clerk." 
 
 Miriam smiled, and so sweetly, that, as he gazed on her dark 
 eyes and face, Dick thought her as lovely as Alice. Her hair 
 was not raven, but it Avas still more beautifully black, and fell 
 down her neck till it nearly reached the waist. Her eyes were 
 dazzling, and their dark flash showed to advantage beneath her 
 spotless forehead. Her eyebrows Avere slight and arched, and 
 her complexion olive, which colour, next to the mingled rose and 
 lily, is certainly the most beautiful. She wore a loose frock of 
 sarcenet, Avhicli descended very little beloAV her knees ; AvideAvhite 
 troAvsers, draAvn in at tlic ankle ; and slippers of AA'hitc satin. Her 
 anns were covered Avith Avhite crape, Avhich hung loose till it 
 reached the Avrist, Avhere it Avas fastened Avith a bracelet of gold. 
 She drcAv a cushion toAvards the table, and, l)idding Dick sit 
 doAvn, she l)egan the task of an instructress. Master Simon and 
 the JcAv, thus safe from Dick's observation, opened a small box 
 whicli lay on the flooi", and took thence the corse of a dog, AA-hich 
 they arrayed in a j)riest's surplice. They then wrap})ed it in a 
 kerchief, and, sitting «loAvn before it, conversed in Avhispers.
 
 DICK WniTTINOTOX. 91 
 
 " 'Twas wron^ in you to bring him, brother Simon," said the 
 Jew. " If evil tall, his hurts will be on our hands." 
 
 " I tell you, Sir Mediciner, evil cannot fall," replied Master 
 Simon. ^' There will be no affray, because, before we begin, we 
 will take note that the watch be not about. And I pray you, if I 
 brought him not, who was to climb the wall ? " 
 
 " That could not I," returned the Jew. 
 
 "And credit me," said Master Simon, "that could not I. 
 Where bide your reasons, then. Sir Pottingar?" 
 
 " Hark you," replied the Jew, " they will bide in yon scimetar 
 to-night. An any of your watch give us molestation, I will bring 
 oti'the boy scatliless, or, by the Holy Temple! I will see to it." 
 
 "Wherefore not?" said Master Simon. "Believe my troth, 
 an you lend me your rapier, I will make brave fight with you." 
 
 It had now become too dark for Dick to pursue his studies ; 
 but as he still remained by the side of Miriam, with Avhom he 
 engaged in conversation, the Jew and Master Simon continued 
 their dialogue. They spoke, however, in so low a tone, that their 
 discourse could not be overheard by the others, nor was it of suf- 
 ficient importance to merit insertion here. At length, when it 
 became so dark that Miriam was obliged to ignite a taper, the 
 Jew and Master Simon rose, and, arming themselves as they had 
 previously arranged, they consigned the bundle to the care of 
 Dick. They then took leave of Miriam, and, with Dick in com- 
 pany, quitted the house. 
 
 " We had best not be seen together, brother Simon," said the 
 Jew. " Pass 3^ou on through the postern, and we will make after 
 
 you." 
 
 Master Simon, accordingly, hastened his steps, and before Dick 
 and the mediciner reached Aldgate, he was out of sight. 
 
 A watchman was standing in the postern-way, where he was 
 stationed for the purpose of searching all suspicioiis-looking per- 
 sons, as in compliance with a petition, signed by the mayor and 
 alderman, which had recently been presented to the king, com- 
 plaining that foreign wares were smuggled into the city, and, to 
 the manifest prejudice of the commonweal, sold at a cheaper rate 
 than the same articles could be produced by the home manufac- 
 turer, the king had ordered a strict watch to be maintained at the 
 city gates, with a view of bringing the parties offending to justice. 
 The Jew had forgotten this regulation, till, on reaching the gate, 
 the person of the watchman recalled it to his memory. It was then 
 too late to turn back, which would only have excited suspicion, 
 and though he could have concealed the bundle under his gown, 
 he could not take it from Dick without being observed. In this 
 dilemma he determined to proceed Avith a bold face. 
 
 The Jew, indeed, was a stranger to fear. His heart, though 
 endued with the softest feelings of nature, had never cowered be- 
 neath the iron rod to M'hich his faith subjected him. He hated
 
 92 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 the creed of Rome, because, for several centuries, it had held up 
 his nation to the scorn of Christendom, but he neither hated nor 
 feared its professors. He saAv, that as knowledge diffused itself, 
 the doctrine of Wickliffe, or something resembling it, would be 
 generally adopted ; and he felt assured, that when liberty of con- 
 science was extended to Christians, it could no longer be withheld 
 from his own brethren. With this prospect before him, and per- 
 haps incited further by jirejudice, he seized every opportunity of 
 ridiculing the priesthood, foreseeing, that if they were divested of 
 the awful attributes which they arrogated to themselves, or if their 
 pretensions were once questioned, they would soon fall into con- 
 tempt. But, sensible of the punishment to which he would other- 
 wise lay himself open, he had hitherto proceeded Avith the most 
 vigilant circumspection ; and even now, when detection seemed 
 inevitable, and the stake and gallows rose before him, his presence 
 of mind remained unshaken. 
 
 " What ails you, gaffer?" he asked of the watchman, as the 
 latter, seizing Dick by the arm, commanded him to open the 
 bundle. 
 
 *' Nothing your craft can heal, Sir Pottingar," replied the 
 watchman. 
 
 " Nay, how knowest thou that?" said the Jew, laying his 
 brawny hand on the watchman's arm. 
 
 The watchman shrank back in terror, and, hastily crossed him- 
 self. "Would'stlay a spell on me, Sir Jew?" he cried. " Would'st 
 fraud the king's highness of his customs ? Would'st maltreat 
 me?" 
 
 Dick, though he did not exactly comprehend wherefore, saw 
 that the Jew had no desire to have the bundle examined ; and he 
 therefore made up his mind that, if an opportunity occurred, it 
 would be advisable to take to flight. Accordingly, while the Jew 
 and the watchman were in parley, he dodged under the ai'm of 
 the latter, and dashed up the street. The watchman, after giving 
 one shout to alarm his colleagues, started after him ; and the Jew, 
 when two other Avatchmen issued from the interior, pointed out 
 the fugitive. As they did not suspect the Jcav to be concerned, 
 they did not offer to detain him ; and, while they joined in the 
 pursuit, he contrived to remove himself beyond their reach. 
 
 Dick did not keep his way steadily up the street. He diverged 
 into a narroAV court, Avhicli led him into another, and thence, turn- 
 ing into a passage that ojjencd into the main street, he again came 
 in sight of his pursuers. He was a long Avay a-head, hoAvever ; 
 and, as there Avas no one in the street to intercept him, met Avith 
 no inten-uption. On reaching Cornhill, which was then a market 
 for the sale of corn, he thi-ew himself under an empty waggon 
 which stood in flie area, and remained there till his pursuers had 
 passed. He then started lor Gracious street, the place Avhere the 
 duke's arms Avcrc exposed, and took care to run backAvards from
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 93 
 
 a vicinity which he had not any desire to visit. This was "the 
 faire conduite of sweete water, castellated in the midst of that warde 
 and streete. It was first builded of stone, in the yeere 1282, by 
 Henry Wallis, Maiore of London, to be a prison for night-walkers, 
 and other suspitioiis persons ; and was called the Tunne upon 
 Cornehill, because the same was builded somewhat in the fashion 
 of a Tunne, standing on one end." 
 
 In a short time, though he made a considerable detour, Dick 
 reached Gracious street, where he found his two confederates. 
 Even the stern features of the Jew, as Dick related the particulars 
 of the chase, relaxed into a smile ; and Master Simon laughed 
 long and loud. When he had finished the relation, Master Simon 
 lifted him up to the Jew's shoulders, whence he clambered to the 
 summit of the wall. He crept along to a spot which they speci- 
 fied, and which was immediately above the duke's scutcheon ; 
 and, bending over the wall, caught a cord which Master Simon 
 threw to him. As it was quite dark, for the moon had not yet 
 risen, Dick could only see that there was something white at the 
 end of the cord, or, had he known what dangled therefrom, he 
 would not have grappled it with such avidity. He had just driven 
 in a nail which Master Simon had given him for that purpose, 
 and secured the end of the cord thereto, when a casement of the 
 opposite house was throAvn open, and a human head 23rotruded 
 itself. 
 
 " By the fair city, my roysterers ! " cried this interloper, "an 
 ye make not dispatch, ye will see the Tunne before morning." 
 
 The head was withdrawn and the casement slammed to. Both 
 Master Simon and the Jew, who just before were congratulating 
 themselves on their success, were greatly disconcerted by this 
 interruption. 
 
 " Haste thee, Dickon," cried the mercer. " Let down thy feet 
 on Master Salmon's shoidders, and we will make our way good 
 yet." 
 
 But Dick, with the view of facilitating their retreat, sprang at 
 once to the ground. He fell prostrate on reaching it, and, on 
 raising him up, the Jew discovered that he had sprained his 
 ankle. 
 
 " Place him upon my back," said Master Simon. 
 
 The Jew attempted to lift him up, but, before he could raise 
 him, three armed men rushed from the opposite house, and he 
 and Master Simon stood on their defence.
 
 94 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. THE CAVALIER. 
 
 UNFOLDS WHAT FURTHER BEFEL IN GRACIOUS STREET, AND WHAT 
 HAPPENED DICK AFTER. 
 
 " Gramercy, my masters!" cried one who carried an ignited 
 torcli, and who was tlie foremost and leader of the intruders, " here 
 have we your Lancastrians and your heretics disturbing God's 
 peace and the king's at midnight." 
 
 " And mocking at Holy Church, too," said one of his felloAvs. 
 
 " By the mass!" added the third, "it shall go hard with them." 
 
 " Oti' with ye, ye Roman curs !" cried Master Simon, striking 
 at the last speaker with his rapier. 
 
 " Ye shall eat yon dead dog before ye go," said the leader of 
 the Romanists. 
 
 " And ye be for a brawl, good citizens," cried the Jew, who 
 seemed to maintain his usual evenness of temper, " I will be one 
 with yc." 
 
 The medicincr, suiting his conduct to this declaration, immedi- 
 ately assailed the most formidable of the Romanists, and knocked 
 the torch out of his hand ; and Master Simon, though, as he after- 
 wards alhrmod, he had not much knowledge of his weapon, man- 
 fully su])]iorted his friend by attacking the other two. Dick, who 
 was now aware that the dead dog wdiich he had suspended from 
 the top of the Avail, and which the flambeau borne by the enemy 
 had revealed to him, was dressed in the surplice of the ])riesthood, 
 determined to cut it down, as he thought that, if this were done, 
 he Avould not only atone for the offence which he had unwittingly 
 committed, but also pacify the enraged Romanists. He was not 
 able, however, to effect this object, for having with great pain 
 raised himself to his feet, he found that the patibulary animal Avas 
 considerably above his reach. He therefore resumed his seat on 
 tlie ground, and, having repeated two or three Aves, waited the 
 issu(! of the combat. 
 
 The Romanists, so far as Dick could judge, seemed likely to 
 come off second best. The Jcav had already disarmed their leader, 
 who lay groaning and bleeding on the groimd, and the numerical 
 force of the combatants was therefore equal. The clashing of 
 their weapons, hoMcver, began to arouse the adjacent denizens ; 
 and ca^ciiiciit after casement was ihrownopen, and head after head 
 protruded, to iii(|uire the meaning of such an uproar. 
 
 " Help for our Lady and the fair citv !" cried the Romanists.
 
 DICK WIIITTINGTON. 95 
 
 "God for Lancaster !" shouted the Jew. 
 
 As the last war-cry was uttered, the Jew struck down his an- 
 tagonist. 
 
 "Ho! watch there!" vociferated the spectators. "Watch! 
 Watch there ! " 
 
 Three watchmen were seen coming at full speed down the 
 street ; and Master Simon and the Jew, as they disarmed the last 
 of their opponents, determined to retreat in the opposite direction. 
 A loud shout, however, warned them therefrom ; and, while they 
 hesitated which course to take, a young cavalier and his attendant, 
 grasping their naked weapons in their hands, dashed up the street. 
 
 "Lancaster! Lancaster! Who cries for Lancaster?" said the 
 cavalier. 
 
 " That do we. Master Henry," replid the JeM% "Ah, Hubert!" 
 he added, slapping the back of the cavalier's attendant with the 
 fiat part of his sword, "is it for Lancaster?" 
 
 " Death for Lancaster ! " shouted his trio of followers ; and the 
 \vatchmen, having looked on them for a moment, turned on their 
 heels, and ran away. 
 
 " There will be help here anon," said the Jew, "so take thou up 
 the boy. Sir Racket, and we will homewards." 
 
 " And we will back to our watch at the Tower Real," said the 
 cavalier to Hubert. 
 
 " Is the baron with the dame to-night, then ? " asked the Jew. 
 
 " She hath a great revel," replied the cavalier ; " and, if he be 
 not there, his plot must have failed." 
 
 " He is there," said the mediciner ; "but, not the less, his plot 
 will fail. Mark me ! The ship is ready for sea, and, if Sir Alfred 
 leave not the dame's bower till morn, it must sail speedily." 
 
 " That must it," replied the cavalier, "and, as we must to our 
 watch, I bid good betide ye." 
 
 " Nay, one word more," whispered the Jew. "Saw you the 
 earl's daughter to-night ? " 
 
 If the least glimpse of light had prevailed, the colour which 
 mounted to the cavalier's face would have been visible to the 
 whole party ; but as it was not so ordained, and the shades of 
 night completely obscured his floridity, the Jew only was sensible 
 of his confusion. 
 
 " What boots it to thee, Sir Jew ? " he muttered. 
 
 But the Jew had turned away; and having placed Dick on 
 Master Simon's back, and bade the cavalier and Hubert " God 
 speed," he proceeded with Master Simon and Dick towards Lead- 
 enhall street. 
 
 Just, however, as they reached Long-Bourne — a streamlet 
 which is noAV covered over, and which gives name to the ward of 
 Langbourne — they heard the voices of a party appi'oaching ; and, 
 on turning the angle of Gracious street, they were confronted by 
 several Avatchmen. The Jew and Master Simon immediately
 
 96 fllE LIFE ANB TIMES OF 
 
 took to tlieir heels, and, though the watchmen were taken by sur- 
 prise, were as speedily pursued. 
 
 " Follow me!" cried the medieiner to Master Simon. 
 
 And, as well as he could. Master Simon did follow. He could, 
 indeed, have been easily overtaken by the watch, but those func- 
 tionaries seemed to be stricken with some sudden panic, for before 
 any vigorous measures Avere taken to arrest their steps, the Jew 
 and Master Simon had darted into a dark court. They had 
 scarcely entered, however, when the watch came up, and, pausing 
 at the entrance, conferred on the advisability of proceeding further. 
 
 " Our Lady be about us!" said one, "for I Aveen that one of 
 them is the devil." 
 
 " Zooks, Sir Headborough ! " stammered another, who appeared 
 to be dreadfully alarmed at the possibility of such a contingency, 
 " shall I go bring a priest ?" 
 
 " I'll swear you I saw his tail," cried a third, " though he wears 
 a long black gown to hide it. And the other one carries two 
 heads on his back. I saw 'em dodging about." 
 
 " By Sancte George !" said the headborough, " the place 
 smells strongly of sulphur. 'Twould be madness to enter the 
 dark court without a torch, for who knows but Satan may pass 
 out in the shape of a black cat?" 
 
 " Ay, or trip us up in the disguise of a Avisp of straw ?" ob- 
 served another. 
 
 " I will back to the Tun," rejoined the headborough, " and get 
 us some torches. We will then enter in a body." 
 
 But this proceeding would not be tolerated by any of the party. 
 Each individual protested that he was the greatest sinner in the 
 Avorld ; and that, being so, and being, moreover, unacquainted 
 Avith the Latin tongue — Avhich, in their opinion, Avas the only 
 orthodox protection against Satan — he was the person best quali- 
 fied to go for the torches. The headborough, therefore, was 
 oldiged to march the Avhole of them back with him ; and not a 
 few of them hoped that, before they returned, the devil Avould 
 escape. 
 
 Without speaking a single Avord, Avithout indulging in one 
 solitary smile, or displaying any other indication of pleasure or 
 satisfaction, without so much as intimating his wishes to Master 
 Simon by sign or motion of any kind, the Jcav, directly the Avatch 
 had retired, strode Ibrth from an angle of the court in Avhich he 
 had concealed himself, and emerged into the street. Master 
 Simon folloAved, and, maintaining the same silence, they hastened 
 forAvards to Leadenhall street. The merchant's housed however, 
 Avas closed ; and Master Simon, after promising to make his peace 
 with the cook in the morning, persuaded Dick to go home with 
 liim. Accordingly the matter Avas so settled; and, having 
 parted. Aviih the Jew within Aldgate, they entered Master Simon's 
 lodging.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 97 
 
 CHAPTER IX. THE CONSPIRACY. 
 
 IJJTnODUCES THE UEAPER TO THE TOWER ROYAL, ITS KITCHEN 
 
 AND ITS GARDEN RELATES HOAV DAME ALICE PERRERS AND 
 
 SIR ALFRED SINCLAIR CONSPIRED AGAINST MASTER COBBS, 
 AND HOW THE CONSPIRACY WAS DISCOVERED BY DICK 
 WHITTINGTON. 
 
 The clock struck the sixtli hour as Master Simon, followed b}- 
 Dick, presented himself at the door of Master Fitzwarren's resi- 
 dence. They were admitted by the cook, Avho, directly she beheld 
 Dick, seized him by the collar of his gaberdine, for the purpose, 
 as she afterAvards declared, of remonstrating Avith him on the 
 impropriety of absenting himself all night ; but Master Simon, 
 having first delivered him from her clutches, persuaded her to 
 overlook his misconduct. This affair being amicably settled, 
 Master Simon Avithdrew, leaving Dick and Dame Williams to 
 pursue their respective avocations. 
 
 In order to atone for his late error, Avhich the cook represented 
 as a most grievous breach of decorum, Dick laboured throughout 
 the day Avith additional diligence ; and till the hour of sunset, 
 when he had Avaded through the drudgery of his office, afforded 
 the dame no excuse for the exercise of her untiring loquacity. 
 But Avhen, at the hour aforenamed, he solicited her permission to 
 go abroad, as he was anxious to repair to the domain of the dai-k- 
 eyed Miriam, the decorous matron ansAvered him by applying a 
 cudgel across his shoulders. In this laudable pursuit she Avas 
 interrupted by the entrance of Master Simon, Avho, forgetting 
 that forbearance Avhich should ahvays be shoAvn to the tender 
 sex, hastily and indelicately seized her by the AA'aist, and thrcAV 
 her to the opposite end of the kitchen. The cry of utter amaze- 
 ment and mortification Avhich this ungallant conduct elicited 
 from the dame, who instantly, but Avith ill-directed aim, hurled a 
 porringer at Master Simon's head, brought Mistress Alice Fitz- 
 AA^irren to the kitchen ; and, though the appearance of this young 
 lady checked further hostilities, they still boi'e tOAvards each other 
 a sour and loAvering aspect. 
 
 " What for. Master Simon Racket," said Mistress Alice, Avho 
 partly guessed, from the emotion Avhicli he manifested, that Dick 
 Avas the only sufferer from the late engagement, " tell me Avhat 
 for, sir, is this unseemly riot in my father's house? And, good 
 
 H
 
 98 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 dame," she added, addressing the cook, '' how has yon poor 
 orpheline again offended you ? " 
 
 It is a beautiful thing to see the flush of excitement on a beau- 
 tiful check, and still more lovely to see it animate a lovely eye ; 
 and when such a figui-e as that of Mistress Alice, with the bosom 
 proudly swelling in the consciousness of right, presents itself 
 before you, it would be a dauntless but an immanly heart that 
 could remain unmoved. If, however, either Master Simon or 
 Dame Williams had been thus inflexible, they knew that they 
 were both subject to the authority of Mistress Alice, and that 
 they dare not transgress her orders ; and consequently, refraining 
 from further hostility to each other, they prepared to answer the 
 inquiries which she had made of them. Master Simon, pointing 
 to Dick, intimated that he was the innocent cause of the dis- 
 turbance, and explained hoAV far he had himself been concerned ; 
 and Mistress Alice seemed, by a smile which played about her 
 pretty mouth, to be no Avay displeased at his want of gallantry 
 towards the cook. The latter person, scarcely waiting the com- 
 pletion of Master Simon's story, accused him of being a night- 
 walker, in ])ursuance of which profession, she said, he had seduced 
 Dick to join him the whole of the preceding night. 
 
 " I wot right well," replied Mistress Alice, smiling at the 
 dame's impatience, " that Simon Racket, or Racketty Simon, as 
 my father designs him, is one of the wildest gallants in the city ; 
 but he would not wrong the widow or the orpheline, and so 
 Dickon can take no harm in such fair company. Away with 
 you, then," she added, turning to Dick; "and I pray God speed 
 you, and keep you in the right path." 
 
 Dick did not speak, but he bowed his thanks ; and, leaving 
 Master Simon to overtake him, set forth on his way to the 
 mediciner's abode. 
 
 Before he reached Aldgate, where he feared that he would be 
 recognised as a delinquent by the watch, he was joined by Master 
 Simon, who, calling the guardian of the gate aside, induced him 
 to overlook the offence which Dick had committed on the pre- 
 vious evening. They then proceeded to the Jew's domicile, 
 which they entered; and while Master Simon conversed apart 
 with the Jew, who received them both with a hearty welcome, 
 Dick attended to the instructions of the gentle Miriam. After 
 they had remained there about an hour, however. Master Simon 
 rose to depart ; and, as he importuned him to do so, Dick accom- 
 panied him. 
 
 " Dost know, Dickon," said Master Simon, when, after pass- 
 ing through Aldgate, they bent their steps towards Gracious 
 street — " dost know, Dickon, whither I am eoinff to lead 
 thee? 
 
 " That do I not," replied Dick. 
 
 " We arc going, then, to the Tower Real," rejoined Master
 
 DICK WHITTINQTON. 99 
 
 Simon, " where, as I have told you ah-eady, dwell Dame Alice 
 Ferrers and my bonny leman. Mistress Eleanor Price." 
 
 " I am right glad of it," returned Dick, " and thank you for 
 your courtesy, fair sir." 
 
 " Nay, but I take yon not a-wooing," said Master Simon, 
 " There is one there — a gentleman and knight — who is plotting 
 the ruin of Master Cobbs. The Jew mediciner, by some means 
 that he will not disclose, has intelligence that this person is to 
 meet Dame Alice to-night, in a place which I will advise you of. 
 There must you deposit yourself in ambuscade, and for the sake 
 of a noble friend, play the part of an eaves-dropper. AVilt under- 
 take it?" 
 
 " Right Avillingly," replied Dick. 
 
 " We will incontinently thither, then," rejoined Master Simon ; 
 and hurrying down Cornhill, they passed, by the Long-bourne, 
 into Gracious street, whence they repaired to the ToAver Royal. 
 
 Dick cast a hasty glance at the stern, rugged old edifice, that 
 had braved assaults to A\hich the Tower of London itself had 
 been obliged to yield; but Master Simon gave him no time to- 
 institute a rigid inspection, for having led him through a postern 
 in a wall of uncommon thickness, he inducted him at once to the 
 Tower kitchen. 
 
 This apartment varied little in its disposition from the same 
 room in the dwelling of Master Fitzwarren, except that, as it had 
 originally been constructed for the convenience of Royalty, every 
 arrangement was on a more extensive scale, and the windows in 
 their deep embrasures, and the roof of broad square stones, had 
 not the air of neatness «nd comfort which characterised the reti- 
 culated casements and boarded ceilings of plebeian kitchens. 
 
 Mistress Eleanor Frice, whom they observed sitting in the 
 angle most distant from the fire, was labouring at her spinning- 
 wheel when they entered the kitchen ; and, on seeing Master 
 Simon and Dick, beckoned them to a settle beside her. 
 
 " I have much to tell you," she said to Master Simon, ** but,'' 
 she added, looking at Dick, " time and place suit not." 
 
 " The boy is true as gold," said Master Simon, " but he cares 
 not to hear our converse; and so, fair Mistress, if you will guide 
 us to the garden, he can remain there, and we will return." 
 
 " So be it, then," replied Eleanor ; and gliding through a 
 narrow door and passage at the other end of the kitchen, she led 
 the way to the garden. 
 
 " You will see an arbour, Dick," whispered Master Simon, 
 " in the walk on the right-hand. Thither haste thee, and hide 
 thyself in the thick-set, for the hour of thy vigil approaches." 
 
 The passage led them out to a small parterre of grass, encircled 
 by closely-planted shrtibs, through which, while Master Simon 
 attracted Eleanor's attention elsewhere, Dick contrived to creep 
 into the outer garden. He then paused to consider which route
 
 100 THE LIFE AKD TIMES OF 
 
 he would take, and perceiving the avbour that Master Simon 
 liad specified, he instantly made for it, taking care, however, as 
 he was fearful of being discovered, to keep witliin a shrubbery 
 that stretched along on one side of the walk. He ensconced 
 liimself as close to the arbour as circnxnstances rendered prudent ; 
 and pulling his hood above his ears, so that he might catch the 
 sliiihtcst sound, awaited the coming of the conspirators. 
 
 He had been thus ambushed for about half-an-hour, and, from 
 the painful position which he was obliged to maintain, was be- 
 coming fatigued, Avhen, not without a sensation of fear, he heard 
 the fall of footsteps in the adjoining walk. These, as he perceived 
 through the bush, announced the approach of a handsome and 
 courtly cavalier, Avhose features immediately reminded him of 
 those of Master Cobbs, and who was Avalking by the side of a 
 lady of surpassing beauty. They passed close to the spot where 
 he Avas concealed, and entered the arbour ; but they conversed in 
 so loAv a. tone, that though he Avas Avithin tAVo yards of Avhere they 
 sat, he did not overhear a syllable. Determined to run some 
 hazard, and perhaps urged forAvards by an indiscreet but puerile 
 curiosity, Dick crept Avith threat circumspection from his place of 
 concealment, and craAvled along to the side of the arbour. This 
 latter, Avhich had been constructed by the martial P^dAvard in one 
 of his lighter moods, Avas almost entirely formed by trees, be- 
 tAveen Avhich Avas raised trellis Avork of Avood, supporting the 
 Avild convolvulus and gentle honeysuckle ; and consequently, if 
 Avatched by a vigilant and Avary eye, it afforded but slight screen 
 to an eaves-dropper. So softly, hoAvcA^er, did Dick move for- 
 wards, and so intent on their discourse were the persons Avithin, 
 that he attained the back of the arbour Avithout being discoA'ered ; 
 and laying himself doAvn on the ground, and raising his ear to 
 the arbour, he succeeded in OA^erhearing a part of the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " I Avas once inclined to favour liim," said the lady, " but the 
 proud traitor disdained my advances." 
 
 " I Avill be surety for him, Dame Alice," returned the cava- 
 lier, *' that your beauty, all-conquering as it is, and SAvaying, as 
 it does, the hearts of kings and princes as Avell as mine, made no 
 impression on his vulgar mind. By my knightly troth — and she 
 Avere not the mother of me — I Avould sAvcar that his dam had 
 ])layed my sire false, so near does he approach to the degree of a 
 churl." 
 
 " You might hazard such suspicion safely," replied the lady. 
 " But are you assured that avc have the fish in our net now, Sir 
 Alfred ?" 
 
 " I troAv yes," rejoined the cavalier. " I have AA^atched him 
 myself these two past days, and I cannot be mistaken. I have 
 traced him from a house in Leadenhall street, belonging to one 
 FitzAvaiien, a merchant, to a house beyond Aldgate, appertaining,
 
 DICK WHITTIXGTON. 101 
 
 as you may know, to the Jew mediciner ; but though I have en- 
 deavoured to follow him closely, and have set a good watch on 
 him, I cannot discover whither he goes thence." 
 
 " Haply, then, he may slip our toils yet?' 
 
 '• Not so," returned Sir Alfred. " [ was close in his wake 
 last night, as, muffled in a long cloak, he parted with the churl 
 Fitzwarren at Aldgate ; and I heard him appoint to-morrow 
 night, at the eighth hour, as a time for meeting at Fitzwarren's 
 house. If I had the king's Avarrant, now that the city's charter 
 is withdrawn, I could post a party of my vassals in the street, 
 and apprehend him as he emerged from the house." 
 
 " That were the duty of Sir Henry Percy, the Marshal of 
 England," replied the lady ; " but I will settle that, and thou 
 shalt have the Avarrant to-morrow. Sir Henry Ball, Avho Avas 
 truly a chiA"alrous knighl, and who had good excuse for seeking 
 home, Avas beheaded for leaving the king's standard Avithout li- 
 cence ; and Avho is this churl, Avho disdains the love of noble 
 ladies for the embrace of jicasant sluts, that he should be ab- 
 solved .' Spoke you to the Jcav mediciner concerning him ?" 
 
 " I did, noble lady," rejoined the caA'alier; " but I gleaned 
 nothing from him. I Avould be surety, before my Lord Arch- 
 bishop, that the JeAv is a damned magician, and Avould fain conceal 
 his knoAvledgc of my Avorshipful brother." 
 
 " IVoAV, so help me God!" said the lady, in a tone Avhich 
 startled the cavalier, " so villanous a tongue as thine AAOuld not 
 weigh one feather against the Jcav. What, sir, if I look to 
 gratify my OAvn passion, A\hich thy caitiff" brother hath provoked, 
 by aiding thee in this matter, and at the same time bringing to 
 justice a disloyal traitor, dost thou think, in the profundity of thy 
 policy, that 1 believe a Avord that escapes thee? The Avarrant, as 
 I have promised, thou shalt have ; but for the Jcav, look you that 
 he meets no harm." 
 
 Dick thought that he had noAV heard enough, and that it AA'ould 
 he most prudent to effect a retreat before the inmates of the ar- 
 bour retired, as, on rising, they Avould probably detect some part 
 of his person, A\hich Avas only invisible AA'hile their backs Avere 
 turned towards him. Accordingly, Avith tremulous caution, and 
 hand after hand and foot after foot, lie receded to his original 
 station, restraining even his breath, Avhich lay like a Aveight on 
 his breast, lest its natural emission should betray him. He had, 
 indeed, good cause for such fears, for if either of the occupants of 
 the arbour had altered their position, or if their attention had 
 been attracted by tlie slightest noise, he Avould certainly have 
 been discovered. H is good fortune, hoAvever, as Avell as his good 
 sense, carried him beyond peril ; and Avhen he reached the shrub- 
 bfery that had first afforded him concealment, and drcAv a long 
 deep respiration, he raised his eyes and hands to heaven in 
 speechless gratitude.
 
 103 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 After resting a moment, which sufficed him to reconnoitre, he 
 commenced liis retreat towards the Tower ; and having attained 
 the enclosed plat of grass which has been before described, and 
 atisiired himself that there was no one to overlook his movements, 
 lie crept through into the passage beyond. Thence, with reco- 
 vered firmness, he walked leisurely into the kitchen. 
 
 The party in the kitchen had been augmented during the period 
 of his absence, and, under cover of the general hilarity, he en- 
 tered without being observed. He perceived Master Simon 
 sitting by the side of Mistress Eleanor in the further angle, and 
 from the blush which overspread the face of the latter person, as 
 she plied assiduously at her spinning-wheel, Dick rightly opined 
 that his friend was prosecuting his love-suit. A third person, 
 whom Dick instantly recognised as the Robinhood of the rustic 
 Mayings, sat on an adjacent settle, and was evidently displeased 
 at the familiarity and good-feeling wdiich appeared to subsist 
 between the two lovers. By the fire-place stood a gaunt falconer, 
 who was making love to the robust cook, who, lady-like, let the 
 spit stand still while she listened to his soft jiersuasion ; and on a 
 settle by the door, between two lasses of equal j)ersonal merit, sat 
 a young archer, Avho probably belonged to the garrison. 
 
 " My sooth to a minstrel's lay,'' said one of the last-mentioned 
 damsels, " if yon steward be not listening to Mistress Eleanor's 
 converse !" 
 
 This offer of a wager, and one, too, which staked such long 
 odds, directed the attention of the whole party to the steward, 
 who, no way abashed, openly acknowledged his guilt. 
 
 " And wherefore. Sir Steward," said Master Simon, starting 
 up, " whei'efore do you presume on such incivilities V 
 
 " Come, Sir Citizen," cried the gaunt falconer, " hold thee thy 
 peace ! Bodikins ! would you raise a braAvl in the Tower Real ?" 
 " Nay," observed the cook, who, as it was natural that a lady 
 should do, considered eaves-dropping in the course of a love-suit 
 an unpardonable offence, " hold thee thy peace. Sir Falconer ! 
 I ween I have knowledge of Master Simon Racket, as a fair- 
 meaning and oi'derly citizen, and a faithful bachelor to Mistress 
 Eleanor, for two good years. So hold thee thy peace, Sir Fal- 
 coner, and you be wise ! I warrant me, now, thou would'st like 
 to force me to wed thee, even as our stewai-d would force Mistress 
 Eleanor." 
 
 The avowal of such an opinion on the part of the cook, not- 
 withstanding that it eli(!it("d a fervent protestation of innocence 
 from the falconet', occasio7uul an argum(>nt between the two young 
 damsels and tlie archer, who endeavoured, but unsuccessfully, to 
 demonstrate the sincerity of his own intentions. Being, however, 
 siieeoureil by a brave-looking page, who relieved him of one of 
 the ladies, and the whole ])arty perceiving that the falconer had 
 made up matters with the cook, he came off victorious. In the
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 103 
 
 meantime, seemingly dissatisfied at the good-humour which pre- 
 vailed, and which he had thought to overthrow, the steward 
 skulked away, and Master Simon was left in the undisturhed en- 
 joyment of Mistress Eleanor's society, 
 
 " By the mass, my rovers ! '' said the page, as the bells of the 
 neighbouring churches began a solemn chime, " it is near the 
 couver-feu. We must break up our merry-meeting, I ween." 
 
 " Let us have one song from yon citizen, then ?" cried his fair 
 partner, *' and we will bid him farewell." 
 
 " Thou speakest wisely," said the cook. " So ho, Master 
 Simon !" she added, '^ let us hear thy chirp !" 
 
 Master Simon, of course, professed his utter inability to comply 
 with this flattering request, for as he knew that all strangers must 
 withdraw from the Tower by curfew, when it was closed for the 
 night, he was anxious to pass the intervening moments in a more 
 agreeable pursuit ; but eventually, on the intercession of Mistress 
 Eleanor, he delivered himself of this rude lay : — 
 
 Of all the flow'rs that ever bloom. 
 
 Prefer me to the rose, 
 For beauty wears it as a plume 
 
 Where guile did ne'er repose ; 
 And when the morning sun doth rise, 
 And matins the foresters solemnize, 
 There are pearls on its bosom, and pearls in its eyes : 
 Then the rose of England ! the red, red rose I 
 We'll drink to the health of the bonny red rose ! 
 
 When English gallant grasps his brand. 
 
 And forth to battle goes, 
 His cap declares his native land, 
 
 For there he dons the rose. 
 Then fill, sirs, fill, sirs, to the brim. 
 Till wine gurgle over the goblet's rim. 
 Choose we this for the burden, the sum of our hymn, 
 The red rose of England ! the red, red rose ! 
 We'll drink to the health of the bonny red rose ! 
 
 The song was pronounced to be good, and the singer's ability 
 passing excellent ; and owing perhaps to the intoxication which 
 applause always produces, or, it may be, led away by the feelings 
 which poetry inspires, Master Simon so far outraged popular 
 decorum, and, at the same time, the etiquette which governs 
 matters of love, as to snatch a kiss from the lips of Mistress 
 Eleanor, who was very wrath thereat, because, as the other two 
 damsels averred, it set a bad example to their pert bachelors, who 
 immediately subjected them to the same barbarous treatment. 
 Probably the gaunt falconer, who was an eye-witness of this
 
 104 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 transaction, did not think it a sufficient Avarrant for a similar 
 assault upon the cook, or perhaps his passion, which approxi- 
 mated to cupboard love, was not so ardent as that of the other 
 lovers, for he only muttered something about the briskness of 
 young blood, which remark, instead of conciliatiag his mistress, 
 provoked her to reply, that she liked the briskness of young- 
 blood best. The other ladies, however, recovered their good- 
 humour in a moment ; and Master Simon and Dick, having taken 
 leave of them separately, sallied forth into the street. 
 
 As they proceeded towards Leaden Hall street, whither Master 
 Simon at' first proposed to accompany Dick, the latter acquainted 
 him with the particulars which he had overheard in his ambush 
 at the arbour ; and these he thought so important, that, quitting 
 Dick at the corner of Gracious street, he hastened to impart them 
 to the party concerned. Dick, in a thoughtful mood, pursued his 
 way homewards ; and now, for the first time, he began to suspect 
 the real rank of Master Cobbs ; and, from what he had overheard 
 from the Jew and the young cavalier on the preceding night, he 
 was convinced that there existed some connection between the 
 latter person and the mysterious mariner. 
 
 As he entered his employer's house, he bethought him of his 
 cat ; and descending to the kitchen, he purveyed its supper. He 
 then reported himself to Dame Williams, who commanded him 
 to go to bed, and he accordingly ascended to his garret. 
 
 Having fed his cat, which he then left at large in the room, 
 and performed his devotions, he threw himself on his hard bed ; 
 and, oppressed with the lassitude which follows a laborious day, 
 fell asleej). He Avas soon, however, awakened by a loud scream, 
 which, on turning his eyes in the direction of the noise, and seeing 
 the bright eyes of his cat glare through the darkness, he found to 
 emanate from a monstrous rat, which the guardian of his chamber 
 had just captured. Rejoicing at her efficiency, Dick turned round 
 on his other side, and before he could mutter an Ave, resumed 
 his slumbers.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 107 
 
 CHAPTER X. THE VENTURE. 
 
 HOAV DICK WHITTINGTON PARTED WITH HIS CAT HOW HE VISITED 
 
 LEADEN HALL HOW MASTER COBBS WAS AVAYLAID BY SIR 
 
 ALFRED SINCLAIR HOW THE JEAV MEDICINER BROUGHT HIM 
 
 OFF BY A STRATAGEM. 
 
 On the next evening, to the no small surprise of Dick, the hou?e 
 of Master Fitzwarren Avas the scene of unusual bustle, unusual, 
 at least, inasmuch as it Avas of rare occurrence ; for, except on the 
 eve of some momentous enterprise, all matters in his dominion, 
 whether mercantile or domestic, Avere conducted AAith monotonous 
 regularity. But the present occasion, as Dick soon discovered, 
 AA'as sufficiently out of the common course of cA'^ents to excuse the 
 excitement A\'hich prevailecf in the merchant's family. The ship 
 * Unicorn,' in which he had stOAved a valuable cargo, Avas to sail 
 at the morroAv's daAvn for the coast of Morocco, and Avith the 
 characteristic liberality of a merchant of that period. Master Fitz- 
 Avai-ren had assembled, at his house in Leadenhall street, all those 
 in his employment who Avished to send a small venture in the 
 argosy. Whilst the company, who Avere assembled in the hall, 
 Avere anxiously aAvaiting the advent of Master Cobbs, of Avhom 
 nothing had been seen or heard during the two previous days, 
 Dick, Avho had been summoned to appear Avith the others, looked 
 round in search of Master Simon Racket, but that individual, he 
 perceived, Avas not present. ApprehensiA'c that some accident 
 had prevented his friend from disclosing to the mariner the con- 
 spiracy Avhich had been formed against him, and Avhich, if he 
 Avere not informed of its existence, Avould assuredly succeed, Dick 
 sprang forAvards Avith the intention of unfolding it to Master Fitz- 
 Avarren ; but a moment's reflection convinced him that, as he did 
 not knoAv Avherefore the mariner incurred such danger, and his 
 real rank might be unknoAvn to FitzAvarren, any disclosure Avhich 
 could be made by him Avould be of no avail. His movement, 
 hoAA'ever, and his apparent emotion, attracted the notice of every 
 eye ; and Mistress Alice, avIio had been Avatching him intently for 
 several moments, crossed over to him, and inquired the cause of 
 his discomposure. Dick Avas overAvhelmed Avith confusion, and 
 this circumstance increased the curiosity of Mistress Alice ; but 
 as he Avas determined not to divulge, even to her, a matter of 
 such vast importance, he excused himself by complaining of
 
 106 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 head-ache. Though she was satisfied that this was not the case, 
 and anxious to ascertain the positive cause, Mistress Alice did 
 not press him further; and Dick thought, as she turned away 
 from him, that her eyes upbraided him for his want of confidence. 
 Nevertlieless, he resolved to preserve his secret inviolate; and 
 before he could rescind this i-esolution, a loud summons at the 
 door, which was immediately oi)ened, introduced the anxiously- 
 expected Cohbs. 
 
 Dick innnediately stepped forwards, in the hope of attracting 
 his attention, and thus obtaining an audience ; but the mariner's 
 manner was so stern and commanding, and he was himself so 
 fearful of rebuke, that he determined to wait a more favourable 
 opportunity. 
 
 " You are right welcome, Master Cobbs," cried the merchant, 
 risinsf from his seat as the mariner entered. " We have tarried 
 your commg impatiently. 
 
 " Then Ave will haste to business. Sir Merchant," replied the 
 other, " for I have that to settle with you will keep me here till 
 late." 
 
 "Thank God!" muttered Dick, who had retired to the fur- 
 thermost corner of the hall. 
 
 " 'Twas of him you were speculating, then?" observed a voice 
 beside him. 
 
 Dick looked up, and beheld Mistress Alice, who had overheard 
 his exclamation, and who, before he could reply, crossed over to 
 her father's chair. 
 
 " Stand forth, gallants, and present your ventures," cried 
 Master Fitzwarren to his servants. 
 
 Accordingly, each individual advanced with his separate parcel, 
 and having presented it for inspection, and seen it duly entered in 
 the invoice by Master Fitzwarren, commended it to the care of 
 Providence, and retired. The parcels were then handed over to 
 two sailors, who had entered the hall with Master Cobbs, and 
 who, when they were all collected, were to transport the several 
 ventures to the ship. 
 
 " Where is Master Simon Racket?" asked the merchant, 
 looking round the hall, which was now cleared of all the servants 
 except Dick. " I have not seen him since yesler-night." 
 
 " He was seeking Master Cobbs this morning," replied Mis- 
 tress Alice, " on business, he said, of great moment ; and he bade 
 me tell you he must not rest till he had found him." 
 
 " Ah ! " muttered the mariner. 
 
 " Well, there is one other adventurer yet," observed the 
 merchant. " Stand you forth, young Whittington," he con- 
 tinued, addressing Dick, " What do you purpose sending to the 
 Moor?" 
 
 " I have nothing, your worship," replied Dick, stepping 
 forward.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 107 
 
 " Nay, but I will present something for you," said Mistress 
 Alice. 
 
 *' That cannot be," resumed the merchant. " He must furnish 
 his own venture. Can you aiford nothing soever?" 
 
 " Nothing, your worship," returned Dick. " I have nothing 
 in the world but a cat." 
 
 His three auditors smiled, and Dick, thinking that he had 
 provoked their ridicule, hastened to set the matter in another 
 light. 
 
 " And that, your worship, though it would be a paltry venture, 
 I would be loth to part with, for besides ridding me of some 
 troublesome visitors, it hath shown a sort of fondness for me ; 
 and friends, even though they be dumb, are not to be cast off." 
 
 " Thou speakest sooth," said the merchant. 
 
 " But he hath other friends," muttered Mistress Alice, "though 
 he distrusts them." 
 
 Dick, for whose ear alone this observation was intended, felt 
 his cheek burn, but he reproached his fair accuser neither by look 
 nor word. 
 
 " Bring thy cat hither, Dickon," cried Master Cobbs. " I will 
 take it to the Moor, and I hope, for thy sake, that the venture 
 will prosper." 
 
 Dick made a Ioav bow, and, quitting the hall, ascended to his 
 garret. He took the cat in his arms, and bade her farewell as he 
 Avould a cherished friend ; and with a tear in his eye, and a heart 
 quivering with emotion, he transported her to the hall. The cat 
 was given into the custody of the sailors, who instantly departed ; 
 and Dick, having obtained leave to go abroad, started imme- 
 diately for the Jew's house. 
 
 He had no doubt, as he hastened towards Aldgate, that he 
 would there learn some tidings of Master Simon; and, at all 
 events, as he knew that the mediciner was a confidant of Cobbs, 
 lie could reveal to him the communication which he would rather 
 have made to that individual himself. It was now dusk, and 
 tliough he saw a group of persons, muffled in cloaks, standing 
 opposite to his master's residence, and had no doubt but that they 
 Mere the party from whom hostility was to be expected, he could 
 not, without crossing over to them, clearly ascertain their inten- 
 tions. He thought it prudent, therefore, to push on to the Jew's 
 habitation, which he soon reached ; and, knocking loudly at the 
 door, was hailed from within by Miriam. 
 
 " Open the door, my mistress ! " replied Dick, in answer to her 
 inquiry of " Who knocks?" 
 
 " The God of Israel shield us ! " said the dark-eyed damsel, 
 as, pale and panting, Dick pushed past her into the passage. 
 " What hath happed ? " 
 
 " Where is your father?" cried Dick. 
 
 " He is abroad," returned the damsel. " He sallied forth with
 
 JOS THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Simon betimes this morning, and, as I ween, lias gone in search 
 of Master Cobbs." 
 
 " TJien is Master Cobbs undone," said Dick, passing both his 
 liands over liis face. 
 
 " Wliy for .'" asked Miriam, as she caught hold of his right 
 jiand, and pulled it from his face. " Why for, Dickon?" 
 
 " That 1 must haste back to tell him," replied Dick. 
 
 " You Aviil not tell me, then?" said Miriam, throwing her arm 
 round his neck to detain him, and peering her beautiful dark eyes 
 into his face. *' You mistrust me, do you ?" 
 
 Dick hesitated ; aiul Miriam's flashing eyes, which were begin- 
 ning to assume a sulky expression, suddenly brightened. 
 
 " Go to, you simpl' one ! " she cried, ])layfully throwing down 
 his haiul. " I know more of this matter tlian is known to you. 
 Is the danger imminent?" 
 
 " It is, my mistress," said Dick. 
 
 " Then hie you to Leaden Hall," rejonied Miriam. ** Speak 
 no word, and present no token ; but search out Master Henry, 
 the young cavalier, and tell him what you know." 
 
 " I pray God betide you," cried Dick, turning to depart. 
 
 " God speed you !" said the Hebrew maiden. 
 
 She threw open the door, and Dick darted out. 
 
 He j)aused not a moment till he reached Leaden Hall. He 
 knocked loudly at the door, which v/as instantly opened, but, on 
 expressing his M'ish to see Master Henry, the porter denied him 
 admittance. 
 
 " For the sake of our Lady," cried Dick, throwing himself on 
 his knees, "deny me not! And you do deny me, look you to it; 
 for life and death depend on my seeing him." 
 
 The porter hesitated. " You Avill find him in the garden," he 
 said, at length ; and, taking Dick by the shoulder, he directed 
 him to an open door at the opposite end of the hall. 
 
 Gliding out of the door, and descending a flight of steps into 
 the gai'den, Dick pursued his way down the middle walk, which 
 ran a considerable distance, without meeting the person of whom 
 he was in search ; but M'heu he reached the termination of this 
 M'alk, and turned thence into one more narrow in its dimensions, 
 lu! observ(!d a small arbour, in which, as the music of the dulcimer 
 issued from the interior, he doubted not but the cavalier was 
 located. Tliither he accordingly repaired, and, as he approached 
 it, the music ceased, and the notes oT a man's voice struck on his 
 ear. 
 
 The nitrht was one of those which the poet has called " daylight 
 sick." The dark sky Mas thickly studded with stars, which shed 
 a faint lustre over the drapery of heaven, and the young moon, 
 like a crescent or cincture of silver, seemed to fasten'the embroid- 
 ered canopy to the world's roof. The day had been warm, Avarm 
 for the season, but a sweet breeze, just 'sufficient to arouse the
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 109 
 
 nightingale, " had risen at the vesper time," and it played on 
 Dick's warm cheek, and rustled over the fainting flowers, like a 
 gentle spirit, that bringeth love to man. And love, unquestion- 
 ably, is the offspring of such bright hours. " Beware," says a 
 great writer, addressing the softer sex, " bcAvare of the Ides of 
 May ! " I)ut May, throughout, is a gay and wanton month. 
 
 As Dick advanced towards the arbour, slowly, indeed, but not 
 stealthily, he perceived that its two inmates, Avho were very plea- 
 santly employed, were not aware of his vicinity. A young man, 
 whom he knew for the cavalier, was kneeling at the feet of a 
 young lady, of whom Dick knew nothing whatever ; but he pre- 
 sumed, as she appeared to be the mistress of the cavalier's heart, 
 that she was fair, and, as a matter of course, good. Leaving his 
 hypothesis for confirmation or refutation thereafter, he gave a 
 slight cough, which elicited a scream from the lady, an oath 
 from the cavalier, and broke the spell of one of the most charm- 
 ing love-scenes that the chronicler could have recorded. 
 
 Recovering, in some measure, from the consternation which 
 Dick's sudden a])pearance had created, the two lovers, in different 
 tones, incpiired his business, 
 
 " My business, most tair lady," replied Dick, " is with Master 
 Henry only." 
 
 " Then prithee, good my boy," said Master Henry, " take 
 thou this coin for thy recompense, and return to-morrow.'' 
 
 *< And Master Co'bbs," began Dick — 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed the young chevalier, " say you ? Your 
 errand, quick, quick, boy ! " 
 
 Dick stepped aside from the arbour, and, in a fev,- words and a 
 low tone of voice, acquahited the cavalier with the situation of his 
 parent. 
 
 Brief as was this recital, the cavalier scarcely waited its com- 
 pletion. "Adieu, sweet lady!" he cried, and bidding Dick 
 follow, darted towards th.e house, 
 
 " Ho! ho! for some brave hearts!" he shouted, as he entered 
 the hall ; and before he ceased speaking, Hubert CromAvell con- 
 fronted him, " Hubert," said the cavalier, " help for the mar- 
 iner's life! Lances and masks, my Hubert!" 
 
 " Lances are here in plenty," replied Hubert, beckoning four 
 men forwards, " and masks can be soon procured. Do off your 
 surcoats," he added, addressing the men at arms, " for they show 
 the Faunton crest." 
 
 He quitted the hall, and in a few moments, which the others 
 employed in equipping themselves, he returned with some black 
 masks. In these the Avhole party, except himself and the cavalier, 
 concealed their faces; and those two persons having drawn down 
 their hoods, which thus answered the purpose of masks, they 
 sallied into the street. Just as they attained the street, the clash
 
 110 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 of weapons, at a little distance, announced the commencement of 
 the struggle. 
 
 " God's Son ! " exclaimed the cavalier, " they are at it ! " 
 
 As the party darted forwards, they perceived Master Cobbs, 
 assisted by two others, whom Dick soon discovered to be Master 
 Simon and the Jew, contending with half-a-dozen armed men, 
 who, at the critical moment of their appearance, had nearly 
 achieved their capture. 
 
 " Sanctnar\^ ! Rescue ! Now, my hearts, for your ladies' sakes ! " 
 were the several cries of Master Henry's followers, as, dashing 
 impetuously forwards, they bore up to the side of Master Cobbs. 
 
 *' Lancaster and the king! " cried one of the opposing party. 
 
 " Who puts Lancaster before the king?" shouted Hubert 
 Cromwell, striking him down. 
 
 The battle now began, and would soon have ended in the anni- 
 hilation of Sir Alfred's part}', but the alarms which were raised 
 by the occupants of the adjacent houses, and whish were handed 
 along from one to the other, quickly spread to the Tun on Com- 
 hill, from which place a large party of the watch instantly set 
 forth. These came up witli the combatants, whom a kind of 
 running fight had drawn towards them, at the corner of Gracious 
 street, where a parley was demanded. 
 
 " Wherefore is this brawl ? " asked the headborough, who, as 
 several of the citizens had been drawn forth from their houses, 
 and were now, together with the Avatch, collected round him, was 
 sufficiently strong to intimidate both parties. 
 
 " I have the warrant of the Duke of Lancaster," said Sir Alfred 
 Sinclair, "to apprehend a traitor. 
 
 " Look you to it, good citizens ! " cried the young cavalier, 
 with great earnestness. " Here is a mighty tine pass, I warrant 
 you. Where is your mayor ? Where all the iramimities of your 
 city — your aldermans, your mareschals, your sheriffs, and your 
 headboroughs ? Truly, quotha, I care not for these ; I have the 
 presents of him of Lancaster. A mighty fine pass, I warrant you, 
 for our fair city, and one which it behoves your worships to look 
 to, as I will now, so help me Saint Thomas of Canterbury, the 
 good guardian saint of our citv ! " 
 
 ** Bravely said, and well !" shouted a score of voices. 
 
 " Hold you, my masters ! " cried the headborough. " I know 
 not how to act in this matter, which passes my capacity ; for 
 whereas, as is known to you all, the mayor only has the power of 
 issuing warrants in our city, yet I bethink rne, when the duke 
 sends out his warrant, it must' needs be fulfilled, as coming from 
 the king's highness. Peace you, then ! and we will examine, if 
 there be any clerks among you, how far this worthy stranger's 
 warrant extends." 
 
 " Well spoken !" shouted the citizens.

 
 . DICK WHITTINGTON. Ill 
 
 " There is my warrant," said Sir Alfred, handing it to the 
 headborough. " What say you to it now?" 
 
 " Is there here any cunning scholar who can read you writ- 
 ing?" asked the headborough of the assembly. 
 
 " That cannot I," said one voice, and the same answer was 
 repeated by every one present. 
 
 " Methought," cried Sir Alfred, " that the Jcav mediciner, 
 whom I saw here but now, was a well-read clerk." 
 
 Every eye looked round, and, as the torches of the watch dif- 
 fused a vivid light, every face was distinct — but no Jew, nor 
 mariner, nor Master Simon, was to be seen. 
 
 Sir Alfred's eyes flashed fire. " Forwards ! " he shouted to 
 his vassals, " the villanous traitor has fled. ForAvards, in the 
 name of King Edward ! and if these carrion citizens oppose ye, 
 hew them doAvn ! " 
 
 '* Ho you, Sir Headborough ! " shouted one of the crowd, 
 " hear you not the citizens abused? Stop this 'fray, I charge 
 you!" ' 
 
 " Nay, if he have the duke's warrant," answered the head- 
 borough, " and I think he has so, I meddle not with him." 
 
 This declaration greatly offended the citizens, who, however, 
 were soon dispersed by the watch. But Master Henry, the 
 young cavalier, would probably have occasioned those function- 
 aries some trouble, only that, as he was rallying his men to pursue 
 Sir Alfred, he felt his cloak gently pulled behind, and, on turning 
 round, he encountered a significant glance from Hubert Crom- 
 well. The meaning of this he at once understood ; and drawing 
 off" his men, whom he led home by a round-about way, he quitted 
 the scene of action. 
 
 Dick, who had stood by throughout, having witnessed the ter- 
 mination of the affray, and seen what the others did not, the 
 manner of Master Coblis's retreat, now slipped along in the shadow 
 of the houses to his master's habitation. There were no lights 
 visible through the casements, which seemed to intimate that the 
 inmates had retired to bed, and he determined to proceed to the 
 Jew's residence. It was now nearly eleven o'clock, but Aldgate 
 was not yet closed. Thither he repaired at his full speed, and, 
 meeting no interruption in the way, he soon reached it ; and 
 knocking gently at the Jew's door, and giving his name in answer 
 to the usual inquiry, he was admitted by Miriam.
 
 112 THE LIl-E AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XI. THE DREAM. 
 
 UIIAT HAPPENED AT THE HOUSE OF MASTER SALMON, THE JEW 
 
 MEDICINER HOW IT WAS BESIEGED, HOAV THE SIEGE WAS 
 
 RAISED, AND BY AVHOM ; HOW A CERTAIN HERO, HIGHT 
 DICK AVHITTINGTON, BECAME THE KNIGHT OF A LADY FAIR, 
 AND HOW THE SAID LADY DREAMT A DREAM. 
 
 As Miriam closed the outer door after him, and the lamp which 
 she carried in her hand, relieved from the agitation of the atmos- 
 phere, shed a calm and steady light around, Dick perceived that 
 his arrival had hrought a flush of pleasure to her cheeks, which, 
 in that long, dark passage, and that gentle and limited light — ■ 
 in that tranquil moment, Avhen the busy events of the few pre- 
 ceding hours, which liad swept like a hurricane over his mind, 
 had left him more open to tender thoughts — in that solitary hour, 
 approaching to midnight, when the spirit, if awake, assumes a 
 more extensive comprehension than at any other time — those 
 olive cheeks, he thought, Avere mor^ beautiful, more lovely, more 
 holy, and more chaste, nearer akin to his ideas of heavenly per- 
 fection, of innocence, and of modesty, than aught he had yet seen 
 beneath the sky. Such a thought, though he was but a simple 
 boy, Avas not above the capacity of his years, nor, though it was 
 untutored, of his mind. 
 
 He held out las hand to take the lamp from her, but she drcAA' 
 it back, and stepped before him. 
 
 " HoAv fared you," she asked, as she ascended to the upper 
 chamber, " Iioav fared you Avith Master Henry ?" 
 
 " He is a most courteous gallant," replied Dick, Avith an arch 
 smile. " He Avent Avith me on the instant, taking half-a-dozen of 
 brave hearts Avith him ; and in sooth 'tAvas but a timely under- 
 taking. HoAvbeit, Ave rescued Master Cobbs ; and in the event, 
 by most excellent strategy, your Avorshipful sire took him off" 
 scathless. 
 
 " God, he be thanked ! " exclaimed Miriam, raising her dark 
 eyes tOAvards heaven. " But hither, Dickon," she continued, as 
 they reached the chamber, "enter hither, Dickon, and relate 
 
 lOAV. 
 
 " 'Tis a short story," rejoined Dick, following Miriam into the
 
 DICK WHITTINGTOX. 113 
 
 room, and taking his seat beside her on a cushion, " and can be 
 soon told. Your sire, fair mistress " 
 
 " I am not fair, Dick," interrupted Miriam. 
 
 " What art thou, then ,'" said Dick. " And you be not fair, 
 and veiy fair too, there is none fair in the city." 
 
 "My sooth!" exclaimed Miriam, smiling, "but you have 
 soon learned the gallant's art. On with thy tale, simplon, or my 
 sire will be here before you begin." 
 
 " He will not be here to-night," replied Dick. 
 
 " How know you that ? " asked Miriam, alarmed. 
 
 " Nay," cried Dick, " be not ruffled thereat. He will rest, I 
 think, with Master Cobbs to-night." 
 
 " Wilt thou not wait till he comes, then ? " 
 
 " I will wait till morning, fair mistress," replied Dick, " if it 
 pleasure you to sutler me. I am shut out from my master's, as I 
 tarried to see the fate of Master Cobbs." 
 
 " Thou can'st rest in my father's couch, then," said Miriam, 
 " but to thy story." 
 
 " When," began Dick, " I brought up Master Henry and his 
 force, your father and Master Simon were fighting by the mariner's 
 side ; and but for our arrival, which turned the scale, would soon 
 have been captured. On our coming up, the foe gave way ; but 
 the watch being alarmed, and hurrying to the spot, a parley was 
 brought about ; and a crowd of citizens, who had been drawn 
 thither by the noise of the fray, mingled with both parties. Master 
 Henry, whom I know for a steadfast Lancastrian, made a speech 
 against the duke, and so angered the citizens against his grace, 
 and against the other cavalier also, that a great noise and bustle 
 followed. Howbeit, I kept my eye on Master Cobbs, and saw 
 your father push him back into Gracious street, and then I saw 
 your father and Master Simon slink after him. They ran down 
 the street like lightning, and as it was very dark, and I was afraid 
 to quit the spot, they were very soon beyond sight." 
 
 " But haply they were overtaken?" 
 
 " Nay," replied Dick, " that could they not be ; for when they 
 were missed from the crowd, the cavalier took another road, 
 thinking they had fled straight onward." 
 
 " 'Twas a cunning strategy of my father," said Miriam, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Most excellent," replied Dick, laughing outright. 
 
 " I warrant you," observed Miriam, " they will sleep on ship- 
 board to-night." 
 
 " Ay," sighed Dick. 
 
 " Wherefore do you sigh, Dickon ? " 
 
 " I have ventured my all in the ship,"* replied Dick, " and the 
 sea is a great devourer. Besides, albeit 'twas dear to me as a 
 friend's speech, my venture is not like to turn to good account." 
 
 " Wherefore?" asked Miriam.
 
 114 THE LIFE AXD TIMES OF 
 
 " 'Twas only a cat," rejoined Dick. 
 
 Miriam laup:lied, and before she could explain the cause of her 
 merriment, of which Dick did not seem to approve; both of them 
 were startled by a thundering rap at the outer door. 
 
 " 'Tis your father," said Dick, as he moved towards the cham- 
 ber door. 
 
 " Xay, nav," whispered Miriam, catching hold of his arm 
 with both her hands, " I know my father's summons. 'Tis some 
 stranger — some one in authority." 
 
 " In sooth," replied Dick, " it may be the caitiff " 
 
 A second rap, louder and more prolonged than the first, ar- 
 rested Dick's speech. 
 
 Miriam trembled. She dropped her head on Dick's shoulder, 
 and her beautiful black hair, laying so still over her pale features, 
 floated down on his breast. Her small hands grasped his ann 
 with a nervous yet trembling tenacity. Her bosom, where tran- 
 quillity, and love, and purity, were wont to dwell together — he felt 
 its rapid swell and fall, its quivering pulsation, its woman fears 
 appealing to his yoimg right arm. He looked down at her lovely 
 face, and a melancholy reflection flashed across his mind. There 
 he stood in the wide world, which wore so dark and forbidding a 
 front, and there was no star to illuminate his way, no hand to 
 point out a safe path, no lovely lips to smile, no bright eye to 
 beam on the lone and hapless orphan. His mother — she was deep 
 in the cold, damp earth, where he must lay at last, and where the 
 beautiful and the deformed, the vii-tuous and the depraved, the 
 courageous and the cowardly, made a glorious banquet for the 
 filthy worm. God ! — but there were some that loved him ; and 
 the sister who leaned on his aim, and whom he prized so dearly 
 — she was among the foremost. As these thoughts, which fleeted 
 through his mind in a moment's space, recalled his usual evenness 
 of temper, his heart became as calm, nervous, and resolved, as 
 that of a giant. 
 
 " Cheer thee up, mistress," he said, as the loud knocking at 
 the door was repeated. " We will inquire the meaning of this 
 to-do." 
 
 *' Thou'lt stand by me, Dickon ? " 
 
 " To the death," replied Dick, firmly. 
 
 " Then I will not fear," said Miriam, trembling as she spoke. 
 " But you had better hail them, Dick. 'Twill sound better from 
 you than from a girl." 
 
 " Ay," rejoined Dick. " Bear thou the light, mistress, and 
 fear nought." 
 
 They then descended the stairs, and heard a voice calling on 
 them to open the door. 
 
 " What seek ye, gentles ?" asked Dick, in a loud and firm tone. 
 
 " I charge you, in the name of the king's highness, to open the 
 door," was the reply. 
 
 i
 
 DICK WHITTINGTOJf. 115 
 
 " Nay, that will I not," answered Dick. " His highness hath 
 given you no warrant to use his name ; and besides, gentles, it is 
 known to all of ye, or should be known, that a citizen's house can 
 be entered only with its master's license, wherefore, though 'twere 
 a roofless shed, 'tis as strong as the Tower Real." 
 
 *' Hark you, Sir Youngster," i-eplied the voice, " your argu- 
 ment applies not to traitors. So open the door, in the king's 
 name, or we will straightway force it." 
 
 " For that you have no warrant," returned Dick. " There 
 dwell no traitors here, but true lieges, who Avill defy your utmost. 
 And mark you, Sir Alfred, that the dame who advised with you 
 in the garden yonder, and who dared you to harm a hair of the 
 Jew's head — mark you that she hear not of this." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " Where is Master Salmon ? " asked the voice without. 
 
 " He is abroad," replied Dick ; " and I pray you begone, or I 
 will ring an alarum, which will soon bring the watch hither." 
 
 " Thou art a bold buzzard," returned the other; " and 'tis well 
 for thee there are two inches of oak between us." 
 
 " I seek not to provoke you, worthy sir," said Dick. " Thou 
 art welcome to remain without so long as it pleasure you ; but 
 prithee, and you value your well-being, tempt me not to alarum 
 the ward. Your force is small, and in a few minutes, without 
 stirring from the spot, I can summon hither a brave power. 
 Moreover, you will remember what was told you by the dame." 
 
 " I know not your name," replied the other, " or whence you 
 acquire your knowledge, but you speak good sooth. Prithee 
 open the door, and I will give thee a recompense." 
 
 Dick made no answer, but drawing Miriam away from the 
 door, and leading her up the passage, inquired if there Avas no 
 outlet at the back of the house. 
 
 " There is none save yonder casement," replied the damsel, 
 " and that is a few feet above an out-house, whence a man might 
 drop himself into the garden. But what would you ?" 
 
 " I would I had a small bow and shaft," said Dick. " I would 
 then out of the casement, and alarum the Aldgate watch." 
 
 " You will come to harai," returned Miriam, detaining him. 
 
 " Nay, you keep them in parley at the door," rejoined Dick. 
 " Have you no small bow and shaft ? " 
 
 Miriam ascended the stairs, and in a few moments returned 
 with two bows. Dick took the smallest one, and having fitted it 
 with a shaft, and opened the casement which Miriam pointed out, 
 he clambered up to the sill, and stepped down on the roof of the 
 out-house. He crept along the tiles to the verge of the gable, 
 which he grasped firmly with both his hands, and then, when he 
 had let himself down as far as he could, dropped to the ground. 
 
 There was still an outer wall to climb before he would be clear 
 of the premises, but as this was no great height, he made a spring
 
 116 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 to catcli the top with his hands, and though several times foiled 
 in tliis purpose, he was at last successful.. When he had sur- 
 mounted this difficulty, and descended safely on the other side, 
 ■where he picked up his bow and shaft, which, previous to climbing 
 over himself, he had thrown over the wall, he moved stealthily 
 along in the shade to Aldgate. On reaching the gate, and turn- 
 inn- round to see whether he had been observed, he perceived that 
 there were six persons assembled before the Jew's door, and that 
 they were still kept in parley by Miriam. The postern of Aldgate 
 was not yet closed, and he had therefore no difficulty in alarming 
 the watch, whom he implored to hasten to the mediciner's resi- 
 dence, as it was attacked, he said, by a party of court gallants. 
 
 " I bear no good will to the hang-dog Jew," said the chief 
 warder ; " but these court gallants be greater plagues than he. 
 Out with 3^ou, my hearts," he added, addressing the watch, "and 
 we will examine into this business." 
 
 Dick, having seen the watch turn out, retraced his steps with 
 the same caution as he had previously observed, and gained the 
 garden wall, where he proposed to station himself, at the moment 
 that the watchmen began a parley with the besiegers. He drew 
 the string of his bow, fitted the shaft, raised it to his shoulder, 
 and prepared, if it became necessary, to take aim. 
 
 " Hilloa you ! " cried the warder to Sir Alfred. " What seek 
 you of the pottingar?" 
 
 " Neither himself nor his daughter," replied Sir Alfred. — 
 Dick almost suffered the shaft to fly. — " But a degraded knight 
 and traitor, whom we have reason to think he harbours. We 
 have warrant for our dispositions." 
 
 " What," answered the warder, " warrant to attack a burgher's 
 house at midnight ! Nay, my masters, none of that, and it like 
 you. Prithee take yourselves peaceably off, else ye may 
 rue it." 
 
 *' You dare not molest us," returned Sir Alfred. 
 
 " There you lie !" cried the warder, in a passion. But he had 
 hardly uttered the words, when, raising his unsheathed rapier, 
 Sir Alfred made a pass at his breast. His black-jack, or proof 
 doublet, broke the thrust, and before Sir Alfred could repeat it, a 
 shaft from an unseen hand was lodged in his arm. 
 
 A shout from the watchmen recalled his presence of mind to 
 tlieir leader, who seized Sir Alfred by his now powerless arm, 
 and drew^ him in among the watch. 
 
 " I attach thee in the name of King Edward ! " said the 
 warder. 
 
 "Hold, hound!" cried Sir Alfred. "I am lawfully autho- 
 rized by the warrant of the king's highness. I have haply ex- 
 ceeded my commission, but while such I hold," — and he drew 
 the warrant from his breast — " you dare not attach me." 
 
 " Does this warrant you to break into the pottingar's house?"
 
 J^^0VJ:^ /' 
 
 • "^ "SI I • - ^
 
 DICK WHITTiyGTON. 117 
 
 asked the warder, who saw that his prisoner was a man of rank, 
 and one of whom he had no wish to make an enemy. 
 
 " Xo," replied Sir Alfred, " but it warrants me to attach a 
 certain traitor whenever and wherever he be found." 
 
 '' Then, as never a one of us can read,'* said the warder, " and 
 therefore can judge not a counterfeit from a true writing, it should 
 be carried by my Lord Percy, or by the sherifis, or by some 
 headborough at the least. So prithee, worshipful sir, draw off 
 your force, or I must hold you in ward till the morrow." 
 
 Sir Alfred hesitated. His followers were not near so powerful 
 as the watch, and he was himself wounded and a prisoner. It 
 was probable, too, that the mediciner and Master Cobbs were 
 really abroad ; and if this were the case, or even if it were not so, 
 no advantage could accrue from his persisting in the face of the 
 watch. Perhaps, also, as he had molested the Jew, Dame Alice 
 Perrers would withdraw her support — that was a sad reflection 
 indeed. 
 
 " I will stay further measures till to-morrow, then," he said 
 at last. 
 
 He was suffered to walk back to his own followers, and having 
 been assisted to don his cloak, and to bind his wounded arm 
 ticrhtly with a scarf, he marched towards Aldgate. When, fol- 
 lowed by the watch, they passed through the postern, Dick heard 
 it slammed to ; and, at the same moment, the clocks of the city 
 chimed the half-hour past eleven. 
 
 Dick ran round to the garden-gate, and rapped gently at the 
 mediciner's door. 
 
 " Is it you, Dickon?" asked Miriam from within. 
 
 *' Aye, mistress," replied Dick. 
 
 The door was opened, and, directly Dick had entered, was 
 re-closed, bolted, and barred. 
 
 " Why, where is your shaft ?" asked Miriam, perceiving that 
 Dick held the bow only. 
 
 " Flown," answered Dick. 
 
 " Gramercy I was it you struck the knigrht ?" 
 
 Dick smiled. 
 
 " Then shall you be my knight hence," said Miriam, and, 
 flinging her left arm round Dick's neck, while she held the lighted 
 lamp aside with the other, she imprinted a kiss on his lips. 
 
 " I will be your brother," said Dick, smiling; and led the way 
 up stairs. 
 
 On reaching the upper chamber, Miriam advised Dick to go 
 to bed, and pointed out the apartment in which he was to lodsre, 
 and accordingly, having bidden her trood ni<iht, he retired. The 
 bed on which he threw himself, and which was usually occupied 
 by the mediciner, was so much easier than the one that he gene- 
 rally lodged in, that had he even been less weary than at other 
 times, he would soon have fell asleep ; but being so much more
 
 118 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 fatifnied, he had no sooner laid liimself thereon, and repeated his 
 prayers, than his mind bent itself to slumber. 
 
 He awoke at daAvn, much refreshed, and having donned his 
 clothes, descended to the chamber which served the Jew as a 
 sittinf-room. Miriam had not risen, but he knew her apartment, 
 and as he tapped gently at her door, which was concealed behind 
 the tapestiy of the afore-mentioned chamber, he heard her voice 
 Avithin. 
 
 " Whither so early, Dickon?" she asked. 
 
 " To London bridge, mistress,'' replied Dick. 
 
 " Tarry a moment," said Miriam, " for though I may not go 
 with you to see the ship sail, as my father would not that the 
 house were left empty, I will bid you farewell ere joii start." 
 
 The light of day was streaming through the sky-light in faint 
 but beautiful rays ; the hum of the neighbouring city was just 
 beginning to awake ; the carts, wains, and other mercantile car- 
 riages were rolling over the road to Aldgate, the fairest portal of 
 great, yet infant London, and all the bustle which altered habits 
 have postponed till later hours, and the song of the merry lark, 
 which is now not heard at all, was already begun. Dick listened, 
 and listened on, but it was for Miriam's light step, which, light 
 as it was, he heard at last. 
 
 " Oh, Dick," she cried, as she entered the room, " I have been 
 dreaming of you all night." 
 
 " And what did you dream, mistress?" asked Dick. 
 
 " I dreamed," replied Miriam, " that you were richly clad, 
 and seated in a high chair, and the people, who were round you 
 in crowds, tossed their bonnets in the air, and called you my 
 lord. I thought I came up to you " 
 
 " And what did I say?" interrupted Dick, whose face was 
 flushed Avith the animation of sanguine hope. 
 
 " Yoii pushed me away," sobbed Miriam. 
 
 " And there be truth in dreams," cried Dick, as he took her 
 hand in his own, and clutched it with timid affection, " the Avorld 
 is changed ; for I have always heard say that dreams go oppo- 
 site. So, gentle mistress, you will be richly clad, and seated on 
 high dais, and the people, who will be round you in crowds, will 
 toss their bonnets in the air, and call you dame. Then I will 
 come up to you, a poor beggar, clad in rags ; but," he added, as 
 he bent doAvn his head, and looked in her beautiful eyes, " you 
 will 7wt push me away, will you?" 
 
 *' No, never," said Miriam. 
 
 " Good betide you ! " cried Dick, bounding down the stairs. 
 
 " God speed you !" returned Miriam, 
 
 She descended the stairs, and followed him down the passage, 
 and when he had emerged from the house she closed the door 
 after him.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XII. THE RAMBLE. 
 
 LONDON BRIDGE THE DEPARTURE OF THE UNICORN DICK WHIT- 
 TINGTON GOES ON A RAMBLE, AND IS AS HIGHLY GRATIFIED 
 THEREWITH AS COULD REASONABLY BE EXPECTED. 
 
 Dick Whittington, tbough he walked along at a moderate 
 pace, soon attained the northern approach of London bridge, 
 which structure, notwithstanding that he had several times been 
 in its immediate vicinity, he had not yet surveyed. There had 
 been a bridge there, as he had learned from Master Simon, as 
 early as the tenth century. It was not, however, a stone erection, 
 but timber only, and was destroyed by fire in the year 1163, 
 when, mainly through the munificence of private individuals, it 
 was rebuilt. But this second bridge, which was also ef wood, 
 became so ruinous in a score of years after, that it was at last 
 resolved to build one of stone ; and Peter, curate of St Mary 
 Oldchurch, and a celebrated architect at that time, was employed 
 to superintend this undertaking. 
 
 The foundation was formed on stout piles, which were driven 
 close together, and surmounted by long planks ten inches thick, 
 and secured to the piles by strong bolts of iron. These planks 
 were coated with pitch, as a kind of preservative from the water, 
 and supported the bases of the piers, which were surrounded by 
 another line of piles, called, by builders, starlings. " These," 
 says Tennant, " contracted the space between the piers so greatly, 
 as to cause, at the retreat of every tide, a fall of five feet, or a 
 number of temporary cataracts, which, since the foundation of the 
 bridge, have occasioned the loss of many thousand lives." 
 
 In the centre of the bridge there was a draw-bridge, defended 
 by a strong tower, which had several times preserved London 
 from the spoiler, and which, in times of trouble, was generally 
 garnished with a dozen of human heads. Kentzuer, a German 
 traveller, who visited this country in 1 598, records that at one 
 time he counted above thirty heads ! A little further on, at either 
 side, were three openings with ballustrades, so that passengers 
 might have a view of the river, which, except in these places, 
 was completely shut out by tottering houses. At the Southwark 
 end, within a stone's throw of the celebrated hostel called the
 
 120 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 * Tabard,' rose a dark, arched building, which often echoed with 
 boisterous revehy, and which, if Stow speaks truth, was let out 
 by the city for no very creditable purposes. 
 
 Dick M-alked forward to one of the open spaces in the expecta- 
 tion of seeing the ' Unicorn' under sail; and having discerned it, 
 though not under sail, he ran forwards to the draw-bridge. The 
 waiters, as the men who had the care of this draw-bridge were 
 called, had been at their posts for some time ; and on going up 
 to them, he found that Master Simon and the Jew, whom he 
 thought on shipboard, were in their company. Those two wor- 
 thies received him Avith their usual cordiality ; and as the scene 
 was quite new to him, and would at any time have been interest- 
 ing, he beheld it with wondering delight. 
 
 But what most pleased him, as he gazed on the broad and 
 rapid river, was the advance of the * Unicorn,' as, with her sails 
 unfui'led, but not expanded, riiffling in a fresh breeze, and towed 
 along by four boats, she passed, amid the cheers of the spectators, 
 under the raised draw-bridge. Then spread the free white sails, 
 then rose the red cross of St George in its silver field, then Avere 
 the towing boats hoisted alongside, then as the shrill whistle, 
 which has from time immemorial l)een piped by boatswains, sank 
 into a low chirp, rushed forth the cheers which distinguish the 
 English sailor and soldier, and which, on the crimson sea or the 
 gory field, in boarding French frigates or charging French 
 armies, have rung a hundred thousand times the chorus of 
 victory. 
 
 Away scudded the gallant bark — now making straight for the 
 four turrets of the White Tower, anon tacking to the opposite 
 bank of RedrifF, then dashing through the rippling river towards 
 the Tower again, and straightway, as though she were but trying 
 her strength, making once more for the Surrey side. At last, 
 just before she turned from the sight with the sweep of the river, 
 she displayad a second flag on her mizen, as a farewell, a long 
 farewell, to the three fi'iends who watched her from the bridge. 
 But Dick's eyes still looked for her, and so intently did he gaze 
 after her, that though Master Simon had been talking to him for 
 several minutes, he did not hear a word that was uttered. At 
 length, catching him by the arm. Master Simon gave him a 
 gentle shake, and, aroused from the reflections in which he had 
 been indulging, he turned mournfully away. As he prepared to 
 leave the bridge, which at another time he would have tarried to 
 inspect, Master Simon asked him where he had slept; and Dick 
 replied l)y relating the events of the night. 
 
 " Gramercy, my son!" said the Jew, when Dick had finished 
 his narrative, " I owe you many thanks for your news, and more 
 for your service. I will homewards straight." 
 
 "Will you not with us to the cross, then?" asked Master 
 Simon.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 121 
 
 " I must first look after my household gods," replied the 
 mediciner. And accordingly, parting from them at the junc- 
 tion of Gracious street with Fish street, he hastened towards 
 Aldgate. 
 
 " Step you out, Dickon," said Master Simon, " and we will be 
 in time for matins at Paul's Cross." 
 
 Dick obeyed his friend's injunction ; but though he said no- 
 thing, he could scarcely think that, opposed as he was to the 
 church of Rome, Master Simon was sincere in his purpose of 
 participating in its solemnization of public prayer. There was a 
 kind of smile, too, standing out on Master Simon's jolly face, and 
 savouring more of the proud and exulting sinner than of the 
 demure devotee ; but Dick made no remark, and they passed on 
 into Cheapside. This street, which derived its name from chepe 
 (a market), Avas then the principal street in the city. In the year 
 1246, when there was scarcely a regular street in London, Cheap- 
 side was an open field, called Crown Field, there being at its 
 eastern end an hostelry, which bore the sign of the Crown. About 
 half way doAvn, if tradition may be relied on, stood the Standard, 
 or permanent scaffold, where criminals and many others were 
 executed; and at a little distance therefrom, and nearer to the 
 church of St Paul, was Cheapside Cross. This was built, at the 
 same time with Charing and other crosses, by Edward the Third, 
 in memory of his wife Philippa ; and stood beside a condiut of 
 water, erected in 1285 for the supply of chepe. 
 
 Each of these structures received a glance from Dick as he 
 passed them, but there was no time for a close inspection, or to 
 ask any questions concerning them of Master Simon, who, as the 
 bells were already tolling for matins, urged him to increase his 
 pace. Proceeding, therefore, at a smart step, they soon reached 
 St Paul's Churchyard, and here, for the first time, Dick beheld 
 the magnificent cathedral. As it may happen, however, that the 
 chronicler may have a future opportunity of describing this edi- 
 fice, and as the present purpose bears more upon the celebrated 
 cross, the reader must follow Dick to the latter structure. 
 
 A pulpit of wood, covered with lead, and mounted on steps of 
 stone, formed the cross. At this place, where, in the forenoon of 
 Sundays, the most celebrated divines expounded the gospel, the 
 court, the mayor and aldermen, and the principal citizens, were 
 wont on those occasions to resort ; and here, too, in turbulent 
 times, the most popular orators addressed the citizens. There 
 were covered galleries for the king and his train : and the supe- 
 rior class of citizens, in the opinion of the industrious Tennant, 
 were afforded similar accommodation. On the present occasion, 
 though it was so early in tbe morning, an immense crowd had 
 congregated in the front of the cross, and as Dick, led forwards 
 by Master Simon, approached that place, a high dignitary of the 
 church, wearing a costly mitre, ascended to the pulpit.
 
 122 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 The most profound silence prevailed, and, following the ex- 
 ample of every individual present, Dick removed his hood. A 
 short Latin prayer was repeated by the ecclesiastic, who, as 
 Master Simon informed Dick in a whisper, was no other than 
 the Bishop of London, and, so far as the Romish party was con- 
 cerned, the most popular preacher of the time. The bishop then 
 looked round at the crowd, and having briefly solicited their 
 attention, addressed them thus : — 
 
 " Worshipful citizens and my very good children, there has 
 gone a rumour abroad concerning ye, who were wont to pay re- 
 spect unto authority, denying that you be other than a traitorous 
 set ; and there be some, not over scrupulous in their consciences, 
 who accuse ye of many things. And Holy Church will examine, 
 my very worthy and right faithful children, into what these slan- 
 derers accuse ye of, which, as they Avould have us believe, is 
 enmity to the good and mighty prince, our honoured lord of 
 Lancaster. That there be some disloyal knaves among ye I dis- 
 credit not ; but that ye, my children, are ill-affected, I dare not 
 believe. Howbeit, that the mouth of slander may be stopped, 
 and that all men may know the church enjoins loyalty, I have 
 come here this day ; and as I stand afore God, as a consecrated 
 minister to man, I do pronounce, in His name, anathema against 
 the disobedient. He and his house, his man-servant and his 
 maid-servant, all who shall lend him charity, or look on him with 
 compassion, are thenceforth shut out from the pale of the church, 
 and, under the ban of the holy vicar, resigned to Satan and his 
 angels." 
 
 The address was short, but it made a visible impression on the 
 auditory, who, on the bishop's descending from the pulpit, col- 
 lected in groups of five or six, and talked the matter over. 
 
 " I suppose, my masters," said Master Simon, as he joined one 
 of the groups, " the mayor and aldermans will have to discuss on 
 this?" 
 
 " Ay," replied one of the persons whom he had addressed. 
 " There is to be a council holden at Alderman's Bury, and now 
 I think on 't, I will hie me there." 
 
 " I'll 'company you," rejoined Master Simon. 
 
 << Prithee no," said a third person, extending his naked rapier. 
 " I know you for a non-contenter, a swaggerer, a touch of your 
 bully, a fellow who knows your passado and your puncto, and 
 can count on your spells and your strategies. I attach you in 
 the name of the king." 
 
 He seized the collar of Master Simon, who, being so suddenly 
 arrested, was at first incapable of resistance ; but recovering his 
 presence of mind, and perceiving that he Avas detained by one 
 man only, he endeavoured to shake him off. 
 
 '' Ho ! " he cried, *' here are your bullymen abroad. Will 
 none of you help an honest fellow at a pinch?"
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 123 
 
 But there was no response to this appeal to popular passion. 
 The bystanders, apprehensive that Master Simon was one of the 
 delinquents whom the bishop had stigmatized, and fearful of 
 incurring the penalties which had just been denounced against the 
 favourers of such offenders, anxiously avoided him ; and two 
 surly partisans, whose slouched hats seemed donned for the pur- 
 pose of disguise, and who were the only persons who inteifered, 
 charged him with endeavouring to create a riot. Dick thought 
 that he recognized the voice of one of these persons, and as he 
 had no desire to be recognized himself, and saw that he could be 
 of no service to his friend, he resolved to retreat. Accordingly, 
 while the two surly partisans assisted the detainer to remove Mas- 
 ter Simon, Dick pushed through the crowd to Cheapside, and 
 thence through Cornhill and Leadenhall street to the mediciner's 
 house at Aldgate. 
 
 He was much surprised, as he entered the little garden in front 
 of the house, to perceive the Jew's door a-jar ; and he was alarmed, 
 on inducting himself into the passage, to hear his friend's voice 
 calling loudly on Miriam. Miriam ! — where was she ? He sprang 
 np the dark staircase, as a presentiment, for which he could not 
 account, suddenly occurred to him, and rushed into the chamber 
 which served the mediciner as a sitting-room. No one was there, 
 but he heard the Jew's voice in the outer room, which he entered. 
 
 " My child ! Where is my child ? " said the Jew, as he per- 
 ceived Dick. 
 
 " That would I ask, father," replied Dick. " Was she not 
 here when you arrived ? " 
 
 " No," returned the Jew. 
 
 " Then how did you gain entrance ? " 
 
 The Jew made no reply, but returning to the outer chamber, 
 again invoked his daughter. Dick followed him, and examined 
 the tapestry which hung round the room ; and as the Jew, who 
 watched him anxiously, began to give her up for lost, he ascended 
 to the. upper rooms, and searched every corner that could afford 
 concealment. But no Mii'iam appeared, and he returned in de- 
 spair to the mediciner. 
 
 " 'Tis no frolic," he said, as the anxious father inquired the 
 result of his search; " she has gone." 
 
 Again and again did the mediciner traverse the house, exhort- 
 ing his daughter to disclose herself, but in vain. At last, over- 
 come with emotion, he sank down on a cushion, and, throwing 
 his arms on the table, buried his face in his hands. 
 
 " Mayhap," suggested Dick, " she has only gone forth on 
 some household errand, and will presently return." 
 
 " You know her not, my son," replied the mediciner. " No 
 idle business would lead her forth, nor, in my absence, would she 
 admit a stranger." 
 
 " They might pift some strategy on her, father?"
 
 124 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " They might," rejoined the Jew ; " but in the light of day, 
 even if they had seduced her out, they dare not carry her off per- 
 force." 
 
 " When I remember her precautions," said Dick, " and her 
 conceits, and her wisdom, I think she must have gone of her own 
 accord." 
 
 " I know none," returned the mediciner, " who have influence 
 over her. God of Israel ! " he exclaimed, as a thought suddenly 
 struck him, " yes ! there is one, and one only, who could lead 
 her forth. She may be safe yet." And he started up, and made 
 towards the door. 
 
 Dick followed him, and they descended the stairs, and quitted 
 the house together ; but as the Jew walked at a very quick pace, 
 and did not invite him to do the same, Dick thought that he had 
 better part company. When, therefore, they had passed through 
 Aldgate, he lagged behind, and his friend was soon out of 
 sight. 
 
 The agitation and complete surprise which the unexpected and 
 mysterious disappearance of Miriam had excited in his mind, and 
 the conjectures as to the reason of it which naturally arose, had 
 entirely obliterated from Dick's memory the arrest of his friend 
 Master Simon, and the suspicions which, as has been before 
 hinted, he entertained of the parties who had attached him. No 
 sooner, however, had the person of the Jew disappeared, and the 
 lodging of Master Simon, wliich he was then passing, become 
 visible, than the train of his reflections returned to its original 
 channel; and, recollecting the perilous situation of his good- 
 natured friend, he bitterly repi'oached himself for not imparting it 
 to the mediciner. Would Master Simon, he asked himself, have 
 behaved thus to him; or would he not rather, if unable to deliver 
 him, have chosen to participate his captivity? Such was the 
 opinion which Dick formed of his friend's fidelity ; and, even had 
 he been more intimate with the world, it was no discredit to either 
 his heart or his judgment. 
 
 But the Jew, the only friend Avhom he could consult on a busi- 
 ness so important as the deliverance of Master Simon, was already 
 out of sight, engaged, too, in a matter which more nearly con- 
 cerned him, and which, even if he were finally successful, would 
 occupy him for some time. In this dilemma, after a moment's 
 thought, lie resolved to communicate with his master ; but when, 
 with this intention, he reached Leadenhall street, he reflected how 
 improbable it was that he would gain an audience, and how, 
 moreover, he would have to encounter Dame Williams. Con- 
 scious, however, of the integrity of his motives, and sensible of 
 the importance of immediate measures, he would have persisted 
 in his purpose, and sought, through the interest of Mistress Alice, 
 an interview with Master Fitzwarren; but just as he had decided 
 on this course, and made up his tale as he intended to tell it, he
 
 d:ck whittington. 125 
 
 happened to glance at the front of Leaden Hall, and, making an 
 abrupt pause, he resolved on another line of policy. 
 
 He ascended the flight of steps that led to the noble vestibule 
 of Leaden Hall, which, years afterwards, he presented as a gift 
 to the admiring city, and in answer to an inquiry from the porter, 
 who had no recollection of his person, replied that he wished to 
 see Master Henry. 
 
 " Then you may wish a long time, my young gaffer," returned 
 the corpulent official ; " for may the devil accept me — our Lady 
 pardon me for swearing ! — if I admit you here." 
 
 " You admitted me here last even, your worship," replied Dick, 
 *' and no mischief came of it." 
 
 . " No mischief came of it ! " echoed the porter. " No mischief 
 come of it ! No mischief, forsooth ! Why, here was our young 
 Lady of Hereford, and — who is worse — her saucy minx of a wo- 
 man, threatening me with everything but instant death therefore. 
 The devil refuse me, but that was mischief enough." 
 
 " I have a weighty matter to speak of with Master Henry," 
 said Dick. 
 
 The fat porter laughed till Dick began to feel apprehensive for 
 his life. Something seemed to please him amazingly, but being 
 of a comfortable body, and troubled with a most persevering and 
 mirth-hating cough, which invariably attacked him when he re- 
 laxed his risible muscles, there Avas much reason to fear that, 
 before he had his laugh out, he would be choked. At length, 
 however, he came to ; and then the merry old fellow condescended 
 to hint at the provocation which he had received. 
 
 " A weighty matter, forsooth ! ha! ha! ha! — hongh ! hough! 
 God save us, my masters! And what may this matter be 1 " 
 
 " 'Tis one, your worship, which I may not speak of." 
 
 " A cartel, I promise you," said the porter ; " or stay, no los, 
 but an affair of love. Ha ! ha ! a weighty matter to ladies and 
 gallants ! Ha ! — hough ! hough ! " 
 
 " Prithee, sir, admit me." 
 
 " I'm not the fellow to spoil a love affair, my young master ; 
 but when there be such a matter abroad, and any of our gallants 
 are implicated therein, it makes the ladies at home here so quar- 
 relsome and jealous. Prithee, then, what is your errand ?" 
 
 " I was told," said Dick, willing that the porter should believe 
 him to be an ambassador of love, and recollecting some words 
 which he had heard Miriam say on the preceding night, and 
 which, he thought, were not a little to the purpose — " I was told 
 nor to speak a word nor to present a token.'' 
 
 " You should have spoken the pass-word before," said the 
 porter, drawing Dick into the hall. " Repair to yonder chamber, 
 and I will have Master Henry advertised of your errand." 
 
 Dick, somewhat surprised at the open-sesame ^ovfev of Miriam's 
 words, introduced himself to the specified chamber, where, to his
 
 126 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 utter mortification, he found that he had intruded into the pre.'^ence 
 of a personage ^yhom he had not the slightest inclination to meet. 
 
 There aresome persons who, though endued witli a spirit that 
 would resolutely encounter imminent dangers, are sometimes 
 affected by a sensation, Avhich, notwithstanding that it more gene- 
 rally subdues the hero than the coward, has in it a spice of fear 
 and a large measure of folly. And yet, in some instances, this 
 curious and painful feeling, which is popularly known by the title 
 of bashfulness, may be traced to an innate modesty, that not only 
 excuses, but even sanctifies, its manifestation. What a paradox 
 is its rubicund and singular confusion, glowing on the cheek of a 
 man of heart and sense, when the sufferer, if he refiect a moment, 
 knows that it is caused by the presence of a coxcomb, or the stare 
 of a doll! It was not, indeed, the vicinity of either of these in- 
 teresting characters, that, on liis entrance into the waiting-chamber, 
 provoked the confusion of Dick ; but as it was the eye of a lovely 
 ladv, by whom he ought to have felt his best energies aroused, 
 his bashfulness was ten degrees more criminal. 
 
 The lady, whom he suspected to be the mistress of Master 
 Henry, was attended by a female domestic, Avho, from the easi- 
 ness of her manner, appeared to be her confident also. She 
 seemed to be watching some one from the long window, which 
 looked into the garden, and her face was pallid, as though she 
 had been suffering from anxiety. She turned round as he entered 
 the room, and having surveyed him a moment, stepped hastily 
 towards him. 
 
 Dick shrank back abashed. 
 
 " I cry you mercy. Sir Page," said the young lady, " and cry 
 you mercy again, for venturing me on your path, Avhich, if Damon 
 be false to Sappho, and she send you in quest of the deceiver, 
 ought to be free of all other fair ones." 
 
 " Now, in good sooth," cried the other female, who acted in 
 the capacity of attendant to the first speaker, "in good sooth — 
 ha! ha! — is this a page, or a citizen's scrub? Marry, gaffer 
 maudlin, dost forget your manners? Doft'your churl's bonnet, 
 an* it please you, maudlin ! And how is it with my dame, 
 maudlin?" 
 
 " Hold thy peace, Clarissa," said the yoimg lady, gently. 
 " Thy prate will fuddle the boy, indeed." 
 
 " Nay, an* if it please you, fair lady," whispered the lady's 
 maid, " I warrant you I'll Avorm out his errand. Just hold you 
 your peace, sweet lady, and we'll soon hear if it be a love 
 matter." 
 
 " Now Mary Magdalen shield my fame," rejoined the young 
 lady. '■'■ Dost think I want to hear tales of citizen damsels ? Be- 
 shrew thee, Clarissa, would'st make thy lady's ear a receptacle 
 for such ill doings ? or sav, mistress, hast not a little curiosity in 
 the matter tiiysclf?"
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 127 
 
 Mistress Clarissa was a little pouted by this insinuation. " And 
 suppose, my lady," she said, " I did feel curious, which is not 
 my failing, I trow there's no harm done." 
 
 " Not," replied the lady, " if I be elsewhere." 
 " Then if it please you, fair lady," observed Dick, who had by 
 this time become ashamed of his bashfulness, and who was resolved 
 to make a bold stroke for a character — " I have come to Master 
 Henry on a matter of much moment, concerning no lady, but a 
 stout citizen, who has done him service. If your ladyship would 
 help me to speech with him, and that straight, I warrant he'd be 
 debted to you." 
 
 " Gramercy ! " replied the lady, " you speak the oily words of 
 
 a laced doublet. Sir Youth. But what " 
 
 The speaker stopped short, for hearing the latch of the door 
 uplifted, and turning her eyes in that direction, she encountered a 
 glance from Master Henry, the young cavalier, who, without any 
 other premonitory hint, inducted himself into the chamber. He 
 stepped forwards, with somewhat of a military air, to the window 
 where the young lady stood: but apparently determined not to 
 suffer any act of gallantry, and to show him that, whether she 
 had reason or not, she really was jealous, she glided from the 
 room by the opposite door. Master Henry, in spite of the oppo- 
 sition of Misti-ess Clarissa, who held his hands so firmly that not 
 even a threatened kiss could prevail on her to relinquish her 
 grasp, would certainly have pursued the fair fugitive to the gar- 
 den, which course, perhaps, would have been perfectly consonant 
 to that person's feelings ; but just at the moment that Clarissa's 
 tempting lips seemed resolved to submit to spoliation rather than 
 her mistress should sustain a similar inconvenience, and just at 
 the time that any other young gallant would have been provoked 
 to desjieration. Master Henry was pulled back by Dick. 
 
 " Marry ! " he cried, starting round, " what ill news? I sailed 
 in the bark myself as far as Green Wic, and she sailed thence 
 with a favouring breeze : so, without thou hast the wings of 
 Mercury, thou canst bring no tidings of the mariner." 
 
 " I bring tidings of one of his friends, your worship," said 
 Dick. 
 
 " Get you gone, saucy Clarissa," cried the cavalier, " and 
 without the guerdon which you sought so eagerly." 
 
 " Sought, indeed, Master Henry ! " replied the pouting Cla- 
 rissa. " Just as if I would allow you to kiss me!" 
 
 But thrusting a rose-noble into her hand — a coin wliich, even 
 if she had had any longing for such an infliction, amply compen- 
 sated for the threatened kiss — the cavalier pushed Clarissa out of 
 the room, and closing the door, locked and bolted it. 
 
 " And, my good boy," said Master Henry, when he had se- 
 cured the door, " what matter would you speak of? " 
 
 " Your worship," replied Dick, " Master Simon Racket, whom
 
 128 TUB LIFE AND TiMKS OF 
 
 von may know as the fiieiid of the mariner and the Jew me- 
 diciner, was tliis morning attached for treason." 
 
 " Treason ! " cried the cavalier. " Why, I always heard say, 
 both from his own mouth and the mouths of others, that he was 
 one of the Lancaster faction." 
 
 " Howbeit," returned Dick, " he is attached, your worship ; 
 and, as I think, by none of the government." 
 
 " I take you for a shrewd lad, my youth," observed the cava- 
 lier. " Prithee, then, in plain words, make me acquaint with this 
 mystery." 
 
 " Sir Cavalier," replied Dick, " you must know, though it ill- 
 beseems me to speak of such an affair to your worship. Master 
 Simon loves a damsel who is in the service of Dame Alice Fer- 
 rers, and in the same service he has an ill-favoured rival, who is 
 dispenser or steward to the Dame. Now I will take a book oath, 
 if it be needful, this rival w^as one of the three men who took him 
 off this morning; and the man who first arrested him, though he 
 was well guised, I know for one of Sir Alfred Sinclair's partisans, 
 and belike acting by his orders." 
 
 " Like enough," returned Master Henry. " But how would 
 you have me proceed?" 
 
 " Is your worship disposed?" enquired Dick. 
 
 " Surely," replied Master Henry, " if I knew how." 
 
 " Then, to speak sooth, your worship," replied Dick, " I think 
 Dame Alice Ferrers knows nothing of it. I am certain, too, they 
 have taken Master Simon to the Tower Real, where, if they can 
 hash up a charge against him, they will have him put in ward." 
 
 " My belief," said Master Henry, " is, they think to worm 
 from him the place of the mariner's hiding. Aha ! the fowler's 
 net is broken. Well, good youth, I will to the Tower Real 
 straight ; and as I may require your testimony, you had better 
 company me. Bide here a moment." 
 
 The cavalier quitted the room, and after an absence of a few 
 moments, which Dick passed in brushing himself down with the 
 cuff of his gaberdine, and otherwise renovating the complexion of 
 his worn habiliments, returned, wearing over his left shoulder a 
 short cloak of red velvet, fringed with gold, and having on his 
 head a black bonnet, set with a single feather in a gold cincture. 
 He pulled his girdle, to which a long cut-and-thrust sword was 
 attached, a little tighter than was necessary ; but as a fine figure 
 was then, as it may be still, a great advantage to an aspiring gal- 
 lant, this slight outbreak of vanity does not merit reproof.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. THE PROCLAMATION. 
 
 OF THE SEARCH WHICH DICK WHITTINGTON INSTITUTED FOR 
 MASTER SIMON RACKET AND MIRIAM SALMON, AND OF ITS 
 RESULT. 
 
 Woman, in her proper and natural sphere — which is the quiet 
 round of domestic duties — is gentle, tender, attentive, and fond. 
 She is the cynosure of a happy hearth, the cordial balm of an 
 anxious bosom, the ministering angel of a sick pillow, and, under 
 prosperity or calamity, the same constant and devoted being. But 
 if she be once roused — if her quiescent spirit be brought, by 
 sudden agitation, into forced and unnatural action — she is no 
 longer the soft, timid, passive creature that she seemed, but an 
 obstinate, infuriate, and dauntless Amazon. Her frankness re- 
 volves into cunning ; her tenderness, timidity, and passiveness 
 disappear ; and like the Avorm, when it bursts the living tomb 
 of its dormant state, she assumes a new shape — is obdurate, 
 daring, and active, till, with the moth, she becomes giddy with 
 her own fluttering, and ])recipitates herself on the very object which 
 is to reduce her to ashes. To a woman, thrown into this piorbid 
 condition, and who had been used to gratify, at any hazard, her 
 every desire, the chronicler has now to lead his hero. 
 
 Dick Whittington followed Master Henry Sinclair from the 
 chamber of Leaden Hall, and was not sorry, on reaching the street, 
 to see him turn into a side-lane, Avhich led them past the back 
 of Master Fitzwarren's house. Just as they attained the front 
 of the Tower Real, and while Dick was fearing that they would 
 be repulsed by the portgrave, or porter, they observed the Jew 
 mediciner forth issuing thence. His appearance, at this critical 
 moment, reassured Dick, Avho was beginning to despond ; and 
 though the Jew^ took no other notice of him than to beckon him 
 on, and entered into earnest discourse with Master Henry, whom 
 he led without the slightest opposition into the court of the Tower, 
 Dick thought that his face bespoke a calmness that, had Miriam 
 been still missing, he could not have assumed. His mind was 
 therefore more easy on that subject, and the presence of two such 
 coadjutors as the Jew and Master Henry, and the hope that their
 
 130 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 united exertions would effect the liberation of his friend, revived 
 that firmness of purpose which, from the commencement to the 
 close of his eventful career, formed so prominent a feature in his 
 character. 
 
 The Jew, who seemed to be well known to all the domestics 
 and gari-ison, introduced his two companions into the hall of the 
 Tower, and thence, up a capacious stone stair, into an ante- cham- 
 ber. He then tapped at the door of the adjoining apartment, 
 and a domestic, who answered the summons, invited them to enter. 
 
 They now found themselves in the presence of Dame Alice 
 Pen-ers, who, on their entrance, half rose from the dais on which 
 she had been seated, and commanded the domestics to withdraw. 
 She then glanced more attentively at Master Henry, and, from a 
 smile which stole over her face, appeared to be exceedingly pleased 
 with his exterior. 
 
 '' You should give me notification. Sir Mediciner," she said, 
 " before you bring courtiers to my poor bower. Though I am 
 waxing old — being now past thirty — I have yet a woman's failing 
 in respect to the captivation of noble hearts." 
 
 This confession, though apparently made to the Jew, was really 
 addressed to Master Henry, who, being as fair speaking a gallant 
 as might well be, replied in a suitable manner. But whether, 
 knowing the lady to be at least forty years of age, he was so 
 fascinated by her beauty as to forget that trifling particular, or 
 whether, ignorant of what was familiar to every one else, he really 
 expressed his absolute belief, this much is certain, that with an 
 air in which surprise was blended with admiration, he avowed his 
 thorough and inflexible conviction that the lady had not yet 
 passed the rubicon of twenty-five. Flattery, modest and pure as 
 may be the recipient's heart, is never too gross for a female ear ; 
 for though a compliment may elicit no favour, it cannot naturally 
 offend, and consequently, notwithstandins: that she must have 
 formed a very moderate opinion of his judgment if she believed 
 him, Dame Alice Ferrers instantly resolved to be better ac- 
 quainted with the flatterer. 
 
 "■ You play the gallant early," she said, with a smile. " But 
 what business, Sir Mediciner, has brought you so soon back 
 again ? And now you are here, why do you stand so mute ? " 
 
 " This cavalier, my lady, can tell you more fully than I," re- 
 plied the mediciner. 
 
 The lady immediately turned to Master Henry, who, after a few 
 prefator}' compliments, made her acquainted with the several 
 suspicions which he had derived from Dick Whittington, and 
 which, as coming from himself, he assured her rested on warrant- 
 able grounds. 
 
 *' This is an aggravation of the outrage on your dwelling, Sir 
 Mediciner," said the lady, whose rage" had scarcely suffered her 
 to wait the close of the cavalier's communication. " By the living
 
 DICK WHITTIKGTON'. 131 
 
 God ! " she added, recovering her breath, which the impatience 
 of her speech had broken, *' by the hving God, I say, these fel- 
 lows shall rue their toil ! So ho, there ! " and she stepped, with 
 a brisk yet stately pace, to the chamber door, which, to the utter 
 terror of Dick, who was standing beside it, and whom she did not 
 seem to notice, she kicked rather than flung open, " Warders, 
 guards, there ! Treason ! " 
 
 The last startling word the lady uttered at the pitch of her 
 voice, and its effect on the domestics and the garrison, who 
 straightway crowded into the adjoining chamber, was wonderful. 
 The lady herself presented such a picture of passion, wrought up 
 to such a fearful intensity, that Master Henry began to feel ap- 
 prehensive for her health, and, with the view of striving to smooth 
 her temper, pressed forward to speak to her ; but the Jew, who 
 had hitherto stood calm and composed, Avith his brawny arms 
 folded across his breast, as though he were an unconcerned spec- 
 tator of the scene, drew him back. 
 
 "Bring Rudleigh, my dispenser, here," cried the lady; "but 
 let him be ironed well. Sir Warders ! Hark you, in your ear. Sir 
 Portgrave," — and as he drew near she whispered to the person 
 Avhom she had bidden advance. 
 
 When the portgrave, the Avarders, the guards, and the other 
 fimctionaries, military and domestic, whom Dame Alice Perrers 
 had so abruptly summoned to her presence, and whom she had 
 Avith equal abruptness dismissed, had all retired to execute her 
 will, that lovely yet passionate lady, rendered more furious by the 
 consciousness that she was exposing her emotion, paced the room 
 with short and hasty strides, without once raising her eyes from 
 the floor. In a few moments, however, two of the warders re- 
 turned, dragging in the unfortimate dispenser, and leading forward 
 Master Simon Racket, whom, as it afterwards appeared, they had 
 found immured in one of the Tower dimgeons. It was a full 
 minute before the lady, who stood glaring at the fettered steward 
 from his first entrance, could so far repress her passion as to give 
 it expression, and Master Henry and Dick, and perhaps her own 
 domestics, awaited her speech with no small anxiety. 
 
 "I charged you. Sir Dispenser," she said at length, "to sufiler 
 no harm to come to this worthy mediciner here. If he be a Jew, 
 he hath done good service to our Lord the King, and has the 
 special protection of his Highness. I charged you to be kindly 
 in your dealings with the citizens, as his Grace of Lancaster seeks 
 to appease them. Spite of this," she added, after a considerable 
 pause, during which she seemed to be making a great effort to at- 
 tain composure, "though I sent you, last night, expressly to 
 shield the Jev\', you suflTered his house to be hostilely compassed. 
 Now, to crown all, you bring a peaceful citizen here — here, sir, — 
 prison him in my castle — for no other matter than that he crossed 
 thy path."
 
 132 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 *' Lady ! " supplicated the trembling steward. 
 *' Here, sir, here," cried the enraged lady, "to my castle — 
 you brino- him to the Tower Real — a peaceful citizen ! Sancte 
 Georf e ! Ihall I be bearded in my own palace, by my own dog of 
 a vassal?" 
 
 " Lady, hear me a moment " 
 
 "Trembling hound, peace! Be bearded here, eh? — in my 
 own towers ? Marry 'tis a quaint conceit enough ! " 
 
 " But, noble lady," cried the culprit, '^ I bearded you not — 
 heaven forefend I should." 
 
 " Aa', av," said Dame Alice Ferrers, " thou'dst better talk 
 of Heaven' Make tb.y peace, friend. For pity there, fellows, 
 liave you no skulking frere in the Tower Real — no Jesuit to shrive 
 
 this penitent wretch. Come, I will play confessor " 
 
 " Lady — lady, pray hear " 
 
 " Now by my hope of peace," shouted Dame Alice, stamping 
 on the floor whh her left foot, and striking her small white hand 
 on the embrasure of the Avindow till the blood gushed out, " if 
 thou wert ten degrees less vile than thou art, and the king's high- 
 ness were kneeling there to beg thee grace, I v/ould not swerve a 
 hair. By the hand of royal Edward — whom our Lady shield ! — 
 thou slialt pay the forfeit, and pay it to a mite. I have trusted 
 thee, caitiff — thought thee loyal ; and thou, poor wretch, hast 
 thought me a mere Avoman. Count up thy sins, reckon thy mis- 
 deeds, Avash thy conscience clean Avith afcAv salt tears, and prepare 
 for the judgment." 
 
 At this moment the portgrave entered. 
 " Have you raised the gibbet ? " demanded the lady. 
 " Yes, my lady." 
 
 " Off" Avitii him', then ! To the gibbet Avith him ! Zounds ! am 
 I to speak tAvice, knaves ? To the gibbet Avith him ! " 
 
 " For heaven's sake ! " cried Master Henry, " for your OAvn 
 
 sake, most lovely ladv " 
 
 "By God, he shall die!" shouted the lady. "Off, off^Avith 
 
 him ! To the gibbet, I say ! to the gib " 
 
 But tlie paroxysm of passion AA-as noAv exhausted, and as she 
 stepped forAvard, Avith arms outstretched, to enforce the execution 
 of her orders, she fell back into the arms of Master Henry, Avho, 
 Avhile the Jcav directed all the company, saA'c a female domestic, 
 to withdraAv, carried her into an alcove at the extremity of the 
 chamber, and extended her on a Ioav couch. Dick Whittington, 
 bring one of the company expelled, did not see the issue of the 
 lady's hysterics, nor did he tarry to inquire; but, being noAV at 
 ease in respect to ISIaster Simon, he determined to push on to 
 Aldgatc, and see if he could learn anytliing of Miriam. 
 
 He Avas not long in tia versing tlic intermediate distance. He 
 kicked against the door, Avhich appeared to be secured in the usual 
 manner, and Avas liailed by a voice that he recognised at once as 
 Miriam's,
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 133 
 
 " 'Tis I, Dick Whittington, fair mistress," he said, and the 
 door was straightway opened. 
 
 " So, mistress," he continued, as he entered the passage, " you 
 have been playing the truant ? " 
 
 Miriam smiled. 
 
 " You were not forced or cajoled away, then ? " asked Dick, 
 on reaching the upper chambei'. 
 
 " Suppose I say no ? " 
 
 " Nay, and you say no, I must then think you were not." 
 
 " And suppose," said Miriam, " I say a young page, arrayed 
 in velvet and gold, and bearing in his bonnet a white plume, 
 carried me off, — Mhat would you say then ? " 
 
 " 'Twere strange." 
 
 " But true," added Miriam. " Dame Alice Ferrers, hearing of 
 the attack on our dwelling, sent her page for me this morning ; 
 and I was led to her bedside, before she arose, that I might relate 
 the particulars." 
 
 *' But might not another have taken you forth as thus?" 
 
 " Trust me, good Dickon, no. The secrets of the great, what- 
 ever they be, are not to be divulged; but this much I may tell 
 you, though I would not another, that my father is bounden to 
 Dame Ferrers, and she to him, and they have tokens and pass- 
 words between them." 
 
 " Enough, mistress," rejoined Dick, " I Avas careful only for 
 your behoof." 
 
 " Thanks, Dickon," replied the other. " Thou hast a kind 
 heart, being a Christian, to care for one of my faith." 
 
 " Nay, nay," returned Dick, whose cheeks crimsoned as he 
 remembered his original prejudice against the Jew. " If I cared, 
 not for those who cared for me, even though they were paynims, 
 I were no Christian, But what says that paper, mistress ? If I 
 he not deceived, seeing you fold it so carefully, it must be of 
 moment." 
 
 " It is a song, Dickon; one which my sire loves well to hear, 
 but which has no charm for Christians." 
 
 " If it would please you, good mistress " 
 
 " AVell, well, you shall hear it, then," interrupted Miriam ; 
 and taking up a dulcimer which lay on the table, she accompa- 
 nied its notes with the following song. 
 
 'S'mig oi j^lirtam. 
 
 Sons of Judsea, who ever of yore, 
 
 Were disjiosed with the free and the bold, 
 Dead is the spirit that upward did soar 
 
 O'er the crest of the tyrauts of old ! 
 Ah, yom' name is ne'er breathed where 'twas sung heretofore, 
 Where the Jordan sweeps round the tall sycamore, 
 Where the slaves of the bearded Philistine deplore 
 
 The sad story their poets have told !
 
 134 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Green look your valleys, and ripe seems the vine, 
 
 But the temple of Solomon's low ! 
 Zion looks fair, as the lorn pilgrim's shrine, 
 
 But her helm bears the flag of the foe ! 
 And the olive trees, too, where your maids would recline, 
 And awaken their voices in chorus divine. 
 Or to love's softer music a moment incline — 
 
 Now the Moslem rej)oses below ! 
 
 " 'Tis a doleful lay, mistress," remarked Dick, " but sweetly 
 carolled." 
 
 Miriam smiled. 
 
 " I fear me," continued Dick, " I shall have to learn the gay 
 science soon ; for I know not how my master will regard this long 
 truancy of mine, and, if he turn me off, I must get bread some 
 way. " 
 
 Miriam rose and quitted the room, and, before Dick had 
 ceased wondering what had led her forth, returned, bearing a small 
 tray, on which, to his perfect surprise, he immediately descried 
 some inviting eatables. 
 
 " Eat," said Miriam. 
 
 " I broke not my fast yet," said Dick. He tried to eat, but he 
 could not swallow the food, and he gave up the attempt. 
 
 " Fret not," said Miriam. " He cannot turn you off, Dick. 
 My sire and Master Simon will tell him how you have been 
 doing." 
 
 " I dare not return till they do so," said Dick. 
 
 *' Why, surely Mistress Alice will befriend you ? " 
 
 " Belike," returned Dick, " but then she may be abroad." 
 
 Dick, in fact, was cogitating on the sort of reception which he 
 was likely to meet from Dame Williams, and the prospect was by 
 no means calculated to exhilarate his spirits, wliich, throughout 
 the three preceding days, had been subjected to unusual excite- 
 ment. This brown study, however, was interrupted by a knocking 
 at the outer door, and while Miriam descended to answer the 
 summons, he strove to regain his almost-habitual composure. In 
 this he partly succeeded ; and when the mediciner and Master 
 Simon Racket, whom he heard in the passage below, entered the 
 chamber with Miriam, he was prepared to receive them. 
 
 " Come along, Dickon," said Master Simon. " I have ac- 
 counted to Master Fitzwarren for your absence, and he has given 
 orders that none shall question you. I have come to see you 
 home." 
 
 Dick instantly rose, and having taken leave of Miriam and her 
 fatlier, and thanked them for the interest which they took in his 
 welfare, quitted the house with Master Simon. 
 
 As they passed down Aldgate, which was crowded with wains 
 and pedestrians, their attention was suddenly arrested by the ring- 
 ing of a bell, which, as Master Simon informed Dick, was the 
 
 I
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 135 
 
 preliminary to a proclamation by the city crier. That functionary, 
 unfortunately, was rather diminutive in stature, and consequently, 
 was not visible in the crowd which had congregated about him ; 
 but by dint of pressing forward whenever an opportunity offered, 
 and then raising himself on tip-toe, Dick had a tolerable view of 
 him. He was dressed in an enormous great coat of scarlet cloth, 
 profusely decorated with black worsted, and apparently, con- 
 sidering its immense capacity, designed for the piirpose of 
 engendering suffocation. The perspiration streamed down the 
 poor fellow's face — at least down that portion of his face which an 
 umbrageous cocked hat did not immure ; but, notwithstanding all 
 these discouraging circumstances, he appeared to wear a bold and 
 important front. His proclamation, which he delivered in a shi'ill 
 and dissonant tone of voice, was to the effect, that on the third day 
 thence, the mayor, aldermen, and freemen of the city, in obedience 
 to the commands of the King's highness, would walk in procession 
 to the churcli of St Paul, and there, at the altar's foot, disclaim 
 all enmity to the Duke of Lancaster. Then, in the abundance of 
 his grace, renewing his confidence in the good faith of his loyal 
 citizens of London, the King would graciously restore their sus- 
 pended charter ; and, as theretofore, the city would he governed 
 by its own mayor. A murmur, expressive of their discontent 
 with the conditions, arose from the crowd, who, however, Avere 
 dispersing quietly, when a gaily-dressed cavalier, having the ap- 
 pearance of a courtier, asked one of them what he was looking 
 black about. 
 
 " Marry, brave sir," replied the frightened citizen, " 'tis my 
 accustomed look. Prithee, rebuke me not for my looks." 
 
 " Begone, thou churl ! " said the courtier, thrusting him back 
 with the point of his sheathed rapier. 
 
 The speaker turned round, and thus confronted Master Simon, 
 who, without the slightest intention of giving offence, was indulg- 
 ing in the sober and reasonable gratification of scratching his head. 
 
 " Are you scratching your head at me, sir?" demanded the 
 courtier, fiercely. 
 
 " If it please your valiancie " 
 
 " Varlet ! do you bandy words ?" cried the courtier, in a great 
 rage. " Body o' me, sir ! do you scratch your head at me, sir ? " 
 
 " What if I confess ? " asked Master Simon. 
 
 " Then will I run you through the gizzard," replied the cour- 
 tier, in a less decisive tone. 
 
 " Have at you, then ! " said Master Simon. " If it please your 
 knighthood — for I take you for an ale-knight — I am scratching 
 my head at your valourship. Now, sir, remember your allonge. 
 Soh ! — " and Master Simon drew. 
 
 " Shame ! shame ! " cried the spectators. " What, ho ! a brawl 
 here in open day? Part 'em ! part 'em !" 
 
 These hints of the possibility of popular interference, which
 
 136 TUB LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 some-cvliat tlisooiiraged Master Simon, only tended to make the 
 courtier more furious ; for thoug;]!, at tlie onset, he turned pale, 
 and seemed to shrink from his opponent, he became quite heroic 
 Avhen lie was seized by three of the bystanders, who, so determined 
 was he to resent the insult which he had received, could hardly 
 hold him back. Many men, when placed in a similar situation, 
 have recovered the courage which the mere sight of a naked 
 weapon had previously put to flight ; and the courtier, by a liberal 
 dispensation of blasphemous oaths, and an increasing struggle for 
 freedom, when, as he well knew, he was beyond the reach of his 
 adversary, impressed many of the bystanders with a high opinion 
 of his spirit and prowess. Master Simon, on the contrary, walked 
 quietly away with Dick, inwardly regretting that his passionate 
 temper had precipitated him into so untoward an adventure. 
 
 They soon reached the house of Master Fitzwarren, and Dick, 
 on his entrance into the kitchen, was surprised to find Dame 
 Williams disposed to affability.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTOrr. 137 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. THE PAGEANT. 
 
 OF THE ENCOUNTER OF DICK WHITTINGTON WITH A CERTAIN 
 
 ALE-KNIGHT OF THE GALLANTRY OF DICK, AND THE MA- 
 
 NffiUVRE OF MISTRESS ALICE FITZWARREN OF THE PAGEANT 
 
 OF THE CITIZENS OF THE POLITICAL ENTHUSIASM OF MAS- 
 TER SIMON RACKETT OF A MYSTERIOUS AND UNEXPECTED 
 
 SUMMONS WHICH DICK RECEIVES. 
 
 In vain did Dick Whittington set sundry brick traps, garnished 
 with burnt clieese and other choice delicacies, with a view to the 
 more comfortable accommodation of the numerous visitors to his 
 garret, for notwithstanding that the top brick of the trap rested on 
 a slender stick, which Avas ingeniously contrived to give way on 
 the first introduction of an inmate, and albeit that a savoui-y 
 morsel, exposed in the bottom of the trap, embodied an invitation 
 which few rats could resist ; — there was, nevertheless, something 
 in the construction of the trap which those shrewd animals re- 
 garded with suspicion; and if any one of them, more rash or less 
 timid than others, approached its brink, and regaled his nostrils 
 with the balmy and refreshing fragrance that issued therefrom, 
 there was such a Bastile-like look about the whole affair that the 
 adventurer usually retired. 
 
 Two or three old depredators, whose greediness and luxurious 
 habits led them beyond the bounds of prudence, and whose remains 
 were found by Dick at the bottom of the several traps, were ex- 
 posed as examples to their erring generation ; but whether their 
 bodies were removed for the purpose of decent interment, or 
 whether they were devoured in mistake l)y their afflicted relatives, 
 it is certain that Dick missed them the next morning. This cir- 
 cumstance, which, if the first conjecture be correct, showed the 
 pitch of civilization to which the rat community had arrived, only 
 incited Dick to increased exertions ; but as he had now no feline 
 coadjutor, and was therefore obliged to depend exclusively on his 
 own right arm, he was soon convinced that he was unequal to the 
 task. Necessity, however, which is said to be the mother of in- 
 vention, developed, and then exercised to this end, that power of 
 reflection which he possessed in an eminent degree, and which, 
 though its thousand mouths are always silent to some persons, 
 constitutes the artillery of the human mind.
 
 138 THB LIFE AND TIMES. OF 
 
 He had intended, on receiving the gratuity which Master 
 Henrv liad presented him, to purchase another cat ; but when, on 
 searching liis pocket, he found that he had lost the coin, he was 
 induced both to relinquish this intention, and to affect that abstract 
 comfort under adverse fate which so well becomes a philosophic 
 frame of mind. 
 
 On the second evening from the departure of the * Unicorn,' at 
 a little after sunset, he was ordered to attend Mistress Alice Fitz- 
 warren, who was about to take an airing on horseback. From 
 his earliest childhood, and particularly during the latter years of 
 his residence at Taunton-Deans, he had been familiar with the 
 routine of the stable ; and being of an assiduous and inquiring 
 disposition, and having little else to employ him, had made him- 
 self intimate with everything relating to the proper treatment of 
 horses. He was therefore well qualified for the post of groom to 
 his young mistress, and but for his dress, which was rather mean, 
 would have made a respectable equerry. He soon equipped the 
 palfrey, which he furnished with a side-saddle, — an article that 
 had recently been introduced into England, to the great disparage- 
 ment of the good old custom of ladies riding astride. He then 
 led the palfrey to the front of the house, and awaited the coming 
 of its fair proprietor. 
 
 Mistress Alice Avas soon ready. Dick doffed his hood as he 
 assisted her from the montoir, or stepping stone, to the saddle ; 
 and — as who Avould not under similar circumstances? — having 
 his wits about him, thought that it was a marvellous proper 
 foot Avhich he helped to the stirrup. „He trotted along by the side 
 of the horse, with a long check-rein in his hand, thinking himself 
 exalted by his office ; and certainly, as he passed down Cheapside, 
 he seemed to be envied by no few of the passengers. And then, 
 now and anon, the playful palfrey would attempt a sort of demi- 
 volte, as though he were in good sooth a knightly steed ; and 
 then Mistress Alice would look pale, and, after correcting the 
 horse's pace, Dick would reassure her. Then some grave old 
 citizens, as they passed along on the causeway, would shake their 
 heads, because they considered the adoption of the side-saddle an 
 invasion of old-established and venerable institutions ; and then 
 some gay cavalier, wlio jostled the grave old citizen out of his 
 nath, would swear by Sancte George that the damsel rode gal- 
 lantly, and that, if she did not alter strangely, she would one day 
 be worth knowing ; and then some gay young sparks would stare, 
 as gay young sparks generally do, and, if they caught the eye of 
 Mistress Alice, doff their bonnets ; and then some bold young 
 * 'prentice, playing truant, would think, " Marry, but yon youth 
 has fine times of 't ; " and then the young ladies who were look- 
 ing out of tlie upper casements of the houses, and the old ladies 
 who were gossiping in the street, and all the softer sex who had 
 the least glimpse of the fair equestrian, would say, " in sooth, my
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. - 139 
 
 young dame has come out to sliow herself— psha ! such a bag- 
 gage ; " and then — But Mistress Alice and Dick passed them all. 
 
 " And what place is this, fair mistress ? " asked Dick, as 
 they reached a lonely Avooden bridge that crossed a small river, 
 which, about half a mile lower down, ran into the Thames. 
 
 He asked the question, not so much from curiosity as a wish 
 to arrest the progress of his mistress, for he had observed, with 
 some alarm, that they had been dogged a considerable distance 
 by a suspicious-looking man, whose slouched hat and shoulder 
 cloak were arranged with a view to disguise ; and he hoped that, 
 if his mistress remained a few moments on the bridge, this person 
 would pass on. 
 
 " This is Old Bourne bridge, Dick," replied Mistress Alice. 
 " That little streamlet there is the Old Bourne of the city ; and 
 this river is the Fleet, where the fishers bring their fish. Yonder 
 gate there is Old Bourne bars, where the lazars are. That hill is 
 called Old Bourne hill. At your back is Smooth Field, where 
 the King holds his tourneys, and the citizens their sports. Yon 
 old grey building, down by the Thames, is the monastery of the 
 Black Friars (whom our Lady help !) ; and this straight road 
 here," — she pointed up Holborn hill — " leads you to the hospital 
 of Sancte Giles, builded by a good queen of old, whose name I 
 disremember." 
 
 " I thank you kindly, good mistress," said Dick. " 'Tis a 
 pleasant place." 
 
 " Beshrew thy heart. Sir Groom!" cried a voice behind them. 
 " How durst thou prate where thy betters be silent ! Ugh ! how 
 thou smell'st of the stable ! — So ho, fair mistress ! can you do us 
 a cai'acol ? Can you play us a demivolt ? " 
 
 " Thou hadst best hold thy peace, Sir Cavalier," said Dick, 
 placing himself between his mistress and the intruder. " Thy 
 speech comports not with a gentle bearing, though thy apparel 
 may." 
 
 " Beshrew thee for a foul-mouthed and scurvy young knave ! " 
 shouted the stranger. " And thou takest dudgeon at the bravery 
 of my tongue, and darest therefore to give me mouth, I will 
 requite thee with a cudgel. Ho you, fair mistress ! " he con- 
 tinued, taking hold of the palfrey's bridle, " wilt dismount a 
 space ? " 
 
 " I thank you, gallant sir," replied Mistress Alice, endeavour- 
 ing to assume composure, " but I am for home." 
 
 And she gave the rein a sudden jerk, which threw off" the loose 
 hold of the stranger, and her steed sprang into the road. Dick, 
 who was as much surprised at this manoeuvre as the stranger, 
 made an attempt to follow, but before he could get clear of the 
 bridge, he received a blow which prostrated him. A loud cry 
 from Mistress Alice, who had turned round to see if he followed 
 her, brought out the inmates of a small tenement on the hill j
 
 ]40 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 and the stranger, seeing theui run clown, thonglit to make off. 
 Diek, liOAVcver, caught him by the kg. 
 
 '' Tuny awhile, Master Rudleigh," he cried. " Tarry awhile, 
 I prithee." 
 
 J3ut Master Rudleigh drew up his foot, and then kicked it back 
 against Dick's breast, and having thus enlarged himself, took a 
 hastv leave. Dick instantly sprang to his feet, and notwithstand- 
 ing that Mistress Alice, who now turned back to the bridge, 
 called to him to retire, took up a large flint stone from the road, 
 and hurled it with mathematical precision at his retreating an- 
 tagonist. The missile knocked off his hat, but Master Rudleigh 
 caught that piece of personal furniture in his hands, and without 
 once looking back, continued his retreat. He had, indeed, no 
 time to lose, for two stout fishermen, Avhom INIistress Alice's alarm 
 had brought from the aforementioned cottage, had nearly reached 
 the bridge. As Mistress Alice, however, was some time explain- 
 ing to the fishermen the nature of the outrage, and as she offered 
 them no guerdon to pursue him, he reached Ludgate hill without 
 interruption, and disappeared. The two fishermen also retired, 
 and Mistress Alice and Dick followed their examjile. 
 
 " Certes, Dick," observed Mistress Alice, " but you liave a 
 most courageous spirit. Only that you happed on such a sound 
 beating, and in my service, I could loff to think how you turned 
 round on that ale-knight." 
 
 " Ay, my misti-ess," replied Dick, " 'twere a loifing matter." 
 " You disposed of your munition with a right good aim," 
 laughed Mistress Alice. 
 
 " I' faith," replied Dick, " I spoiled the exactness of his 
 l>onnet." 
 
 " And what am I to give you for a recompense?" asked the 
 young lady. 
 
 " If it would pleasure you to give me that rose from your cap," 
 said Dick, " I would be more than recompensed." 
 
 " Thou hast asked but a small one," rejoined the young lady, 
 taking the rose from her cap, and presenting it to him. 
 
 Dick made a low obeisance as he accepted the flower, which he 
 placed in his l>onnet, forgetting at the time that it completely ob- 
 scured the glory of the Virgin Mary, Avliose effigy, as has been 
 l)efore noted, was there installed. 
 
 They soon reached home, and having assisted Mistress Alice to 
 the montoir, and disposed of her palffey, Dick repaired to the 
 abode of his friend the mediciner. 
 
 The next morning, being a general holiday, Dick rose with the 
 first dawn, so that he might be a1)le to f\dfil his several duties 
 la-fore the hour of breaking fiist ; and notwithstanding that he had 
 to encounter considerable opposition from his old friend the cook, 
 who varied tlie monotony of his labours with sundry cuffs on his 
 ear, he effected this desirable end. He then ascended to his garret,
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 141 
 
 in order to put himself in proper trim for a walk ; and though he 
 had no change of apparel, and the little which he possessed had 
 lost its primitive complexion, there was a neatness about him 
 Avhich, with his fine frank countenance and handsome person, 
 made up for the meanness of his array. There is a dignity which 
 a laced doublet cannot impart — a freedom of limb that is some- 
 times seen in tattered hose, a boldness of contour, masculine 
 and full, that, at least in a female's eye, is more elegant than a 
 jerkin of velvet, and all these natural attractions — which may be 
 said, in the generality of instances, to mark the peers of nature — 
 were, without his being conscious of it, possessed by Dick Whit- 
 tington. Strange, that to the rich and powerful, by Avhom one 
 would suppose them to be inherited from a long line of noble 
 ancestors, nature sliould often deny these excellencies, and, in the li- 
 berality of her fickleness, confer them on the low-born and obscure ! 
 
 As i)ick descended the stairs, on his way to the street, he en- 
 countered Mistress Alice. 
 
 " Give you good morrow, Dickon," said the young lady. 
 " Gramercy ! is that the rose which I gave you last eve ? " 
 
 " No other, fair mistress," replied Dick. 
 
 " Why, 'tis as fresh as when 'twas plucked." 
 
 " Nay, nay, mistress," rejoined Dick. " I kept it in Avater all 
 night, and watered it fresh this morning, but it has lost its sweet 
 scent." 
 
 " And you are going to sport it in your bonnet to-day ? " asked 
 Mistress Alice. '' In sooth, Dick, your bravery costs you dear." 
 
 " Only a beating and a lofF, mistress. Who would deport him 
 not the same for the same meed ?" 
 
 " Not many, I ween," replied the young lady. " But if you be 
 bound for Paul's church, and wish to have a good view of the 
 pageant, you had best hasten you. Away ! " she added, smiling, 
 and Dick accordingly departed. 
 
 How the bells were dinging in the weary ear, and how the cits 
 were crowding towards the venerable cathedral of St Paul's ! 
 What gay holiday clothes, what lovely damsels, what staid old 
 citizens, what gay young gallants, what swearing, tearing, over- 
 bearing cavaliers did Dick's eyes contemplate ! And then what 
 a cry, what a flourish of trumpets, when the ancient and honour- 
 able train-bands, dressed in their gorgeous attire, and mounted on 
 their stately steeds — all sturdy citizens, with plumed caps and 
 moustachios, Avitli bold hearts and a martial bearing — what a cry, 
 what a flourish of trumpets, what a beating of drums when they 
 rode down Cheapside on tlieir way to the cathedral ! Such a 
 cheer as Avas given for the ancient and honourable train-bands, 
 and such a salute as the ancient and honourable train-bands 
 returned, and such a waving of kerchiefs from bright-eyed 
 damsels, and such a "God save you, brave citizens !" from the 
 old women, and such a discussion among the loAver orders, as to
 
 142 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 whether the citizens ought to submit to the Duke, when they had 
 the ancient and honourable train-bands to fight for them ; — such a 
 confusion of voices, sounds, and sentiments, Dick had never before 
 heard. 
 
 Just as he turned into St Paul's church yard, where the crowd, 
 if possible, was more dense than in Cheapside, some one behind 
 him pulled the collar of his gaberdine, and, on turning round, he 
 espied Master Simon Racket. 
 
 " Catch my frock in your hand, Dick," said Master Simon, 
 who was dressed in his best, and who wore such an enormous 
 red rose in his bonnet, that, even in Dick's eyes, he stood convicted 
 as a bragging Lancastrian. " Push on after me, despite of kicks 
 and cuffs," and you shall have a good view." 
 
 And aAvay they pushed, to the no small amusement of Dick, 
 who, being behind, escaped with an occasional poke in the back ; 
 while Master Simon, who had to edge his way through the crowd, 
 was presented in his progress with divers tokens of remembrance 
 from those whom he displaced. Some of these persons, indeed, 
 reached their arms over two or three heads, and then struck 
 Master Simon Avith their bats, having, perhaps, intentions hostile 
 to his red rose ; but Dick, by stooping down and fitting his head 
 into the cavity of Master Simon's back, received his share of 
 their thumps on his shoulders. Master Simon's aphorism, which 
 he Avas constantly infusing into Dick's mind — " perseverance 
 accomplisheth many things" — Avas never, perhaps, more com- 
 pletely exemplified than on this occasion ; for though they had to 
 sustain buffets and kicks innumerable, and in many places to pro- 
 pel themselves against obstinate personal resistance, they perse- 
 vered till they gained an easy and desirable station by the grand 
 porch of the cathedral. They had still an hour to Avait, but the 
 scene Avas so neAv to him, and he Avas so sure of having everything 
 explained by his friend, that Dick's patience stood proof. 
 
 The noble cathedral, indeed, Avell repaid an hour's study. The 
 old edifice, which Avas roofed Avith Avood, had been destroyed by 
 the great conflagration in the year 1008 ; and the existing church 
 had been founded by Maurice, Bishop of London, in the reign of 
 William Rufus. This enterprising ecclesiastic, hoAvever, laid the 
 foundations only, and these were on a scale so extensive, that 
 though he continued the work for a period of twenty years, at the 
 expiration of Avhich he died, yet, as the ancient historian observes, 
 " hvjus laboriosi operis impensam, traiismissit ad jwsteris," he left 
 the completion of his laborious work to posterity. The body of 
 the church, the transverse aisles, the choir, and the towering 
 steeple, Avcre, during the i-eign of Henry the Third, erected through 
 the exertions of Roger Niger, Avho, in order to aAvaken the devotion 
 of the people, granted an indulgence for forty days to all those 
 who contributed to the undertaking. But though letters hortatory, 
 inviting the co-operation of the laity, were Vritten by several
 
 DICK WHITTINGTOX. 143 
 
 consecutive Archbishops of Canterbury, and notwithstanding that 
 Simon, a cardinal of Rome, promised one hundred days' release 
 to all who complied Avith these letters, it was a long time before 
 the magnificent structure assumed a finished aspect. At length 
 however, it was completed, and then it measured in length six 
 hundred and ninety feet; in breadth, one himdred and thirty 
 feet ; the height of the roof one hundred and two feet ; the 
 height of the tower steeple two hundred and eighty-six feet ; and 
 the ball above the head of the spire, says Sir William Dugdale, 
 "was so large that it would contain within it ten bushels of 
 corn." 
 
 After Dick had closely inspected this interesting edifice, which 
 was associated with the earliest epochs in the history of his country, 
 he informed his friend of the assault that on the previous evening 
 he had sustained from Master Rudleigh. 
 
 " I' faith," said Master Simon, with a face as red as the rose that 
 marked his faction, " if I fall on him he shall account for it." 
 
 " How did he 'scape the gibbet, fair sir ? " asked Dick. 
 
 "Gramerc}'!" said Master Simon, "though he deserved no 
 better end, I was much afeard of his being hanged. You must 
 know, Dickon, Dame Ferrers in her rage cared not whether she 
 wronged the law of its due or no ; but when she came to her 
 reason, after two or three fits of histories — so the mediciner spoke 
 them — she simply ordained Master Rudleigh to be well soused, 
 and then, with two gentle kicks, ejected from the Tower Real." 
 
 " He deserved as much," returned Dick. " I wish I were a 
 man, and I Avould requite him his reckoning Avitli me." 
 
 " Now, by my honest word ! " asseverated Master Simon, " I like 
 thy mettle, boy. I love thee for 't, Dickon. Thou hast a keen — " 
 
 The bells of the several churches, which had been silent during 
 the previous hour, now resumed their din, and a sudden hum, 
 like a distant huzza, announced the coming of the procession. 
 The clamour gradually advanced, rising its tone more and more, 
 till suddenly, as the loud bass bell of St Paul's struck a more 
 solemn note, there rose such a cheer from the assembled multitude, 
 whom a simultaneous movement undulated like the waves of the 
 sea, that Master Simon knew the procession had attained the 
 churchyard. 
 
 And first, cap-a-pie, came the proud and gallant knight, the 
 Chevalier Robert Fitzrobert Fitzwalter, Signior of Baynard 
 Castle, and Hereditary Standard-bearer and Castilian of the city. 
 He bore the city banner, which, according to Strype, " shall be, 
 gules, the image of St Faul, gold ; the face, hands, feet, and 
 sword, silver." Then, walking abreast, came the Sheriffs, Master 
 Nicholas Twyford and Master Andrew Fikeman, citizens and 
 goldsmiths, bearing tapers. They were followed by the worship- 
 ful citizen and grocer. Master Adam Staple, Mayor, who carried 
 a tall wax taper, impressed with the arms of the Duke of Lan-
 
 144 TUli LIFE AND TlMEiS OV 
 
 caster ■which taper he was commanded to set before the image of 
 our Lady, within the cathedral. Lastly, closing the procession, 
 there cai'ne delegates from the thirteen incorporated companies of 
 the citv, witli their warders, carrying tapers, and their banners 
 hunt; with black bandrols. They Avere received at the porch by 
 the Bishops of London and Winchester, in full canonicals, who, 
 after the door of the cathedral was closed, preceded them to our 
 Lady's shrine. 
 
 The line, which, till the procession had passed into the ca- 
 thedral, had been kept clear, was now broken, and Master Simon 
 had therefore no difficulty in leading Dick out of the crowd. 
 They hastened up Cheapside, and thence down Gracious street, to 
 the Tower Real. 
 
 The Tower kitchen, into which they immediately introduced 
 themselves, Avas occupied by several of Master Simon's acquaint- 
 ance, who, on his entry, met him with a cordial welcome. The 
 procession, of course, formed the topic of conversation, but to 
 fair Mistress Eleanor Price, who was one of the company, this 
 seemed to possess no interest. Dick remarked her abstraction, 
 and as she stood very high in his estimation, and he saw that 
 Master Simon Avas so much exhilarated by the conversation as to 
 forget other matters, he gently hinted to that person that his mis- 
 tress was very pale. His insinuation, however, was ill-timed, for 
 Master Simon considered it a crime in any one to look pale on so 
 joyful an occasion as the triumph of Lancaster. At that moment, 
 indeed, he weighed Mistress Eleanor, whom he loved more 
 dearly than his life, as a feather in the balance Avith his political 
 opinions, and if any one had said that the Duke of Lancaster 
 Avas not the noblest and handsomest man in the Avorld, or denied, 
 or even doubted, the orthodoxy of John WicklifFe and Bill Smith, 
 it Avould have been cause of mortal feud Avith Master Simon. He 
 had, in fact, Avrought himself up to such a pitch of excitement, by 
 indulging in a kind of freemasonry Avith his old adversary the 
 gamit falconer, that just before Dick Avhispered him, he had ex- 
 ]n'essed a feeling of disappointment that he could not conveniently 
 be martyred. 
 
 " Dickon, I love you AA'cll," said Master Simon, "but if you 
 again say I look pale, you Avill offend me sorely." 
 
 " I' faith, fair sir," replied Dick, " j'oii look red enough." 
 
 *' Who looks pale, then ? " asked Master Simon. ''Tell me, 
 and I Avill have feud Avith him." 
 
 " Ah, in sooth, Avho do look pale? " cried the cook, Avho Avas 
 also a profound ])olitician, and a constant patron of Master Simon. 
 
 " Marry," said Mistress Eleanor, '< gaffer Simon looks very 
 red; but I see none look pale. Thou hast colour to spare, 
 Simon; so prithee, if there be any good-fellow pale, impart it." 
 
 Master Simon protested that, as red Avas the colour of the 
 Lancastrian rose, no loynl person could ))e loo red, and he there-
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 145 
 
 upon exhibited the marvellous large rose which decorated his 
 bonnet. While the company, Avho -were all of the same faction, 
 highly commended his enthusiasm, his friend Dick Whittington 
 felt some one pulling his hair, and, turning round, beheld a 
 buxom-looking damsel, who whispered him to follow her. 
 Amazed at her recpiest, yet seeing that she was in earnest, he 
 watched his opportunity, and gradually stealing away fi'om the 
 company, he glided from the kitchen into the passage beyond.
 
 146 THB LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XV. THE PIT. 
 
 DICK IS INTRODUCED TO A CERTAIN LADY, WHO CONFIDES TO 
 HIM A MISSION OF MUCH CONSEQUENCE; WHICH MISSION, 
 OWING TO THE ARRIVAL OF A THIRD PERSON, IS UNAVOID- 
 ABLY POSTPONED. 
 
 Dame Alice Perrers, on recovering from the hysterics into which 
 the violence of her passions had precipitated her, found herself 
 stretched on a low couch in the alcove of her sitting chamber. 
 When she opened her eyes and beheld the persons of her female 
 attendant, Master Henry, and the mediciner, she immediately 
 comprehended the nature of her situation, and after a few moments' 
 silence, during which she exchanged a kindly glance with each of 
 her attendants, directed the mediciner, in a whisper which was 
 audible to the other two, to use his own discretion in the punish- 
 ment of Rudleigh. How the Jew, who instantly retired, ordered 
 Rudleigh to be pumped upon, and how he afterwards ejected him 
 from the Tower Royal, has already been certified by Master 
 Simon Racket ; but it remains to be shown, with as much delicacy 
 as truth will allow, how Dame Alice Perrers deported herself to 
 Master Henry. 
 
 That gallant cavalier, though as true to his lady-love as might 
 well be wished, could not be expected, when led to the experiment, 
 to resist the bland smiles of a rival beauty. And unquestionably, 
 though she might be in her fortieth year. Dame Alice Perrers 
 was the most beautiful woman of the time. In honour of her 
 loveliness a king had shivered his lance ; princes and peers, at the 
 lists of Smooth Field, where Edward the Third had handed her 
 to the Queen of Beauty's throne, had knelt for her smile ; and 
 poets and minstrels, who are ever the trumpeters of a bright eye, 
 had carried her fame into foreign lands. No wonder, then, 
 that as she lay in her loose morning-robe on the couch of the 
 alcove,^ and he stood near the estrade to take leave, Master 
 Henry's eyes evinced a degree of admiration which words could 
 not have expressed ; for after the volcano-like eruption of her pas- 
 sions, which had awed as well as surprised him, there was a 
 shadow in her paleness that made her look lovely indeed. 
 
 She might be in her fortieth year ; but her long brown hair,
 
 
 -//. y 

 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 147 
 
 her fair oval face, her large cerulean eye, her ripe, ruddy lips, her 
 full and elegant person, her small, well-turned foot, which, by 
 accident perhaps, was thrust from beneath her long robe of velvet, 
 would have led you to think that she was about twenty-five ; or 
 rather, would have so engrossed your attention, so captivated 
 your judgment, and so entirely monopolised your heart, that you 
 would not have given her age a thought. And Dame Alice 
 Perrers, like the most innocent of her sex, was fully conscious of 
 her charms ; but to be assured by his mute admiration that they 
 could have effect on the heart of such a youthful cavalier — to 
 know that that heart must as yet be untainted by corruption, that 
 it was glowing with the noblest feelings of humanity, that it had 
 sustained the glance of many a younger and perhaps brighter eye, 
 and that yet, at a first meeting, she had made it the recipient of 
 tender thoughts ; — to be assured of this, and to mark his hand- 
 some and manly person, was a triumph which her vanity had not 
 anticipated. Her eye recovered its brilliant flash, and her bosom 
 swelled with pride as she extended her hand to bid him farewell ; 
 and when he knelt down at her side, and kissed that matchless 
 hand, Dame Alice Perrers felt that she was a woman. 
 
 " You leave us soon, Sir Cavalier," she said. " My matroncy 
 upon't, Mary," she added, turning to her maid, " but the torrent 
 of our rage has washed this fair bark among the rocks. Well, 
 and you must go, brave sir" — and the lady dwelt long on the word 
 must. " Give you good morrow." 
 
 " Good morrow, lovely lady," stammered the cavalier, and 
 retired. 
 
 But no sooner had he quitted the room than the lady started up. 
 Her pale cheeks suddenly became florid, and as she stood, with 
 her long hair waving down her peerless neck, and her eyes fixed, 
 glaring at the door by which he had made his egress, a sigh more 
 profound, and haply more sincere, than any that had ever escaped 
 her, burst from her heaving bosom. 
 
 " He asked no leave to come again," she muttered. " He said 
 not he would come this eve, to-morrow, next day, or the morning 
 after ; nor did he beg such licence. Lovely lady ! lovely lady ! 
 Why any puny mouther could sav as much, and no two words so 
 little." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " Alice Perrers," she said at last, " thy sun hath set — thy day 
 is over, Alice Perrers. And he so young and blooming, too! — to 
 — to see him no more ! I mill. He shall return. Go call him 
 back, Mary! Away!" 
 
 "My lady?" 
 
 " Aha ! True, girl ; it should not be." 
 
 And Dame Alice Perrers sat down on the couch, and, hiding 
 her face in her hands, wept like — a woman.
 
 148 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 But all that day, and all the next day, she expected another 
 visit from Master Henry. A third day, and a fourth day passed, 
 and he came not ; and having in the interim recollected his silent 
 admiration, and on a review of all the circumstances, concluded 
 that it -was diffidence rather than insensibility that kept him away, 
 she determined to send him an invitation. There was, however, 
 one solitary objection to this course, and that was her ignorance 
 of his name and place of abode. She sent for the mcdicincr, who 
 was deep in all her secrets, and sounded him on this point, but 
 that politic person, for certain reasons Avhich the reader may guess, 
 professed an utter inability to afford her the desired information. 
 Resolved, nevertheless, to prosecute her purpose, the lady noAv 
 conferred with her maid, aud learned tliat, besides the mediciner, 
 the cavalier had been attended by a youth, who occasionally visited 
 the Tower kitchen. This youth was no other than our hero, and 
 accordingly, on his first visit to the Tower Royal, he was sum- 
 moned to the presence of its lovely mistress. 
 
 Dame Alice Ferrers received Dick Whittington with an ur- 
 banity and condescension which had Avon her much popularity, 
 and Avhich, extended to a bashful and diffident boy, served to 
 inspire him Avith a confidence that was essential to her ends. She 
 easily learned, by insidious questions, the place of Master Henry's 
 residence, but by Avhat designation he Avas knoAvn, beyond that of 
 Master Henry, Dick could not inform her. It occurred to the 
 lady that, from his seeming frank and unsuspicious disposition, 
 Dick Avould be an appropriate messenger to the young cavalier, 
 and that, therefore, as there Avould be much danger in sending one 
 of her pages on such an errand, inasmuch as his garb Avould excite 
 suspicion, it Avould be advisable to employ him in this capacity. 
 Under this impression, Avithout saying anything Avhich Avould ac- 
 quaint him Avith her motives, she desired him to be the bearer of 
 a ring to Master Henry, and a verbal message, soliciting his attend- 
 ance. Dick, proud to serA^e so great a lady, readily undertook 
 the mission, Avhich he had no doubt Avould be the means of making 
 his fortune ; but before the lady could give him final instructions 
 concerning the manner in Avhich he Avas to acquit himself, a rap 
 at the chamber-door announced a visiter. 
 
 Dame Ferrers beckoned Dick Avithin the recess that constituted 
 the alcove, and thrust liim behind a fall of the drapery, which 
 entirely concealed him from observation. She then ordered her 
 maid to attend the door, and the next moment, to the no small 
 trepidation of Dick, Avho Avished himself safe in his master's 
 kitchen, Sir Alfred Sinclair Avas ushered into her presence. 
 
 The traitorous chevalier advanced Avith a humility of mien and 
 a paleness of visage that formed a striking contrast to the proud 
 bearing and flushed cheek of Dame Alice Ferrers. He seemed, 
 as lie made an abrupt pause, to be Avaiting for the lady to extend
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 149 
 
 her hand, that he might, in conformity with the prevailing usage, 
 sahite it with a kiss ; but Dame AHce, instead of attending to this 
 ceremonial, directed him to a chair some distance from her own. 
 
 '' I thought," said Sir Alfred, somewhat daunted, " to have had 
 the honour to taste the fairest hand in Christendom this noon." 
 
 "You have done your devoir so gallantly, my lord baron," 
 replied Dame Alice, '^ that the honour would be on our side. 
 Howbeit, we seek it not ; but, and it like your knighthood, would 
 know wherefore you test our patience further, having, as we have 
 been surely advertised, already disdained our injimctions." 
 
 " Dame Alice," rejoined Sir Alfred, after a moment's interval, 
 " I would pray you to show wherein I have transgressed. If I 
 have in aught given matter of offence to you, the fairest of ladies, 
 I would atone for it Avith my heart's best blood. Beshrew me, 
 fair lady, but thy heart must be hard indeed, thus to persecute a 
 devoted suitor." 
 
 " Now, give me an owl to sing," said Dame Alice Ferrers, 
 " for his hoarse scream Avould be more musical than thy homespun 
 compliments. Believe me, my lord baron, thou hast no tongue to 
 please a fair lady. Have not I told thee, a score of times, it is 
 not love for thee, Avhom I know for a knave, that hath urged me 
 in this matter ; but hatred to thy brother, Avhom thou hast served 
 scurvily enough. Besides, thou hast presumed to infringe my 
 orders ; and beshrcAv my heart if I meddle more in't." 
 
 " But I have the King's warrant, fair lady," replied Sir Alfred, 
 "and till it be cancelled I will act thereon." 
 
 " Then I cancel it now," returned Dame Ferrers. " Ho, with- 
 out there ! But no, I will for the Duke's missive myeslf ; aiul 
 when I show you his Grace's writing, ordaining your brother shall 
 be left at large, proceed at your peril." 
 
 Dame Ferrers rose and quitted the room, and Sir Alfred bit his 
 lips to restrain his rage. 
 
 Dick had felt very uncomfortable during the preceding dialogue, 
 of which, as he Avas endued Avith a commendable degree of 
 ciiriosity, he had not lost a Avord, and feeling more at ease when 
 Dame Alice's egression from the room had brought it to a period, 
 he leant back against the Avainscot Avith less caution than became 
 him. He Avas much alarmed, as Avell as surprised, Avhen the panel 
 against AAdiich he had leant, and AA-hich formed an entrance to a 
 secret passage, suddenly gave AA'ay, and stretched him head foremost 
 in the narroAv passage beyond. Unfortunately, too, the noise had 
 been heard by Sir Alfred Sinclair, avIio started up straightAA^ay, and 
 began to examine the drapery. 
 
 Dick Avas not in the least inclined for a fete-d-tete Avith the igno- 
 ble baron, and he therefore rose as quietly as he could, and ran 
 down the passage. The sound of his retreating footsteps directed 
 the baron to the spot, and, having draAvn his sword, he darted in. 
 
 A short distance brought Dick to a flight of steps, doAvn Avhich, 
 as he Avas entirely unprepared for such a descent, and the place
 
 150 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 was so extremely tlark as to be impervious to the sight, he was 
 instantly precipitated. After descending about a dozen steps, 
 however, he made a grasp at the quoin of the inner Avail, which, 
 at a sudden Avind in the stairs, Avas sufficiently sharp to afford a 
 hold. Thus, in a miraculous manner, he broke his descent ; but 
 his pursuer, though more familiar Avith secret and subterranean 
 communications, had fallen too, and just as Dick had grasped the 
 quoin of the Avail, came rolling down after him. Before Dick 
 could recover his feet, Avhich were uppermost, the baron had struck 
 against them, and, extending his hands, seized the skirt of Dick's 
 gaberdine. 
 
 For a moment Dick's presence of mind forsook him. A thought 
 struck him that he might there be murdered, even without being 
 alloAved time to make his peace with heaven ; and his murderer, 
 by a celerity of movement, might escape scathless. Should he 
 cry out? Should he turn and sue for mercy? He strained 
 every muscle for one last effort, and springing forwards, with the 
 energy of despair, leaped unopposed doAvn several stairs. 
 
 Thanking an all-Avise Providence that his jacket Avas rotten, 
 and that the main-body had parted thus easily Avith the skirt, 
 Dick descended the stairs with a rapidity that, to one less dexter- 
 oixs in preserving his equilibrium, Avoidd have been highly dan- 
 gerous. The darkness was fearful, and the peculiar build of the 
 stairs, Avhich, being on a sharp and continual curve, Avere almost 
 spiral, made him giddy, but he still pushed on. He had received 
 several bruises from collisions Avith the Avall, and Avhen he fell 
 back into the passage, on the breaking doAvn of the panel, had cut 
 his forehead severely. The blood trickled doAvn his face in large, 
 warm, heavy drops ; the perspiration streamed over him like 
 water ; his hair almost raised his hood from his head ; and to 
 hear him strain on — to hear the beat of his heart in each senten- 
 tious respiration, Avere a torture to an infidel. Hoav his poor head 
 ached! hoAv his boy brain whirled! hoAV his flesh quivered on his 
 despair-nerved muscles ! and, greatest Avonder of all, how he ran 
 on still ! Whither he Avas running he kncAv not, nor did he think 
 or care, if it saved him from the baron ; and bruises, Avounds, and 
 alls Avere nothing in a flight for very life. 
 
 At length he reached the bottom of the stairs. His right foot 
 some doAvn Avith a stamji on the humid stone ; and liefore he ad- 
 vanced another step, his head struck against a dank Avail. Hoav 
 cold, though the collision Avas so violent, did it strike his giddy 
 brain! On, on he rushed. "Stop!" screamed an unearthly 
 voice. But Avho should stop him ? On, on he sped. "Stop!'" 
 rang in his ear, even in a more holloAv tone than before, but he 
 heeded it not. He attained the brink of a pit, Avhich the darkness 
 entirely obscured, and as he leaped foi'Avards, unconscious of his 
 situation, a hoarse scream rang through the vaults — 
 
 "God! he is down!"
 
 DICK WHITTINGTOK. 151 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. THE RIVALS. 
 
 mistress eleanor price is presented with a token of 
 affection", which, with another matter, creates a 
 great commotion in the tower real. dick whit- 
 tington resumes his prominent station in this 
 History. 
 
 Sir Alfred Sinclair, Avhen his fall on the stairs was arrested by 
 the body of Dick Whittington, was much surprised to find, from 
 tlie smallness of his limbs, that the person whom he had been 
 pursuing was a boy only ; whereas, on his entering the secret pas- 
 sage, he had suspected that Dame Alice had placed some retainers 
 there, with a design which, though he could not divine how, might 
 be directed against himself. Though he was now convhiced 
 that such was not the case, and therefore did not pursue Dick 
 any further, he nevertheless relinquished a scheme which he had 
 originally intended to execute, and by which, when Dame Alice 
 Perrers told him its purport, he thought to gain possession of the 
 Duke of Lancaster's letter. He sprang up as Dick sprang down 
 tlie stairs, and before Dick had reached the vault below, he had 
 returned to the sitting-chamber. Here he re-adjusted his dress, 
 and brushed his hair over his left temple, which had been bruised 
 by his fall, and then, having knocked the dust from his beard and 
 moustachios, awaited the return of Dame Alice. 
 
 That lady was not long absent. She was, however, too familiar 
 with the baron's character to trust him with the letter, which, 
 on his confessing his ignorance of reading and writing, she read 
 thus : — 
 
 " To the worshipful and honourable lady. Dame Alice Piers, 
 greeting. These are to advise you, worshipful dame, that the 
 King's Highness has well considered the matter you spoke of, 
 concernynge one traytourous vassal, Henry Sinclair by name, and 
 he wills the lands of the said traytour to our good and loyal 
 knight. Sir Alfred Sinclair, brother of the said traytour. The 
 further pleasure of his highness is, by favour of the noble Hum- 
 phrey Bohun, Earl of Hereford, and the valiant and right trustie 
 Sir Herbert de Pye, Baron of Taunton, that the life of the afore- 
 said traytour, Henry Sinclair by name, shall now be spared. —
 
 152 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 From our hioh and niiglity Prince John, Duke of Lancaster, 
 Kino- of Leon, and so forth, writ downe by Walter Fatfellow, un- 
 worthy frere of Sancte Augustine." 
 
 Sir Alfred Sinclair, perhaps, was no longer desirous, being now 
 vested with his lands and titles, for the decapitation of his unfor- 
 tunate brother ; but, however this might be, he kept his opinion 
 and wishes to himself. He rose abruptly when Dame Alice had 
 finished the reading of the letter, and took his leave, to the no 
 small contentment of the lady, avIio, naturally enough, began to 
 feel concerned for Dick. Before, however, she could resume her 
 conference with our hero, whom she supposed to be safely en- 
 sconced behind the drapery, her waiting- woman announced another 
 visiter, from whom she presented a token-ring, 
 
 *' Admit him," said Dame Alice ; and a middle-aged and rather 
 portly gentleman was instantly introduced. 
 
 He was dressed in a suit of black, of an antique and capacious 
 fashion, and wore a dark-coloured hood, fitted close to his head. 
 His face Avas masculine and frank, and his quick eyes beamed in- 
 telligence. His pointed beard, his neatly-trimmed moustachios, 
 his brown hair, combed into a hundred natural curls over his 
 temple, set off a countenance that, even without these advantages, 
 would have spoken the poet and the philosopher. He bent one 
 knee, with a grace that Avould have become a princely coat, as the 
 lady extended her hand, which he raised to his lips, but Dame 
 Alice insisted on his rising. 
 
 "What seeks the witty Geoffrey Chaucer of his jioor admirer?" 
 asked Dame Alice. 
 
 " Your ladyship makes me proudful," replied the poet, bowing 
 gracefully. '' I sought but to present your ladyship with this 
 pool- prologue, which haply you have not seen yet." 
 
 " Ah me," cried the lady, taking the paper, and glancing over 
 it, " the prologue to the Wife of Bath — the merry wench that 
 was buxom to the last. I' faith. Master Chaucer, I owe you 
 many thanks." 
 
 " I hasted me, noble lady," said Master Chaucer, " forasmuch 
 as a false knave, who is a pot companion of my servant, stole a 
 copy of the prologue ere it was quite writ off, and then, driving 
 down my thoughts into his own mean words, procured one of his 
 mates, a clerk of Seven Dials, to write it off fairly. The vile 
 impostor having writ his own name on these false books, spread 
 them about, luring two or three of the unwary with the title of 
 * The Life of the Wife of Bath.'" 
 
 " Now, by my matroncy ! " cried Dame Alice Perrers, " 'tis a 
 stain on mankind, and on woman that gives them birth, tliat such 
 heartless wretches should wear man's form. Fellows they are, 
 Master Chaucer, who Avould rob you of the labour of the pillow — 
 devastate the harvest of your midnight toilings. By God, sir, 
 tliese mean-hearted cowards, who dare not disclose themselves at
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 153 
 
 the guarded hill, where every new comer must present his pass- 
 port, will walk you miles on the downs adjacent, and waylay and 
 spoil those who have passports to show. I hate your coward, 
 sir, — your thief, your man of the highway, your cut-and-thrust 
 butcher of a robber ; but, by our Lady, those crooked limbs of 
 humanity, those deformed progeny of the stews, sir, — nay, a 
 murtherer, who would I'un you through the body with an exact 
 punto, cry you aha ! and then be hanged for justice sake ; all 
 these wretches, I say, are before the miscreant who would break 
 his fast on your brains, — a dog who would swill into his insatiable 
 maw at the expense of another's ingeny." 
 
 " I would rather," returned Master Chaucer, " have made him 
 drunken for a week, though it Avould have liked me better to have 
 battered his bones well, even as he broke the bones of my Wife 
 of Bath. But, to quit this fellow, who would cut your throat for 
 the penny in your pouch, I must bid a good morrow to yoiir lady- 
 ship, for I am bound for court." 
 
 "Give you good morrow, Sir Poet," smiled Dame Alice; and 
 Master Chaucer stepped towards the door. 
 
 " Gramercy, my lady ! " he cried, as he opened the door, " is 
 there a mutiny in the Tower Real ? " 
 
 " By my halidame ! " replied Dame Alice, " I think yes. Ho, 
 without there ! " 
 
 But before the uproar which attracted the attention of Dame 
 Alice Perrers and Master Geoffrey Chaucer, and which was so 
 unusual in that fortress as to excite their curiosity, can be clearly 
 explained to the reader, it is essential that he should return to the 
 Tower kitchen. 
 
 The party installed in this apartment had been augmented by 
 the presence of a person whose ingress had been unnoticed by the 
 entire company. The collar of his shoulder-cloak Avas drawn up, 
 and his bonnet was pulled over his forehead, so that, unless he 
 were inspected narrowly, he could not be recognised. He sat in 
 an obscure corner of the kitchen, on a bench of which he was 
 the sole occupier ; and though the passing discourse was of the 
 most interesting character, being, indeed, a disquisition between 
 Master Simon Racket and the cook, it seemed to afford him no 
 entertainment. This circumstance, though he probably thought 
 that it would screen him from observation, drew on him the eyes 
 of the cook, who, as she had completely refuted Master Simon's 
 assertion respecting the colour of the Duke of Lancaster's beard, 
 which he averred to be black, but which, even to the satisfaction 
 of himself, she proved to be broAvn, naturally looked for applause 
 from all present. 
 
 " Holy dame ! " she cried, " here have we a mute among us, — 
 a felloAv — God save us ! — who careth no more about the colour 
 of the Duke's beard than he doth about the colour of a freer's 
 hood."
 
 154 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " Body o' lue ! " cried the p;aunt falconer, " but there be no 
 such fellows alive, gentle cook.'' 
 
 " But I say there be, though, Sir Falconer," replied the cook. 
 " Ho, you Sir Stranger ! art a pope's man ? a crier-up of freers ? 
 Speak '! " 
 
 " I am for none of your arguings," returned the stranger, in a 
 lieigned voice. " I am for speech with a fair damsel here, one 
 Mistress Eleanor Price." 
 
 " Say you ? " cried Master Simon, starting up. " I' faith," he 
 cried, looking more closely at the stranger, " I should know your 
 stature." 
 
 " My name," said the stranger, removing his bonnet, " is 
 Rudleigh." 
 
 ''Rudleigh !" echoed the amazed company. 
 
 " I will words with you, then," cried Master Simon. 
 
 But the cook, seizing a sjnt from the fire-place, rushed between 
 Master Simon and his rival; and with an indelicate exclamation, 
 threatened to expel the latter person from the Tower. 
 
 " I have come for speech with Mistress Eleanor," said Rud- 
 leigh. " You may all set on me, and it like you, but I will go 
 onh^ perforce." 
 
 " I like thy mettle," observed Master Simon, " and wish thy 
 beai'ing in other matters became it. But we are not for war with 
 a single man, so prithee. Mistress Cook, permit him speech with 
 my fair leman." 
 
 " Nay, and it so like you, I be willing," replied the cook. 
 
 " But that be not I," said Mistress Eleanor. " I want no words 
 with the knave." 
 
 Thou'lt like it ill hereafter, then," rejoined Master Rudleigh. 
 " Prithee be prevailed on." 
 
 " What seek you, then ? " asked the damsel, crossing over to him. 
 
 " Dost know this scarf?" inquired Rudleigh, in a whisper. 
 
 " Ay," replied Mistress Eleanor, turning pale, " 'Tis my 
 mother's." 
 
 ''She sends it," said Master Rudleigh, "as a token of my 
 errand. She advises you that she is in a sore distress, Avhich I, 
 and I oidy can put aside. She prays you, by this token, and by 
 the love you OAve your mother, that you will accept my suit, and 
 then, as I have sworn, I will deliver her straight." 
 
 "Sir Rudleigh," re])li('d Mistress Eleanor, "thou art a traitor, 
 and a disioynl knave, and seekest by artifice to entrap my love. 
 Simon Hitcket," she cried, as she caught Rudleigh's arm with one 
 hand, and beckoned her lover with the other, " here is a fellow 
 lias pilfered my mother's scarf, and brought it hither as a token, 
 lorsooth. I would " 
 
 " Nay," shouted Master Simon, " stand you back, you — all of 
 you back. I liave feud with this rascallion. Dickon," he con- 
 tinued, looking round. "Why, where is the boy ? "
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. \56 
 
 *' The boy ?" inquired a dozen voices. 
 
 " Ay, the boy ! " thundered Master Simon, drawing his rapier. 
 " This losel hath entrapped him — murthered him, mayhap. A 
 murrain on thee, thou black-hearted traitor ! what hast done 
 with him ? " 
 
 " I saw him not," replied Rudleigh. 
 
 " Hold you," cried the ceok. " Was he not here but now ? 
 Thou hast practised glamour on him — thou hast done art magie 
 to him." 
 
 " Have him before our royal lady," shouted the company. 
 
 " So be it," cried Master Simon. " I will act his accuser, his 
 informer, his flapper-at-the-elbow fellow." 
 
 " I Avill be his puller-on, his 'torney man, his persecutor, his 
 flea-in-the-ear," cried the falconer, seizing Rudleigh by the collar. 
 
 And preceded by Master Simon and the cook, and foUoAved by 
 a crowd of domestics, the captive Rudleigh Avas dragged up the 
 stairs which led to Dame Alice's apartments. 
 
 Just as they reached the ante-chamber, where they AA-ere about 
 to delegate one of the i>arty as a herald to their mistiness, the door 
 of the principal chamber opened, and Master Chaucer con- 
 fronted them. He closed the door behind him, and Avaved them 
 back, and having learned their business, and assured them that he 
 would impart it to Dame Alice, desired them to abide his return. 
 He then entered the inner chamber, where, while the throng with- 
 out were on their Avay up the stairs, an incident had happened 
 Avhich restores this history its hero. 
 
 It AA'ill be recollected, that, during his flight through the sub- 
 terraneous passage of the Tower RoA^al, Dick had heard some 
 one calling on him to stop, but as he supposed this command to 
 proceed from Sir Alfred Sinclair, Avhom he imagined to be close 
 at his heels, it only urged him to expedite his movements. His 
 precipitation, however, had nearly cost him his life. A deep pit, 
 wherein, in remote ages, the bones of those unhappy persons who 
 died in the adjacent dungeons Avere deposited, lay right in his path, 
 and but for a bar, AA'hich Avas stretched across a fcAA' feet beloAV the 
 mouth, and on AA'hich he fell, he AA'ould have tumbled to the bottom. 
 He clung with the tenacity of despair round this limber bar, Avhich 
 bent beneath his weight. He AA'as not much hurt, but if, as he 
 dreaded, the giddiness from which he was suffering should increase, 
 his fate Avould be sealed. Indeed, almost as the thought occurred 
 to him, his brain reeled ; and though he might be said to be still 
 sensible of his situation, and to be striving his utmost to escape, 
 his hold of the bar relaxed. At this awful moment, when he shut 
 his eyes to exclude the prospect of death — Avhen his knees shook 
 Avith natural apprehension, and his remaining spark of conscious- 
 ness was spent in an appeal to Heaven, a bony hand grasped his 
 jerkin. 
 
 Dick felt that he Avas being pulled up, and expected that, on
 
 156 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 reaching the top, he would be again hurled down. He experienced 
 that choking sensation — that thrilling effect of a sudden shock, 
 which, perliaps, is best described when, in ordinary idiom, the 
 heart is said to be in the mouth. He repressed his breath — 
 
 "'Tis a boy," muttered a voice, which though it sounded hoarse 
 was far from unpleasing. 
 
 Dick threw himself round the speaker's body. In a few minutes, 
 having recovered his firmness, he opened his eyes. 
 
 " Who be you ? " he asked. 
 
 " Like you, hapless child," said his deliverer, " I am prisoned 
 here. I saw your mad attempt at escape. Alas ! where would 
 you find an outlet ? Or say, unfortimate/' and she drew back, 
 "were you bent on self-murther." 
 
 " Our lady forefcnd, good mother ! " replied Dick. " I saw 
 not the pit, and marvel, seeing how dark it is, how 'tis seen 
 by you." 
 
 " Alas ! " returned the other, " though I have been here but a 
 Aveek, my eyes are so used to darkness, that methinks I could see 
 not in light. Hoav, and thou so young, is't not so with thee?" 
 
 " I am prisoned not, mother. I was chased hither. Didst see 
 none follow me?" 
 
 " None, my son," replied the woman. 
 
 "Then will I return straight." 
 
 "Return?" eagerly cried the other. "Return! said'st thou? 
 Dost know an outlet?" 
 
 " Av, mother. But I fear 'twill not serve thee." 
 
 " Wherefore ? " 
 
 "Forasmuch as it leads to Dame Alice's chamber," cried 
 Dick. 
 
 " Then will I with thee, boy," replied the woman. '' I Avas 
 brought hither for no crime — prisoned here, boy, without the 
 dame's advice. Oh, God ! and vou will guide me to Dame 
 Alice?" 
 
 " That will I," rejoined Dick, '' if we can grabble our way to 
 the stairs." 
 
 Dick's companion, as she had herself said, seemed to see as 
 well in the dark as he could have done in the light. They were, 
 nevertheless, some time before they made out the stair, which, 
 as it opened into the wall of the vault, and had but a narrow 
 entrance, could only be detected by careful groping. They theri 
 ascended to the upper passage, where, in a few moments, they 
 gainctl the secret panel. Determined to confront Sir Alfred, 
 and accuse him before he left the presence of Dame Alice, Dick 
 darted through, and was followed by the woman. Master Chau- 
 cer had just opened the chambor-door, and he and Dame Alice 
 Avei-e Avondering at the uproar Avithout, Avhen they Avere surprised 
 by the entrance of Dick and his companion.
 
 ^f^i-^^it jyi tilt %,0WtX''\t^ -
 
 DICK "WHITTINGTOK. 157 
 
 " What means this, boy?" asked Dame Alice. 
 
 While Master Chaucer closed the chamber-door Dick explained. 
 
 "And you, good woman?" said Dame Alice, trembling with 
 passion. 
 
 Instead, however, of following the mysterious woman through 
 her narrative, and recording the several interpolations of Dame 
 Alice Perrers, Master Chaucer, and Dick Whittington, the chro- 
 nicler will give her story in his own words. 
 
 C]&c ©tore of IBaiiie \s>vict. 
 
 Once upon a time, ere good King Edward and his heroic son 
 had completed the conquest of France, there dwelt at a small 
 village in Wiltshire, situate about thirty miles from the sea, a 
 person whose course of life appeared to run out of the ordinary 
 channel. He was a stranger in those parts, and his name, Avhich 
 was Price, was borne by no other individual in the county. He 
 had come there with his Avife and daughter, then a little prattling 
 child ; and much to the surprise of the suspicious denizens, whose 
 families had been located thereabouts for ages anterior, settled on 
 a farm on the estate of Dame Alice Perrers. A quiet man he was, 
 and a civil ; but wliether it was owing to his idle habits, which 
 might be inferred from the forlorn condition of his farm, or to his 
 easy circumstances, which his indolence did not seem to impair, 
 his new neighbours bore him no good will. He did not, indeed, 
 go out of his way to conciliate them, nor did he appear to long 
 for their better acquaintance, but, as the season suited, he gave 
 them good morrow or good even with as much affability as evei*. 
 ■Now this urbanity only tended to make him more unpopular, 
 for if, recollecting the truism that a worm will turn, one treats 
 a pei'son with incivility, it is naturally expected that he will 
 reciprocate our rudeness; and if, on the contrary, he chooses 
 to be odd, we cordially detest him for his politeness. 
 
 But Master Price had one patron in Rudleigh, the franklin, 
 or steward of the lady of the manor. People might talk of 
 the neglected state of his farm, or of his occasional disappear- 
 ance for weeks together, or of the comfort which, notwithstand- 
 ing all these unfavourable circumstances, he contrived to maintain 
 at home ; but the franklin said never a word. Once, indeed, 
 when Master Price had been absent for nearly six months, and 
 the neighbours began to denounce him as the pursuer of wild 
 courses, Rudleigh had said that he would soon be among them 
 again ; and on the night of that day, Avhen most of the deni- 
 zens had retired to rest, a horse galloped through the village 
 towards Price's habitation. 
 
 It was a dark night, though the season was summer, and the 
 wind howled like a hoarse demon, that bodeth calamity. The
 
 158 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 liorsemaii, however, kept good his way ; and despite the dark- 
 ness, which was so dense as to obscure the houses on either 
 side, seemed to be too familiar with the road to render an abate- 
 ment of his pace necessary. He drew up before the house of 
 Master Price, and having; dismoxmted, and secured his horse 
 to a pallisade, lifted up the latch of the door, and introduced 
 himself to the interior. 
 
 A woman, apparently about thirty years of age, who was seated 
 by the side of a blazing fire, started as the horseman entered, and 
 a slight shudder which pervaded her frame, and which she strove 
 to repress, showed that she did not regard him as a welcome 
 visiter. 
 
 " Methought, Master Rudleigh, he was to be here to-night?" 
 she said, after a moment's silence. 
 
 " I may be a day out in ray reckoning," replied Rudleigh, for 
 he it was. " Such things will hap, my pretty dame." 
 
 " Then wherefore come you here 1" 
 
 " I come to press my suit ; surely, now that opportunity is so 
 friendly, you will be wilful no more." 
 
 And Master Rudleigh, as he spoke, divested himself of his 
 cloak, as though he were fully resolved to make himself at 
 home. 
 
 " I am a lone woman. Master Rudleigh," said the dame, " and 
 a hapless, but pr'ythee beware. Be sure 'twere better for you to 
 put your right arm in a lion's mouth, and easier to take it thence 
 unhurt, than to provoke the hate of my William and escape 
 scathless." 
 
 "A fico for his hate ! " replied Master Rudleigh, snapping his 
 fingers. " I could raise him to the gallows-head to-morrow." 
 
 "And would," said a third person, who at this moment threw 
 open the door, " only that I could send thee to the devil a day 
 before me." 
 
 The last speaker threw off" his long, dark cloak, and tossed his 
 peaked hat on the floor. He was a brawny man of middle stature, 
 and of a surly aspect, which last was not rendered a whit more 
 agreeable by a minatory scowl, that darkened his brow. 
 
 " 'T would be bad policy to quarrel," remarked Master Rudleigh, 
 with an air of indifierence. 
 
 " 'Twoidd so," said Master Price, saluting his wife. "There," 
 he continued, turning again to Rudleigh, and taking a bag from 
 his belt, " there is gold for thee." And he tossed the bag on the 
 floor. 
 
 " Is there half here ?" inquired Rudleigh. 
 
 " All — all," returned Price. " I sell my coimtry for revenge, 
 not for gold." 
 
 Master Rudleigh laughed. 
 
 " Dost think I done it for gold, then?" demanded Price.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 159 
 
 " Pshaw, neighbour !" replied Master Rudleigh. " You should 
 have hid the other bag, which I see dangling from your belt, 
 before you attempted to carry off this deceit." 
 
 Master Price bit his lips, and tried to smile, but he could not 
 conceal his vexation. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " he laughed. " Twas a quaint conceit. But 
 they will be here anon, gaffer ; and thou hast a good half. Hist ! 
 they are on us now. There is the drum." — He stepped towards 
 the door, which he threw open, and beckoned Rudleigh to follow. 
 
 " The wind is northerly," whispered Rudleigh, as they stood 
 listening at the door, "and the music should come from the 
 south. How is this, gossip ? " 
 
 "The fools!" muttered Price. "They are tarrying on the 
 coast, spoiling fishers' huts, when they might ravage the inland. 
 I would lay my life, if I had a lease on't, this music attends the 
 old abbot of Wilton, who is alarming the country." 
 
 The music became every moment more distinct, and it was 
 clear, as the two listeners returned into the cottage, that it he- 
 ralded the approach of some armament on the Wilton or Salisbury 
 road. Rudleigh and Price, on re-entering the cottage, seemed to 
 be undecided how to act, and Dame Price, who sat trembling by 
 the fire, was too much frightened to interfere. Suddenly, amidst 
 the tramp of horses and rolling of drums, there rose such loud 
 cries of " Route ! route ! For Sancte George and the King ! " 
 that there could no longer be any doubt, in the minds of any 
 one within hearing, but that the old abbot of Wilton was one 
 and the principal of the array which was alarming the village. 
 
 " I must to horse," muttered Price. 
 
 " Take mine," said Rudleigh, stepping after him to the door. 
 
 Dame Price still sat by the fire. She was pale, and she trem- 
 bled ; but she shed not a tear, nor heaved a sigh, nor spoke a 
 word. Price, as he stood on the threshold, gave her one fierce 
 look, and, seizing the reins and springing to the saddle, dashed 
 the rowels into the flanks of his steed, and disappeared. 
 
 He pushed forwards, notwithstanding the darkness and the 
 state of the roads, at the pace with which he had set out. He 
 knew, from long experience when on former expeditions, that he was 
 near a sharp angle in the road, and he Avas therefore compelled, 
 after traversing about a mile, to stop short, and endeavour to 
 search out the turning. A rude white cross, which stood in the 
 middle of the road, peered through the opacity, and he walked 
 his horse slowly up to it, in order that he might ascertain beyond 
 doubt the verity of his vision. Before he gained it, however, he 
 was stunned by a blow from an invisible assailant ; and as his 
 feet sprang upiiermost, and his head fell ground-wards, a long 
 knife was thrust into his heart. The assassin, Avho held the horse's 
 rein with his left hand, had scarcely time to cut the bag of gold 
 from Price's girdle, when a loud beating of drums, announcing
 
 160 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 the resumption of the abbot's march, startled both him and the 
 horse ; and tlie latter, breaking his rein, bounded forwards at his 
 full speed, dragging the body of the unhappy Price along with 
 him. 
 
 ** Murder will out," say some people, and so sometimes it will; 
 but the next morning, when the body of Price Mas found at some 
 distance up the road, no trace of the murderer coidd be disco- 
 vered. There were footmarks, indeed, across a field which came 
 out at the back of Price's house, but these terminated at the 
 Avooden cross, and in the opinion of some of the villagers, who 
 examined them carefulh^ they were the footmarks of Price him- 
 self. The neighbourhood, however, had been thrown into such a 
 state of excitement, in consequence of a party of Frenchmen 
 having landed on the coast of Hampshire, in which county they 
 were met and defeated by the Abbot of Wilton, that the inquiry 
 was not pursued with that strictness which, had the public mind 
 been in a more healthy condition, would probably have been 
 adopted ; and after the matter had constituted what is called a 
 "nine days' wonder," and all the people thereabout had been to visit 
 the spot Avhere the deceased was found, it was suffered to drop. 
 
 Tiie body of the murdered man was duly entombed, and his 
 widow, who did not take his death so much to heart as had been 
 expected, caused a respectable amount of masses to be performed 
 for the peace of his soul. Dame Price then removed to an adja- 
 cent cottage, granted to her by the favour of Rudleigh, where, 
 though enjoying the most perfect ill-Avill of her neighbours, she 
 contrived to earn a tolerable livelihood by the craft of spinning. 
 
 Time crept on apace ; and though in the outsetDame Price re- 
 garded Master Rudleigh with distrust and suspicion, she could not 
 be insensible, when she saw herself surrounded by persons who held 
 her in detestation, of the value and apparent singleness of his friend- 
 ship and countenance. No wonder, then, that as their intercourse 
 continued, he insinuated himself into her good graces, and as she 
 kncAv that she was completely in his power, and saw that instead 
 of persecuting he protected her, she reposed in him the confidence 
 which the villain so earnestly desired. In the meantime, as years 
 elapsed, her daughter, Eleanor, shot up into Avomanhood, and by 
 the permission of Dame Price, and through the interest of Rud- 
 liegh, Avas received into the service of Dame Alice Perrers. 
 
 It was now that the hypocrite divested his intentions of their 
 mask, and revealed them in their native deformity. He had for 
 several years, Avhile she Avas yet a child, resolved on making 
 Eleanor his Avife; and the removal of Dame Alice Perrers and 
 her household to London, Avhere Eleanor Avoidd be beyond the 
 protection of her mother, seemed to favour the design. But here, 
 Avhere lie least expected rivalry, he found himself opposed in the 
 lists ]jy a friend of Dame Alice's cook, Avhich friend AA'as no other 
 than Master Simon Racket.
 
 DICK Vv'niTTINGTON. 161 
 
 Master Simon soon found, by means of that dumb correspond- 
 ence which lovers carry on with their eyes, that gentle Mistress 
 Eleanor Price Avas not insensible to his personal merits ; and 
 though he perceived that there Avcre many difficulties to encounter, 
 and that Rudleigh, ill-looking as he was, Avas not a rival to be 
 contemned, he Avas fully aAvare, as he remarked to himself, that 
 perseverance accomplisheth many things, and he therefore deter- 
 mined to persevere. He Avas rcAvarded, in due time, Avith the 
 heart of his mistress, and, Avhat he cared less about, the mortal 
 enmity of his rival. But the latter person, though perfectly con- 
 scious that he could never gain her love, Avas not the less disposed 
 to Avin the hand of Mistress Eleanor ; and having tried to intimidate 
 her into compliance, not only by threats directed at herself, but 
 by hints of serious charges against her mother, and finding that 
 her firmness remained unshaken, he resolved to adopt the most 
 stringent measures. 
 
 Thus it fell, that exactly one Aveek antecedent to the date of the 
 preceding chapter of this history. Master Rudleigh repaired to 
 the stairs nearest the Savoy, situate on or about the site of the 
 existing Waterloo bridge. The river Avas at high-Avater, and he 
 roAved his boat close in shore, and Avaited the coming of a person 
 Avhom he had summoned to attend him. A solitary Avaterman, 
 Avho Avas lucubrating thereabouts, officiously tendered his assist- 
 ance to moor the boat ; but as Master Rudleigh Avas about to 
 avail himself of this kind ofter, a female, Avrapped in a hooded 
 cloak, descended the stairs. Master Rudleigh handed her into 
 the boat, and having helped her to a seat in the stern, and unship- 
 ped his oars, pulled from the shore. He made for the centre of 
 the river, Avithout exchanging a Avord Avith his companion, and 
 then, as he broke silence, pulled for London biidge. 
 
 " Have you thought over my offer, Dame Price?" he asked 
 of his companion. 
 
 " Ay," replied the dame, " and marvel you should make it, 
 sir. You say Eleanor accepts it?" 
 
 " No," said Rudleigh. ^' But she Avill accept it, dame, if you 
 enjoin her." 
 
 " That Avill I never do." 
 
 " Never ? " echoed Rudleigh, suddenly ceasing to pull. 
 
 " Never," repeated the dame. 
 
 " But suppose I took her a token, dame," resumed Rudleigh, 
 — " a scarf, or some such thing, as coming from you, and bade 
 her, as she prized its OAvner, to cry me ay — Avould there be harm 
 done?" 
 
 " I will give no token." 
 
 " Well, dame," said Rudleigh, " but 'tAA'^ere easy to take it 
 from your neck. See here noAV — at the Avater here, how calm it 
 is ! 'TAvere a fairy grave that, dame — a mirror, like, above you, 
 and a bed of mud, soft as doAvn, beneath you, Avith the fish for 
 
 M
 
 162 TUE LIFE AND TIMES OK 
 
 bedfellows. See, 'tis clear, deep, quiet." — And he pushed her 
 head over the bows of the boat, and held it down till it touched 
 the watei'. 
 
 That looked a still grave, indeed — that deep river, with the 
 moon shining on it so sweetly, and the stars, that illuminated the 
 cupola of the world, bathing their shadows in the dark water. No 
 wonder that woe, and poverty, and remorse, and infidelity, and 
 cowardice, when they have lost the last spark of manhood, go and 
 watch it in the moonlight, and mark its depth, its tranquillity, its 
 clearness, its beauty — no marvel that they consider the load which 
 presses on their hearts, or the gnawing of hunger that they cannot 
 appease, or the pricks of conscience that they cannot blunt, or the 
 absurdity, as they believe, of the fable about God and Heaven, and 
 the oblivion, ineffable and endless, which one determined leap 
 will secure to them — no wonder that they plunge, with the scoff 
 and sneer of fiendish scorn, into the inviting flood, and rush, head- 
 long, to the Judgment. 
 
 And little recked Dame Price, as her wrinkled lips touched 
 the rippling water, of that reflection which the poet has called 
 " the rub." She had not, indeed, any desire for death, but she 
 was certainly indifferent about it ; and if, as she expected, Rud- 
 leigh had attempted to throw her overboard, she would have 
 offered no resistance. But this was no part of the miscreant's 
 plan. He soon dropped his hold of her waist, and having replaced 
 her in her former seat, and again betaken himself to the oar, 
 pulled direct for the Tower Royal. 
 
 " You see, dame," he said, as he began to pull, " I am no 
 trifler. Marked you well the water, how calm it was ? Look 
 you, now, I carry poniards which would make your heart as calm 
 and still as the river." 
 
 " I will give no token," said the dame. 
 
 " Of that anon," returned Rudleigh. " I have bent you to 
 my wishes thus far ; and look you, dame, I will bend your hussy 
 of a daughter, too." 
 
 " Thou'rt a bad man," said Dame Price. " I'll no more with 
 you." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " laughed Rudleigh. " But I will more with 
 you, not-the-less. Thou hast quandaries of my reputation, then, 
 after all my love and my " 
 
 " Villain ! " exclaimed Dame Price, " thou hast triumphed, 
 and God help me ! God help me ! " 
 
 There was something so sad and touching in the tone in which 
 the dame's supplication to Heaven was pronounced, and its suc- 
 cession to the break in her speech, by the figure which orators 
 call aposiopesis, was so rapid and affecting, that, black-hearted 
 and unfeeling as he was, Ma«;ter Rudleigh was silenced. Dame 
 Price, exhausted by the agitation which she had sustained, sank 
 back in the stern of the boat ; and in less than half-an-hour after-
 
 t (Siiiipame^ 
 
 ^^a/rm^ .^^Uc&,//ru /'/u'y/)y?u^^y er/!yUiY/^^^ /^ '^u/^a »
 
 DICK VTHITTINGTON. 163 
 
 wards, when Rudleigh stopped at the secret entrance of the Tower 
 Royal, she Avas fast asleep. 
 
 Rudleigh unlocked the door of the Tower vaults, which were 
 so dark that he himself, used as he was to treading their humid 
 limits, could not have found his way well without a light, and 
 then returned to the boat and raised the sleeping dame in his 
 arms. He bore her up a flight of steps, which led to an upper 
 passage, where, having first laid her down on the damp stone 
 floor, he stripped her of her scarf and neckerchief. He then re- 
 turned to the boat, which he rowed to a terrace that ran along 
 the river-side, and there moored. 
 
 He did not seek any repose that night. Two hours after his 
 landing, having furnished himself with a lantern, together with 
 two loaves of bread and some water, he descended, through a trap- 
 door within the Tower, to the spot where he had left Dame Price. 
 He did not deem it necessary, though it was in his power, to 
 secure her in any of the dungeons, in which resolution he was 
 probably influenced by the circumstance of there being no other 
 prisoner, and by his possessing the exclusive power and privilege 
 of visiting those regions. The sudden glare of light issuing from 
 his lantern awakened the dame, Avho had slept soundly till that 
 moment ; and glancing round as far as her eyes could penetrate, 
 and then looking in the ferocious countenance of her gaoler, she 
 at once comprehended the complete misery of her situation. 
 
 ^' A fine lodging this, gammer," said Master Rudleigh. 
 
 " I will give no token," said the dame. 
 
 " Ay, but I have helped myself to your scarf, my leman,'' re- 
 plied Rudleigh. " And see you here, though your scarf will do 
 my turn as well as your word, you leave not this place till you 
 give consent. I will give your scarf to Eleanor, Avithout fail ; 
 and till I can come and tell you how dutiful she is, and what a 
 good Avife she makes, here is bread for you. Good den, sweet- 
 heart." 
 
 ^' A malison on you ! " cried the dame, grasping at his mantle. 
 
 Rudleigh struck her Avith his clenched fist on her breast ; and, 
 uttering a fainc cry, she fell backAvards on the floor. Rudleigh 
 Avended on his way ; he did not even turn to curse her, but as- 
 cended to the terrestrial apartments of the ToAver Royal, and thence 
 retired to his chamber. 
 
 HoAV Master Rudleigh was prevented by sundry circumstances 
 from carrying out his plan, hoAv he did present the stolen scarf to 
 Eleanor as coming from her mother, and hoAv he was thereupon 
 carried a prisoner to the threshold of Dame Alice's chamber, the 
 reader already knows. He knows, also, how Dame Price encoun- 
 tered Dick Whittington; and what further happened, on the 
 emergence of those two persons from the Tower Royal, these 
 chronicles will in due time make manifest.
 
 164 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. THE FUGITIVE. 
 
 A MARniAGE BETWEEN TWO CHARACTERS OF THIS HISTORY AP- 
 PEARS PROBABLE. A CERTAIN CAVALIER, BY THE ADVICE 
 OF THE JEW MEDICINER, FLIES THE PRESENCE OF LOVE. 
 
 Dame Alice Perrers, on l)eing informed of the circumstances 
 detailed in the preceding cliapter, expressed an anxious wish to 
 see her discarded steward elevated to the galloAvs tree ; but Master 
 Chaucer, who had been taking notes of the deposition of Dame 
 Price, suggested that it would be more prudent to submit the case 
 to a more legitimate tribunal. As Master Chaucer was one of 
 the law, or, as it Avould noAv be spoken, a member of the honour- 
 able society of the Inner Temple ; and as he argued the case, 
 notwithstanding the warmth of her language and temper, with the 
 coolness and ability of a thorough lawyer. Dame Alice at last 
 gave way, and, having summoned her chief warder into the 
 chamber, ordered Rudleigh to be placed in safe custod3\ 
 
 But if Dame Alice Avas passionate, and, when moved by pas- 
 sion, unjust — if slie was, as some liistorians have represented, 
 licentious, and haughty, and imperious — if she was all this, and 
 more, as some papistical writers Avould have us believe (though 
 their broad assertions, if this history were a proper vehicle for 
 disquisition, might be easily refuted) — she was, nevertheless, 
 liberal to the needy, kind to the unfortunate, and, where she con- 
 ceived a liking, a steady friend. She had often heard of, though 
 she had seldom seen. Master Simon Racket, Avhom she designated 
 by the name of the rattling mercer; and being well aware of his 
 attachment to Mistress Eleanor, and moved to pity by the suffer- 
 ings Avhich the lovers had endured, she determined to lend herald 
 to expedite their happiness. 
 
 Accordingly, having concealed Dame Price behind the tapestry 
 of the recess, she summoned the lovers to her presence ; and, 
 bidding them Avait her pleasure, conferred apart Avith Master 
 Chaucer. 
 
 Master Simon Racket had never felt so uncomfortable as he 
 did at that moment, for though he had a very felicitous idea of 
 the poAver of his personal charms, and, under the impression that 
 a great deal is involved in attitude, disposed himself in a most 
 fascinating posture— having his left hand Avith his bonnet over his
 
 DICK WniTTINGTON. 165 
 
 heart, his right leg advanced as a kind of prop to his body, his 
 head erect, his shoulders thrown back, and as he had no immediate 
 employment for his right ai-m, and felt it hanging like a dead 
 Aveight at his side, wishing it was cut off — notwithstanding this 
 disposition, than which scarce anything could be more irresistible, 
 the reflection that he was in the presence of Dame Alice Ferrers 
 depressed him. At last he descried Dick, and though startled at 
 his young friend's apparition, telegraphed him to approach. 
 
 " Sjoeak not, Dickon," he Avhispered, without looking at his 
 friend, for he was afraid that the slightest movement would spoil 
 his attitude, and he had therefore screwed up eveiy muscle to its 
 firmest rigidity — " Speak not, Dickon, for I'm a 'wildered man — 
 a fellow of dreams, a fashioner of drolleries, and I no more credit 
 my senses, or believe what is going on, than I do that you are 
 now alive. Look you, Dick, you may tell me the greatest lies 
 you can think of, and I sAvear you I'll believe them." 
 
 " I' faith," whispered Dick, " yoii've been talking so much 
 about Lancaster it has made you maudlin." 
 
 " Dickon," replied Master Simon, in the same low tone, " you 
 are 'wildered, and so I excuse you ; besides, these visions are 
 insubstantial." 
 
 " And is that not Mistress Eleanor there ? " asked Dick. 
 
 " You have the drollest conceits," replied Master Simon, " of 
 any dead fellow I ever met. Only it Avould spoil my attitude, 
 Vi^hich makes the man, I could laugh. Look you now, is there a 
 gentle sitting there with my dame Alice ? " 
 
 " Ay," answered Dick, " a lord or a bishop, I suppose, or a 
 judge at the least." 
 
 " And will you avouch," said Master Simon, " that Rudleigh 
 killed you not, and that these things are real ? " 
 
 " Certes, I Avill avouch this." 
 
 " Then speak no more, Dickon, for you shake my attitude. I 
 must change legs as it is." And Master Simon, having dexter- 
 ously slipped his bonnet from his left to his right hand, and raised 
 the latter over his hip, drew back his right leg, and planted his 
 left leg forwards. 
 
 Scarcely had Master Simon effected this arrangement, and 
 thrown into his broad features an expression of perfect serenity, 
 when Dame Alice suddenly looked up, and beckoned him and 
 Mistress Eleanor to advance. Now no command that Dame 
 Alice might have expressed could have been more inopportune. 
 Had Master Simon been suffered to remain in the position Avhich 
 he had taken up, and which, in his opinion, was so well calculated 
 to fascinate, he would have gone through the scene with tolerable 
 composure ; but his advance, Avhich entirely destroyed the beauties 
 of attitude, caused him to be conscious of his awkwardness. 
 " Your name is Racket?" said Dame Alice. 
 " Ay, gracious lady, at your ladyship's behest."
 
 166 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " Well," smiled Dame Alice, <' and you love this damsel ?" 
 
 Master Simon felt that, before company, this was a delicate 
 question to answer, and though urged on by Dick, who gave his 
 fi-ock several gentle tugs, by way of intimating the necessity of an 
 immediate reply, he seemed to be considering how to avoid com- 
 mitting himself. 
 
 ''Silence, I believe, means ay, Master Chaucer?" cried 
 Dame Alice Ferrers. 
 
 " With lovers, noble lady," replied the poet. 
 
 " And will you wed him, fair Eleanor?" continued the dame. 
 
 Mistress Eleanor blushed and held down her head, and not- 
 withstanding several " Oh fyes " from her mistress, and divers 
 " a-hems " from Master Simon, replied that she must consult her 
 mother. 
 
 " You will not wed, then, without your mother's sanction ? " 
 
 "'Twere undutiful, my lady." 
 
 "Well, then," cried Dame Alice, "your mother shall give 
 her sanction. Come forth, Dame Price, and make your child 
 happy." 
 
 Eleanor screamed, as, drawing aside the tapestry of the recess, 
 her mother presented herself. The next moment she was in her 
 mother's arms. 
 
 " Be it your province, Eleanor," said Dame Alice, *'tosee 
 your mother fittingly refreshed. You, Sir Mercer, can attend 
 your leman." 
 
 Master Simon, after executing a low bow, and saying " God 
 bless you, lady," made a hasty retreat from the room, in order 
 that a cold, which he had caught a few moments previous, might 
 not effuse itself from his eyes ; and Mistress Eleanor followed, 
 supporting her mother. Master Chaucer, also, rose to depart, 
 and on taking his leave, assured Dame Alice that he would 
 communicate to the Duke of Lancaster the offences which Rud- 
 leigli had perpetrated. 
 
 Left alone with Dick, whom she beckoned to approach. Dame 
 Alice reverted to the subject which had introduced our hero to 
 her notice. 
 
 " I am right sorry, my young page," she said, " for the mis- 
 haps which have chanced you. But take them not to heart, boy. 
 Fulfil only the mission I will intrust to you, and you shall soon 
 change your garments and your condition." 
 
 " 'Twere meed enough for me, fair lady, to be thy errand- 
 bearer." 
 
 " A pretty speech, boy," smiled Dame Alice, striking Dick 
 playfully with her glove, " but thou shalt have meed sterling. I 
 want you, now, to repair to Leaden Hall — not presently, but say 
 to-morrow, and tell Master Henry, the young cavalier, to come 
 hither forthwith. I have business of moment with him." 
 
 Dame Alice blushed as she spoke. She thought that Dick,
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 167 
 
 young and innocent as he was, could penetrate tlie thin veil which 
 she had thrown over her purpose, and she felt ashamed, as she 
 cloaked it with a falsehood, of her woman weakness. To one 
 who laughs at romance, even when it stands out in bold relief in 
 the world which we occupy, her conduct may appear unnatural ; 
 for love at first sight is accounted a joke too silly to be thought 
 of. Yet love — genuine and sterling love, is usually contracted at 
 first sight. It is at first sight that the heart receives the impres- 
 sion which, after one night's consultation with the pillow, ripens 
 into love — which creeps, as the vine creeps round its stay, over 
 the entire surface of the heart, and clings to the mind, and twines 
 with the thoughts, and blossoms with dreams, and bears with 
 memory, till, imperceptibly but surely, its wild luxuriance stifles 
 every other feeling, every other passion, all hope, all peace, all 
 happiness, except that which is comprised in and constitutes 
 fruition of the one object. No wonder, then, that Dame Alice 
 Perrers, who had been wont to gratify her every whim, however 
 fantastic, and whose peculiarity of temperament rendered her more 
 liable to abrujDt impressions, should so suddenly contract a tender 
 passion, and, having contracted it, give it head-way. Yet she 
 was not without delicacy, nor was she destitute of feminine feeling, 
 as the blush on her cheek fully testified. 
 
 " You may depart now, boy," she said, after a pause; "and 
 when you have done your errand, visit me again." 
 
 Dick made his bow, and emerged from the room. He de- 
 scended to the kitchen, where he found Master Simon and his 
 party, with whom he made himself merry till the evening. He 
 then returned home, and having paid his respects to Mistress 
 Alice, whom he encountered in the passage, retired to his 
 garret. 
 
 The next morning, having risen with the dawn, he set about 
 his work, and despite sundry cufis and considerable abuse, which 
 he sustained at the hands of Dame Williams, he dragged through 
 the day. It was past sunset when, slipping out of the house, he 
 sallied into the street, and proceeded to Leaden Hall. 
 
 Being provided with the pass-word, which had so instantane- 
 ously cleared his way on a former occasion, Dick approached the 
 hall door with less hesitation than he usually displayed, and 
 inquired of the porter for Master Henry. 
 
 " The young cavalier," replied the porter, " has been missing 
 these two past days. We have made search for him everywhere, 
 but neither he nor Hubert Cromwell, whom we suppose to be in 
 his company, can be found." 
 
 Dick turned away from the door with a feeling of disappoint- 
 ment, and, after a moment's consideration, determined to visit the 
 Jew mediciner, and ask his advice. While he is repairing thither, 
 to acquaint the Jew with circumstances which that person was 
 already informed of, it is necessary that this history retrograde, in
 
 168 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 order that Master Henry's disappearance may be satisfactorily 
 accounted for. 
 
 Master Henry was sitting in his chamber, in a very melancholy 
 and lover-like mood. As he is not the hero of this book, and the 
 chronicler, consequently, is not obliged to vindicate his conduct, 
 it may be supposed that he was like other young men, and that, 
 Avhen a fair lady smiled, he was tolerably vain. Now, though 
 he was sincerely and devotedly attached to the Lady Evaline 
 Bohun, Master Henry Avas not proof to the more matronly, but 
 haply more dazzling, charms of i)ame Alice Ferrers. He recol- 
 lected that that lady, when he bade her farewell, had suffered 
 such tender expressions to gush from her eyes, which he likened 
 to the batteries of love, that he had been overcome with surprise 
 and confusion ; and he remembered, too, that when he raised her 
 hand to his lips, and tliereon imprinted a kiss, that hand, which 
 was so fair, and round, and full, had trembled within his. It was 
 very imprudent in Master Henry to recollect these things, which, 
 if pleasant, were both dangerous and improper ; but Master 
 Henry, unfortunately, was no philosopher, and therefore he was 
 not aware of the mischief which may be perpetrated by a small 
 white hand and a lovely blue eye. But, as has been observed, he 
 was thinking of these things, and looking very sad and melan- 
 choly, when the door of his chamber was thrown open, and the 
 Jew mediciner entered. 
 
 Now there was nothing extraordinary in the Jew's appearance 
 at this particular moment. At any other time, when he had his 
 senses about him, Master Henry would scarcely have been sur- 
 prised if he had come out of the wall ; for without supposing that 
 he had disposed of his soul to a certain trafficker in that kind of 
 commodity, or even imputing to him any unbecoming familiarity 
 with naughty demons, he firmly believed the Jew to be an adept 
 in art magic, and consequently able to convey himself wherever 
 he pleased on the shortest possible notice. On the present oc- 
 casion, however, the sudden appearance of the mediciner, at a 
 time when he was indulging forbidden thoughts, seemed to amaze 
 him. He started from his seat, and grasped the hilt of his rapier, 
 and then, as if ashamed of his discomposure, dropped again into 
 his seat. 
 
 The Jew spoke never a Avord. He looked steadfastly in Master 
 Henry's face ; and there was a frown on his brow, and a flush on 
 his cheek; but his step was firm, and his figure erect. Master 
 Henry had a bold heart, but he could not sustain the steadfast 
 gaze of the mediciner ; he cast down his eyes, and looked confused. 
 
 " As I expected," muttered the Jew. 
 
 " And T prithee," asked the cavalier, hastilv, " what expected 
 you?" > J» 1 
 
 "To see you stranded on the shore of Folly," replied the me- 
 diciner.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON". 169 
 
 " Tut, a pin ! " cried Master Henry. " You grow too fa- 
 miliar." 
 
 There was a pause, when the mecliciner resumed : — ^' But I 
 expected not, Sir Cavalier, that you would reject a pilot who 
 proffered to bring you off the breakers." 
 
 " You speak in parables, Master Salmon," said the young cava- 
 lier. *' 'Tis a Hebrew mode of speech, I believe, but it tallies 
 not with the openness of English purpose. Deliver your oracle 
 in native phrase, and haply I will comprehend you." 
 
 " In native phrase, then," rejoined the Jew, — "Dame Alice 
 Ferrers affections you." 
 
 " You flatter me," said Master Henry, with becoming modesty. 
 
 " I meant it not, then," replied the mediciner, " but you broke 
 my speech. I was about to say you were a double-dealer, and, 
 consequently, a dishonoured gentleman," 
 
 Master Henry's cheeks burned with indignation. He half 
 drew his rapier, but let it drop again into the sheath. 
 
 " You pass too much on my forbearance, sir," he said. '' I 
 forget not services you have done my sire " 
 
 " Trifles," interrupted the Jew. 
 
 " And much favour you have shown me " 
 
 " Crimes," said Master Salmon. 
 
 ''Think you so?" cried the cavalier, as he paced the room 
 impatiently. " Be our differences forgotten, father," he added, 
 stopping short, and extending his hand. 
 
 The mediciner seized Master Henry's hand, and grasped it 
 cordially. 
 
 " My son," he said, as he detained Master Henry's hand, 
 " is not this hand, and your faith as a gentleman, already pledged ? 
 Have not I, by secret agencies which you wot not of, wrought 'to 
 obtain you a suitable mistress — as fair a creature as ever walked ? 
 Out on you. Sir Cavalier, would you give your hand to one 
 dame, and your heart to another — you, who are scarce a man 
 yet?" 
 
 " Nay, father," rei^lied Master Henry, '' but there is a certain 
 license " 
 
 '' License ! " cried the mediciner, throwing down Master 
 Henry's hand. " What mean you, sir ? " 
 
 " I mean," said the cavalier, " that I am what you spoke me 
 — a dishonoured gentleman." 
 
 " That shall you never be," replied the mediciner. " Think 
 of your sire, who is ploughing the great sea, and hiding his no- 
 bility beneath a mean habit, and sorting with foul-mouthed ma- 
 riners for very life. Think of yourself — a goodly cavalier, with 
 a fair, fond, and noble mistress, and a stout heart and good sword. 
 What think you of the wars, now ? " And the mediciner caught 
 up Master Henry's hand. " 'Twere fitting you, my son, to visit 
 the camp. A transport will leave Dover in a few days, with
 
 170 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 troops for Calais ; and, leaving me to settle matters here, you and 
 Hubert Cromwell can steal away to-night." 
 
 " Think you Hubert will go, father ? " 
 
 " He is even now making your preparations," replied the me- 
 diciner. " I informed him of my reasons, and conferred with 
 him thereupon, and he is eager to start." 
 
 '' Then I will bid you farewell, good mediciner," said Master 
 Henry, shaking the Jew's hand. 
 
 That night Master Henry Sinclair and Hubert Cromwell dis- 
 appeared from Leaden Hall. As, however, Dick was not aware 
 of the circumstances that had induced their flight, and doubted not 
 but that Sir Alfred Sinclair was some way concerned in it, he 
 hastened to impart it to the mediciner. He was surprised, as well 
 as vexed, at the coolness with which that person listened to his 
 intelligence; and he was thinking that it would be as well not to 
 divulge the errand which had taken him thither, when the medi- 
 ciner inquired what had led him to Leaden Hall. Dick, not 
 without some hesitation, explained. 
 
 " Was Simon Racket with you?" asked the mediciner. 
 
 " No, father," replied Dick. " I was bidden to tell the matter 
 to none, and Master Simon was engaged elsewhere." And he 
 related what had happened to the rattling mercer. 
 
 " I wish him joy, with all my heart," said the Jew, " and 
 hope to see Rudleigh hanged. I will thither straight ; and mind, 
 my son, you go not to Dame Alice again." 
 
 And, taking up his cap, the mediciner sallied forth, leaving 
 Dick to the care of Miriam. 
 
 Both these latter persons were becoming more attached to each 
 other as their acquaintance progressed. Had they been of riper 
 years, and under the same circumstances thrown so frequently 
 together, their intimacy might have been dangerous ; and even as 
 matters were, considering how lasting are early impressions, and 
 how enthusiastic and susceptible the generality of youthful minds, 
 their fellowship, perhaps, was not politic. But these things are 
 beyond human foresight, else how is it, or wherefore, that in the 
 sweet season of youth, which gilds everything that it shines upon, 
 and presents hopes as varied and as beautiful as the hues of the 
 rainbow — how is it, or wherefore, that we then lay up in the store- 
 house of memory a heap of painful incidents — train fond recollec- 
 tions round ruined hopes, and often, after years of care and 
 anxiety, twine weary and unrequited love round a lone and broken 
 heart ? But the chronicler must not anticipate events. 
 
 Dick was progressing rapidly under the tuition of his lovely 
 instructress. He was already master of the alphabet, and his 
 success in this first step up the ladder of letters made him more 
 eawer for further acquirements. Miriam, on her part, was de- 
 lighted with her pupil, and strove her utmost to improve him. 
 
 *< Dickon," she said, as she laid down the roll from which she
 
 DICK WHITTINGTOK. 171 
 
 had been teaching him — volumes were at that time written on 
 rolls of parchment or vellum — " Dickon," she said, as she laid 
 down the unwieldly roll, and peered into his smiling face, '' you 
 will soon be a learned scholar." 
 
 " When will I equal you, mistress ? " 
 
 '* Soon, very soon," smiled Miriam, shaking her dark tresses. 
 " But, Dickon, when is Simon Racket to be wedded?" 
 
 " I know not, fair mistress," replied Dick. " The day, I be- 
 lieve, is not yet fixed." 
 
 " Is his mistress fair, Dickon ? " 
 
 " Both fair and good," replied Dick. " I love her next to you 
 and Mistress Alice." 
 
 " Then she must be good," said Miriam. '' Have you been 
 with them to-day ? " 
 
 *' No. I wished to see you first, mistress. But I must hie 
 away, or Master Simon will think ill of me.' 
 
 And Dick kissed Miriam's hand, and bounded down the stairs. 
 He passed from the house, and hastened to Master Simon's lodg- 
 ings ; but as that person was abroad, and it was now growing 
 late, he determined to return home, whither he forthwith repaired.
 
 172 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. THE DUEL. 
 
 OF A WEEDING AT WHICH DICK WHITTINGTON WAS A GUEST. OF A 
 CONFERENCE BETWEEN DICK WHITTINGTON AND MASTER SIMON 
 RACKET. OF A DUEL IN THE TOWER KOYAL. 
 
 Master Simon Racket, when his marriage Avith Mistress Eleanor 
 was decided npon, was as happy as such a change of fortune 
 conld possibly make him. He did not, however, evince any dis- 
 j)osition for noisy festivity, or, to use a modern though less classical 
 term, spreeing, which, for some years previous, had procured him 
 the appellation of Racketty. But this circumstance admits of a 
 satisfactory explanation. He imagined, like a philosopher as he 
 was, that such eccentricities, hov\'ever innocent and becoming in 
 the unhappy state of bachelorship, were not exactly the thing in 
 a married man, who, as the sage of old had sagaciously remarked, 
 should devote a portion of his time towards setting his house in 
 order. This Master Simon inwardly resolved to do, and, though 
 he had some vague notion that it was rather a woman's duty, he 
 practised for an hour every morning on his household furniture, 
 which he dusted and polished and set in order with admirable ex- 
 pertness. He moreover adopted, by way of preliminary to a 
 more rigid deportment, that gravity of demeanour and sobriety 
 of discourse which befitted so serious an occasion, and which, 
 after conferring thereupon with the mediciner, he was resolved to 
 maintain through life. This was an excellent resolution, and 
 would doubtless have led to many important results, spiritual as 
 well as temporal, but for one solitary reason — Master Simon's in- 
 ability to adhere to it. He contrived, nevertheless, to drag 
 through several days with a very respectable face, though it was 
 evident, as the wedding-day drew nigh, that his respectability of 
 aspect would soon undergo a metamorphosis. 
 
 At length, about a week after the events detailed in the last 
 chapter, the wedding-day of Master Simon and Mistress Eleanor 
 dawned. The chronicler, if he pleased, could expatiate on the 
 fineness of the weather, the habiliments of the bridal party, the 
 Ijeauty and modesty of the bride, the gallantry and boldness of 
 the bridegroom, and a variety of other matters equally interesting ; 
 but it may be sufficient to affirm, as solemnly as a few words will
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 173 
 
 allow, that all things passed off with eclat. The bride and bride- 
 groom were wedded in the chapel of the Tower Royal, and re- 
 ceived the nuptial benediction from the mouth of Dame Alice's 
 chaplain, who, if he were not a downright Lollard, was at least a 
 Lancastrian, and therefore acceptable in the eyes of Master Simon. 
 It Avould be tedious to enter into the festivity that succeeded the 
 marriage ceremony ; and therefore, leaving these things to tlie 
 imagination of the reader, the chronicler will pass on to the nup- 
 tial evening, when a snug party had assembled at Master Simon's 
 lodgings. 
 
 The apartment in which the company were located was ca- 
 pacious in its dimensions, and if such a measure had been desira- 
 ble, and consistent with the privacy which ought to characterize 
 weddings, would have afforded accommodation to a greater num- 
 ber of inmates. The wainscot was of beech, as was also the 
 ceiling. In one corner was a recess, partitioned from the room 
 by a curtain of baize, which curtain concealed the various con- 
 veniences that were deposited within. The settles were of elm, 
 seated Avith rushes, and were placed round a small and circular 
 oak table, that stood in front of the fire. The table was garnished 
 with several platters, which were loaded with apples and pears, 
 bridal-cake and nuts — three or four leather flasks, containing wine 
 and metheglin ; and six glasses, corresponding in number to the 
 persons who sat around. The celestial herb — tobacco, was as yet 
 unknown in this country, or it would doubtless have formed a 
 delicate addition to Master Simon's feast. 
 
 The bridegroom sat between his bride and her mother, and 
 Miriam Salmon sat between her father and Dick Whittinoton, 
 and these persons constituted the festive party. Miriam and Dick 
 were amusing themselves with two respectable-looking pieces of 
 bride-cake, which had just been handed to them by the good- 
 natured bride, when the mediciner arose, and having filled the 
 glasses of the full-grown with Avine, and the glasses of the ju- 
 veniles Avith metheglin, proposed the health of Dame Eleanor 
 Racket. 
 
 " I am the more proudful of this," said Master Simon, laying 
 doAvn his glass, and grasping the Jcav's hand, "because you 
 herein set an example to bigots to relax their prejudices. 'T is 
 not, as I am aAvaros, the custom of your nation to drink pledges, 
 yet have you drank to me and mine. And noAv, father, in return 
 for your good Avishes, I Avill give you a pledge, Avhich, if it fall 
 out Avell, Avill go far to franchise they of your belief, and Avhich, 
 as from a celestial heart in a nation's bosom, Avill diffiise through 
 the veins of all creeds the SAveet stream of religious liberty. This, 
 I aver, is the spr'ng of all freedom, and, feeling this, I pledge you 
 to the Aveal of the Reformed Church." 
 
 " You push me hard, brother Simon," returned the Jcav. " I 
 know Avhat you say to be true, and think the doctrines of Sir John
 
 174 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Wickliffe, your high priest, insure protection to all who dissent ; 
 but still, Simon, you know that I am no believer in your Chris- 
 tian creed. Howbeit, as I love you, and am ready to fight for 
 this Reformed Church, feeling that next to my own it is the best, 
 I will pledge you to its political weal." 
 
 " Now, Dickon," said Master Simon, perceiving that Dick did 
 not appear to relish this toast, "thou look'st sour. Tut, my 
 gaffer, wilt clench thy teeth at a pledge, or shut thy mouth to 
 bride-cake. Cheer thee up, boy ; and we will no more of these 
 ware." 
 
 " Right, Simon," remarked Dame Eleanor Racket, " such 
 pledges suit not among Christian people. To free us from such 
 mar-joys, and restore our merry humour, prithee sing a song, 
 Dickon." 
 
 " I will, fair dame," cried Dick. " Thou shalt have 
 
 " The hearth of home, by heart of truth, 
 
 Above all else is prized ; 
 For in its round, in early youth, 
 
 Were all our joys comprised. 
 The hearth of native home ! 
 
 The hearth ! 
 The hearth of native home ! 
 
 There will you sit, on wintry night, 
 
 While ghostly tale is told. 
 And forms and faces, Avove of light, 
 
 The crackling logs unfold. 
 The hearth, &c. 
 
 And there, of yore, did dam and sire, 
 
 And sisters, brothers meet ; 
 And though they're gone, though quench'd the fire. 
 
 The mem'ry still is sweet. 
 The hearth, &c. 
 
 And if we can, before v.e die. 
 
 Another hearth attain, 
 Why, woman's voice and woman's eye 
 
 Will ' liven it agam. 
 The hearth, &c. 
 
 And we can then recal the day 
 
 That time will ne'er restore. 
 And kinsmen dead, and friends away, 
 
 Whose hearths we loved of yore. 
 The hearth, &c." 
 
 " 'T is true," said Master Simon, when Dick had finished his 
 song, " and thou hast celebrated the circumstance in good tune."
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON 175 
 
 " He has sung it sAveetly," murmured Miriam, pressing Dick's 
 hand. " Wilt not thou afford a song, Master Simon ? " 
 
 "Ay, pretty Mistress," replied Master Simon; "and, since 
 thou hast asked so gently, will sing thee one which thou hast 
 never heard." ^ 
 
 This declaration was applauded by all the company, and having 
 disposed of a cup of wine, and cleared his throat with two pre- 
 liminary a-hems, Master Simon began thus : — 
 
 %\it €^m%ti at Eobe. 
 
 " Love hath seasons like to Time, 
 
 And varied as the fickle year ; 
 Smiles in winter, and in prime 
 
 Of summer sometimes sheds a tear. 
 In his spring, like April day, 
 
 His face is oft obscured by showers ; 
 Summer comes, like joyous May, 
 
 And then he dAvells among the flowers. 
 
 Autumn, though it steals his tints, 
 
 May not beyond the leaf distress ; 
 Like the oak he mocks the dints 
 
 That Time would on his heart impress : 
 And when winter draweth nigh, 
 
 And dashes o'er his upright crest, 
 Then he bends, without a sigh. 
 
 Upon a sj-mpathizing breast. 
 
 Love, then, maiden, is the star 
 
 That cheers us in our pilgrimage ; 
 And thy smiles and kisses are 
 
 The music surest to engage. 
 Maiden, come, then, to my heart. 
 
 For Love is in his summer now ; 
 And we'U wed ere he depart 
 
 With beauty, hope, and passion's glow." 
 
 Master Simon, while he was singing the last stanza, insinuated 
 his arm round the taper waist of his bride, and pressed her little 
 hand against his heart, and Dame Eleanor, unconsciously re- 
 turning the pressure of his hand, gazed steadfastly at the old 
 wainscot opposite, not because the old wainscot had anything par- 
 ticular in its aspect, but because she wished to avoid the eyes of 
 her guests. Miriam and Dick began to converse apart, though, 
 as they spoke with their mouths full of cake, it were strange if 
 they understood each other, and the mediciner and Dame Price 
 were interchanging civilities, and speaking in an under tone, when 
 a stentorian voice was heard without. 
 
 " So ho, there ! Master Simon Racket ! So ho ! So ho! " 
 " Who is this noisy fellow ? " asked the Jew. " I prithee, 
 Simon, let me answer him."
 
 176 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 '' No, no," said Master Simon. " I think I know his speech. 
 Sit you still, Sir Mediciner." 
 
 Master Simon rose, and sallied forth. He closed the door after 
 him, and descended the stairs, and having no light, nearly fell over 
 a person who was ascending, and whom he discovered to be the 
 oaunt falconer from the Tower Royal. 
 
 ^' Hilloa you," cried tlie falconer. " Give me sword-room, you 
 curmudgeon, you ale-tippler, you Jack o' the dark." 
 
 ''I beg grace," replied Master Simon. '* It is I, Simon 
 Racket." 
 
 " Now, good Gaffer Simon," said the falconer, " was it you I 
 gave such scurvy terms to ? I will give you satisfaction, Simon. 
 Draw your rapier, and we will even hght i' the dark." 
 
 " No, no, Sir Falconer, I have satisfaction in thy apology. 
 But what hath brought thee hither so late ? " 
 
 " I come on your obligation, good Simon," continued the fal- 
 coner. " I wish to do you favours j and that scurvy steward, 
 who is prisoned in the Tower Real, is willing on my persuasion. 
 Thus it is, then ; you have personal wrongs from this caitiff, and 
 wherefore, when you cariy rapier, should galloAvs do your re- 
 venge ? " 
 
 ''Itakevou," said Master Simon. "You think I would be 
 glad for the duello?" 
 
 " Glad," returned the falconer ; " to-be-sure thou wilt ; and I 
 will swear you by yea and no, and by all that men of honour 
 practise, that if he kills you, I will do my best to kill him after." 
 
 "Thy hand on 'i," said Master Simon, grasping the falconer's 
 hand. " But how will we fare for the lists ? Is not he in 
 prison ? " 
 
 "Is not he in prison ! " echoed the falconer; "to-be-sure he is. 
 Then leave, I beseech you, the contrivances to me. Am not I in 
 charge ? have not I responsibilities, keys, rapiers ? And am not 
 I your seconds, and his seconds, and seconds to both of you ? " 
 
 " Thou speakest sooth," said Master Simon. 
 
 "Go to, then!" rejoined the falconer. "I like thy mettle 
 well, and 't is hard that thou shoiildst be pitted against this knave. 
 But, to speak you comfort, though he be a knave, he is a master 
 of fence ; and thou wilt stand as fair a chance of being run 
 through the body by him as thou wouldst by a better man." 
 
 Having delivered himself of this oracle, which would, he 
 thought, remove from Master Simon's mind all disinclination to 
 the proposed duel, even if he had entertained the strongest ob- 
 jections originally, the falconer shook Master Simon cordially by 
 the hand, and groped his way down the stairs. Master Simon 
 returned to his own chamber ; and shortly afterwards the party 
 assembled there separated for the night. 
 
 It w;is not yet ten o'clock, but, notwithstanding that he had ob- 
 tained permission from Mistress Alice, Dick Whittington, on
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 177 
 
 returning home, received a severe beating from the cook for re- 
 maining out so late. Covered with weals, the eftect of this 
 brutal correction, he ascended to his garret, and sobbed himself to 
 sleep. 
 
 What boy, who has once been acquainted with it, can ever forget 
 the cruel cane, which, as those persons who have tasted both will 
 know, is such an improvement on the stinging properties of the 
 birch ? What man, meditating on a cane, but will associate it 
 straightway with some innocent memory of boyhood — such as 
 robbing an orchard, breaking bounds, or the declension of sub- 
 stantives ? Those persons Avho have such fond reminiscences of 
 early canes, which come upon them like the light of other days, 
 will be able to enter into what, without poetical flourish, may be 
 termed the wounded feelings of our hero, when, on the morning 
 after the wedding-day of Master Simon, he rose from his hard 
 couch. It Avould be vain, as no sympathy could be expected, to 
 describe them to people who have never suffered from similar 
 outrages, and the chronicler, therefore, will pass them over with- 
 out remark. 
 
 But Dick's feelings forced themselves on his own consideration 
 throughout the day. He was, howevei', somewhat reconciled to 
 them by eventide, Avlien Master Simon, as he had promised on the 
 jjreceding night, summoned him forth. 
 
 The two friends walked on in silence, down Cornhill and Cheap- 
 side, to Smoothfield — then, as its name imported, a level and open 
 field — now called Smithfield. They sat down in one corner, on a 
 stone which served as a pound for cattle, and still remained silent; 
 for Dick saw that something weighed on his friend's mind, and he 
 waited for him to begin the conversation. 
 
 '' Dick," said Master Simon at length, "give me your hand. 
 There, boy, you know I love you." 
 
 "■ I know you do, sir," returned Dick, standing up, for the 
 caning of the preceding night made sitting for any length of time 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 " Well, sit down, Dick." 
 
 Dick sat down, wincing. 
 
 " I have brought you out, Dick," said Master Simon, " be- 
 cause I know no other whom I could trust so well. The medi- 
 ciner — in sooth, a good fellow — would haply seek to overrule me 
 with his objections, and preach to me of discretion. I have there- 
 fore brought you ; and to you, Dick, if ill should fall, I trust my 
 last love to my bride." 
 
 " What mean you. Master Simon ? " asked Dick, stooping his 
 head, and looking up anxiously in his friend's face. 
 
 " You Avill see," returned Master Simon, " for yoii shall with 
 me at dusk. But, to speak of my love, — tell her my last word 
 was Eleanor." 
 
 No answer from Dick.
 
 178 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " Was there ever such a sniveller ? " exclaimed Master Simon. 
 " Wherefore are you twisting my hand so ? I tell you all will be 
 rio-ht. I have measured distances with him before, and I have 
 practised Avith my weapon." 
 ''Whom fight you?" 
 
 " Rudleigh," replied the mercer. " If I fight him not now, 
 he will be hanged, and galloAvs will step between my enemy and 
 me. 
 
 " And gallows were a fit interposer," said Dick. " Wherefore, 
 kind sir, should you peril life and conscience, and the happiness 
 of your sweet spouse, with an enemy who is claimed by the hang- 
 man?" 
 
 " Now, Dick," returned the other, " seek not to play Master 
 Salmon with me, else I must leave you in dudgeon. I have to keep 
 my OAvn account with heaven, without a priest to reckon my mis- 
 deeds, and charge me testers therefore. Cease your arguings, then, 
 and listen to my speech. Tell Eleanor to be your mother." 
 "Oh, you must not." 
 
 " Now, I will give you a crack directly," said Master Simon, 
 turning his head aside, in order that Dick might not see a tear 
 that trickled down his cheek. " You 're a fool. I care not a fig 
 for you." 
 
 Dick only pressed Master Simon's hand, and Master Simon 
 pressed his in return, and swore that he hated him. 
 
 " 'T is hard," said Master Simon, "that a poor fellow is to be 
 bullied out of his Avits in this fashion. Come, come, I'll say no 
 more. Get up, now ; for 't Avill be dark by the time we reach the 
 Tower Royal." 
 
 And Master Simon rose, longing for the moment which would 
 place him in the lists Avith his enemy. Let not his disposition be 
 too hastily condemned ; for in that age, be it remembered, the 
 duel was not only considered legitimate by the state, but recog- 
 nized as a direct appeal to the justice of heaven by the established 
 church. That so barbarous an institution should still prevail — 
 that cold-blooded malice and diabolical hate should be allowed to 
 perpetrate such enormities 7ww — that that which is so damnable a 
 sin in the eyes of heaven, and so direct and contumacious an in- 
 fringement of human laws — Avhich, in fact, is resorted to, not 
 from any regard to the psuedo punctilios of honour, but from 
 a cowardly and brutal deference to the coxcomb Avorld — that 
 this infamous practice still exists, and in England, is perhaps 
 owing to one man, Avho, when he was placed above all others by 
 his matchless deeds, when his name was written on the page of 
 history in the brightest characters that the muse could trace, Avhen 
 he Avas lauded as the Avarrior and statesman and patriot, suff'ered 
 the blot of a duel to drop on his lucid scutcheon. 
 
 Master Simon Racket had no such precedent before him, but 
 his conduct A\as in keeping AA'ith the dark times in Avhich he lived.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 179 
 
 He walked along slowly, talking to Dick as he progressed, and 
 by the time they had reached the Tower Royal, though the dis- 
 tance was not great, it was quite dark. They found the falconer 
 waiting for them at the gate. Leading them through a dark pas- 
 sage which undermined the rampart, he brought them out in an 
 inner court, where he gave Dick two torches. He soon ignited 
 these, having previously provided a lucific apparatus ; and thrust- 
 ing Dick and Master Simon into a door-way, of which he had 
 the key, he demanded Master Simon's rapier. This he mated 
 with another, which he took from a rack within the passage, and 
 then led on his two visitors. 
 
 They descended a flight of stairs composed of stone, yet so 
 worn as to be both slippery and dangerous ; but by the help of a 
 sort of conductor, which ran down on one side, they contrived to 
 reach the bottom unhurt. They passed thence into a large and 
 dark room, whence several cells and passages branched off. 
 
 Returning Master Simon his rapier, and taking a key from his 
 girdle, the falconer imlocked one of the cell doors, and called its 
 inmate forth. Rudleigh, who Avas the occupant of the cell, im- 
 mediately came out, and darted a fierce look at Master Simon, 
 who returned it with interest. The falconer then presented Rud- 
 leigh with his weapon, and having stationed Dick with a torch on 
 one side of the room, and placed himself with another torch op- 
 posite, he bade the combatants set-to. 
 
 There could not be a better matched duel. Each with vigilant 
 and wary eye watched his antagonist, yet an inexperienced 
 swordsman could scarcely have followed the weapons. There 
 Avas the feint, the allonge, the stoccado, and the stive ; — there was, 
 as Master Simon Avould have said, the puntos, alto, reverso, and 
 thrusto, yet neither of the combatants received a Avound. Clash 
 went the Aveapons, and, as they clashed and clashed again, a round 
 of oaths, by way of applause, Avould burst from the falconer, 
 who, if he Avas not an efficient, Avas at least an impartial second. 
 . "Mind your guard. Master Rudleigh," he cried. "Now, 
 Master Racket, look to your allonge. Soh, boys ! Good ! Noav, 
 gallants, be not too long, for 't is cold Avork standing by. Have 
 at him, Simon ! Bravely done, Rudleigh ! No — no — no. — By 'r 
 Lady, you 've drilled a hole through his body ! " 
 
 A.nd the falconer ran to the assistance of Rudleigh, who, utter- 
 ing a faint groan, fell bleeding to the groimd. 
 
 " Comfort, man," said the falconer. "'T will soon be over, I 
 promise thee." 
 
 " Alas ! " faintly articulated the sufferer. 
 
 " Canst not take comfort ? " asked the falconer. " Will not 
 thei'e be three of us hanged for thee, and is not that a sufficiency ? " 
 
 " Hush, he is dying ! " cried Master Simon, putting his arms 
 under Rudleigh, and holding up his head and shoulders. 
 
 The dying man moved his lips, as though he wished to speak,
 
 180 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 and Master Simon bent his ear to his mouth, in the hope tliat he 
 might be able to make out his wants. He heard him mutter 
 " Ora pro nobis" and the Avord " priest," and he told him to 
 supplicate his Redeemer, Avho, in order that none should despair, 
 had pardoned the thief on the cross. 
 
 " Master Racket is a good fellow," said the falconer to Dick, 
 as he marked Master Simon's attentions to the dying man ; " but 
 he hath his faults, boy. He hath excellent skill at his weapon, 
 will drink you good wine like a fish, play you cricket for love, 
 beat you at quoits, throw you at the wrestle, and yet, maugre all 
 these good qualities, he is somewhat careful for religion. 'T is a 
 pity, too." 
 
 Hei'e the falconer's discourse (not one word of Avhich had been 
 heard by Dick) Avas interrupted by a hoarse rattle in the throat 
 of Rudleigh. It was evidently his last struggle — and how ter- 
 rible it was ! Dick turned away his head, for he could not abide 
 the livid horror, the quaking remorse, the deadly agony that stood 
 out on that ghastly face. His hair was on end, as though every 
 solitary hair Avere Avire, and he seemed, as he moved his hands 
 backAvards and forAvards before him, to be clutching at those 
 feathery appearances Avhich are set doAvn in the Fades Hijrpocra- 
 tica. Even the falconer, Avho never gave a thought to death, was 
 silenced as the last sad note of life Avas rattled out ; and the beads 
 of cold SAveat that rolled sloAvly doAvn his face, and the fixed in- 
 tensity of his stare, shoAved that Master Simon was not uncon- 
 cerned. 
 
 " 'T is all over," said Master Simon, extending the body on the 
 ground. " God haA^e mercy on me — a murtherer ! " 
 
 "Comfort, man, comfort," observed the falconer; "'tis not 
 exactly murther. I have killed my three men at the duello, al- 
 lowed by the code of consequence, and should like to hear a 
 felloAv, save thyself, call it otherAvise than honourable fighting. 
 Besides, as this aflfair Avas done underhand, Ave shall make our 
 atonements. We Avill be hanged, Simon ; and there's an end of 't, 
 and of us too." 
 
 " This reconciles me not," replied Master Simon. " But Avhat 
 shall Ave do Avith the corse ? " 
 
 " Place it on my shoulders," said the falconer. " Come hither 
 to-morroAv, and Ave Avill impait the event to Dame Alice. She 
 may be disposed to beg us off." 
 
 Raising the body of" the deceased, and placing the arms round 
 the falconer's neck, Master Simon assisted to remove it to the 
 inner court afore mentioned. Dick preceded them with a torch, 
 Avhich, on reaching the court, he extinguished. They entered a 
 narroAv archAvay, Avhich had no door, and descended a flight of 
 steps, Avhere Avas a door bolted and barred. Dick, by the "direc- 
 tion of tho falconer, removed the fastenings and opened the door, 
 ■which disclosed a second grecce of steps, descending to the riA^er.
 
 Cy^^ ^iZlu^/^ A^y/ /x?^.-cAy- 
 
 ■,7h /A& tttm^^jjfiita a/ f^^ '^njw £1!; - HejJ!:!
 
 t»ICK XVHITTINGTON. 181 
 
 The river Avas near high water, so that a boat that was moored 
 alongside, ready for immediate nse, was afloat. In this they de- 
 posited the body, together with one of the steps, which happened 
 to be loose, and then stepped into the boat themselves. Dick took 
 the rndder, and Master Simon and the falconer an oar each, and 
 the boat moved silently from the shore. They had gone about a 
 boat's length, and were preparing to give quicker way, when they 
 were challenged by the sentinel on the marine rampart — 
 
 *' Who goes there ? " 
 
 " A friend," replied the falconer. 
 
 '' The watchword ? " 
 
 " Water." 
 
 " Pass on :— all's well." 
 
 They pulled in an oblique direction up the river, and stopped 
 not till they had reached the centre, nearly opposite the Savoy. 
 Here the falconer bade Master Simon stay his oar. 
 
 " We must drojD our load here," he said. " Necessity com- 
 mands us." 
 
 " But my conscience is reluctant," said Master Simon. 
 
 "Credit me, then," replied the falconer, "thy conscience is 
 both a coward and a traitor. ' Self-preservation,' says the vicar, 
 when he comforts himself with the sacrament wine, ' is the first 
 law of nature.' So here goes." 
 
 The falconer stooped down into the boat, and with the help of 
 Master Simon, who could not deny the policy of the measure, 
 wrapped the stone step — which, as has been before observed, they 
 brought with them — in the garments of Rudlelgh, and tossed him 
 into the river. Near to the very spot which he had bade Dame 
 Price mark, in the same dark water in which he had threatened 
 to plunge his victim, — without a sigh or tear or prayer, without 
 a solitary formality or farewell, without the commonest rag of 
 funeral furniture, without so much as a shroud to deck him for 
 the fish, the remains of the miscreant Rudleigh were consigned 
 to their grave. Never a bell knelled for him — for him no con- 
 secrated priest, either of his own church or that which, like a 
 phcenix, was to rise from the ashes of its own martyrs, ever inter- 
 ceded; no green tiirf or flowers covered him, no memorial or 
 epitaph marked his sepulchre ; but he sank, and rotted and dis- 
 solved in condign and inconceivable oblivion. 
 
 " Poor devil," said the falconer, as he watched the rippling 
 circle which the immersion of Rudleigh's body had created, " I 
 fear me you 've gone to a warm country. Give way, brother 
 Simon, and I will land you at the bridge stairs." 
 
 Master Simon gave way, and the boat shot fleetly through the 
 water. They soon i-eached the stairs of London Bridge, near the 
 spot where the Fishmongers' Hall now stands ; and Master Simon 
 and Dick, having taken leave of the falconer, ascended the stairs. 
 They proceeded in silence to Leadenhall street, where Dick parted
 
 182 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 with Master Simoii. He did not, however, gain admission into 
 his master's house, which was closed, and he therefore repaired to 
 the domicile of the mediciner. He knocked at the door, and 
 was straightway admitted by the Jew, to whom he imfolded the 
 events of the night. Miriam had been some time in bed ; and 
 stretching himself on some cushions, in a closet to which he was 
 introduced by the Jew, Dick disposed himself to sleep.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON, 183 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. THE FLIGHT. 
 
 OF DICK WHITTINGTOn's FLIGHT FROM THE HOUSE OF MASTER 
 FITZWARREN. 
 
 Dick Whittington returned to his master's house early on the 
 following morning. He had the satisfaction of learning, on the 
 evening of that day, that Dame Alice Perrers had promised her 
 protection to Master Simon Racket and the falconer, and in a few 
 days, during which Master Simon confined himself to his lodgings, 
 the duel in Avhich Rudleigh had been killed was very prudently 
 hushed up. It was fortunate both for Master Simon and the fal- 
 coner, that Dame Alice Perrers acted in this matter with her usual 
 promptitude, else the death of Edward the Third, which happened 
 on the 25th of June, and which entirely destroyed her political influ- 
 ence, would have left them exposed to the interlisrence of the law. The 
 accession of Richard the Second to the throne, notwithstanding that 
 the Duke of Lancaster still held the most influential position in 
 the regency, left that lady open to the animosity of a virulent and 
 bigoted faction, by whom, at length, she was committed a prisoner 
 to the Tower of London. There, for the present, this history 
 will leave her ; and though it hath hitherto, like a tortoise, moved 
 tardily on, without missing one of those incidents which tradition 
 hath associated with its hero, it is now necessary that the chronicler, 
 throwing off" the fetters of composition, expedite his passage down 
 the stream of time. 
 
 Dick's avocations, though anything but agreeable, did not irk 
 him, for he had always in perspective two visits which he paid to 
 Miriam and Master Simon every evening ; and the prospect of 
 seeing his friends when his work was over, and the sanguine tem- 
 perament with which he was endued, would have supported him 
 under more arduous labour. One thing, indeed, caused him much 
 uneasiness, and that was the company which resorted to his dor- 
 mitory at night. But for this, and the constant ill-treatment that 
 he sustained from Dame Williams, he would have been contented ; 
 for though he was ambitious, and an aspirant for greater respect- 
 ability of station, he believed, as Master Simon affirmed, that 
 "perseverance accomplisheth many things," and that time would 
 advance him according to his deserts. In this opinion he was
 
 184 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 confirmed by Master Simon, who proposed also to teach him the 
 craft of a mercer. Master Simon, indeed, was not a master- 
 tradesman himself, and therefore was not in want of, nor able to 
 maintain, an apprentice ; but he was a freeman of the city, and 
 any one avIio served an apprenticeship to him, and chose to set up 
 in business afterwards, would likewise be entitled to his freedom. 
 
 " I can't afford to provender you, Dick," he said, " so you Avill 
 continue in Master Fitzwarren's service. I Avill have indentures 
 made, 1 promise you, and you shall have an hour's teaching every 
 night." 
 
 This, with the instruction he received from Miriam, opened 
 the door to that independence which Dick so much coveted. He 
 became more than ever reconciled to his situation, for if the ill- 
 iisaofe of the cook vexed and discouraged him, he was cheered 
 and emboldened by the kindness of Mistress Alice. But Fortune, 
 that fickle and incontinent female, had other trials in store for 
 him. 
 
 Mistress Alice Fitzwarren possessed a carcanet, or necklace, 
 made of small gold beads, which she always wore in memory of 
 her mother. On one occasion, when jrivino; directions to Dame 
 Williams, she had taken it off", and having laid it down on the 
 dresser, retired fi-om the kitchen without it. About an hour after, 
 remembering the circumstance, she descended to the kitchen to 
 recover it. The necklace, however, was not there. A search was 
 forthwith commenced, and dishes, and platters, and beakers, 
 places likely and unlikely, strictly examined ; but in vain, no car- 
 canet was visible. This was too great a loss to be sustained in 
 silence, and Mistress Alice, consequently, mentioned it to her 
 father, Avho, swearing that he was entertaining thieves in his 
 house, descended to the kitchen to institute an inquiry. 
 
 Master Fitzwarren maintained one domestic only besides Dame 
 Williams and Dick. This was an old Avoman, who, in modern 
 parlance, wotild be designated a maid-of-all-work. She Avas of a 
 quiet disposition, and a tacittirn, Avhich Avas owing alike to her 
 incorrigible deafness and her invincible stupidity. She aa'us not 
 wanting in good nature, for she had often given Dick his supper 
 Avhen it Avas denied him by the cook ; but Avhether it Avas that she 
 feared to offend the latter person, or that, as she expressed her- 
 self, " she did not like to run her nose into other people's pud- 
 dings ! " she never interfered IjetAveen Dame Williams and Dick. 
 Indeed, on the contrary, she tised frequently to make use of tlie 
 venerable proverb, " s]iare the rod — s])oil tlie child," Avhich is 
 so often used as an apology for cruelty to children ; and her dis- 
 course generally Avas intermixed Avith sayings of equal repute and 
 amiability. 
 
 This old Avoman and Dick Avere engaged at their respective 
 avocations, and taking no notice of the loquacity of Dame Wil- 
 liams, Avhen Master FitzAA'arren and his daughter entered the 
 kitchen.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 185 
 
 " Ho you ! " cried Master Fitzwarren, " have you searched 
 thoroughly for my daughter's carcanet ? " 
 
 '' Aye, sir," answered Dame Williams and Dick. Dame 
 Grammont, being deaf, did not comprehend Master Fitzwarren's 
 inquiry. 
 
 "And you," cried Master Fitzwarren in the ear of Dame 
 Grammont, '* have you searched ? " 
 
 "Aye, sir, that's true indeed," replied Dame Grammont; 
 " ' Search, and thou shalt find.' " 
 
 " The deuce take the woman ! " exclaimed Master Fitzwarren. 
 " Hast thou," he added, in a louder tone, '* experienced this ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, sir," returned Dame Grammont, in a low voice 
 — she always spoke low, as deaf people generally do, because she 
 was anxious to conceal her infirmity, " Yes, indeed, sir, that's 
 what I always say — ' Experience maketh a fool wise.' " 
 
 "Hast seen the carcanet? " vociferated Master Fitzwarren. 
 
 " Aye, in sooth, ' seeing's believing,' " replied Dame Gram- 
 mont. " But you needn't bawl so — I'm not deaf." 
 
 '' Was ever the like of this heard ? " shouted Master Fitzwar- 
 ren. "'T Avould try the patience of Job." 
 
 "True, your worship, 'patience is a great virtue,'" returned 
 Dame Grammont. 
 
 Master Fitzwarren, though irritated at her stupidity, perceived 
 that he would be unable to elicit any information from Dame 
 Grammont, whose dulness was proverbial, and he therefore con- 
 fined his inquiries to Dame Williams and Dick. Both of these 
 latter persons protested, in the most solemn manner, that they had 
 not seen the missing carcanet ; but the cook said, and Master 
 Fitzwarren surmised, that Dick knew more of it than he chose to 
 avow. Dick saw that he was suspected, but as he saw also that 
 the eyes of Mistress Alice held him innocent, and as, moreover, 
 he was conscious of his integrity, he heard the suspicion expressed 
 without betraying emotion. He did not, however, feel it the less. 
 He spoke not, not even to refute the calumny, for he was so hurt 
 that he could not speak, but he pondered deeply. He longed for 
 the advent of night, in order that he might retire to his garret, 
 and there, secure from interruption, relieve his oppressed heart by 
 an effusion of tears. 
 
 And night came at last. Dick visited neither Master Simon 
 nor the Jew, for though he believed that they would never doubt 
 his honesty, he felt ashamed to tell them how he was situated. 
 Miriam, too — how could he tell her? No; he thought 'twere 
 better to leave them all; better to lose their kind countenance, 
 their sweet counsel — better even to lose their good opinion, than to 
 stand before them a reputed thief. He resolved, as he disposed 
 himself for sleep, to rise with the first daAvn of day, and to quit, 
 for the quiet valley of Taunton Deans, the busy and heartless 
 metropolis. He fell asleep and dreamt of poverty and wretched-
 
 186 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 ness, of happiness and wealth ; and thought, as he looked at the 
 tattered o-arments in which fancy had robed him, and the paltry 
 portion which fate had assigned him, that it was a grievous sin to 
 be clad in rags, and a deadly crime to be poor. He only thought like 
 the rest of the world ; his creed is still that of the throned monarch 
 and the work-house pauper — ^the lie, the shallow lie, and vile and 
 contemptible prejudice of universal man. The lion's coat is shaggy, 
 and that of the tiger magnificent and smooth ; but which is the 
 nobler animal ? And is the tulip, which wears so flaunting a coat, 
 and which requires so much care and nursing from the gardener, 
 is it so dearly prized as the forget-me-not, which grows wild by 
 the roadside, and displays gold in its heart only ? 
 
 But poverty, certainly, is not a desirable acquaintance, for it 
 hath a cold hand, a black brow, and an iron heart ; and so thought 
 Dick when, on the next morning, he rose with the first light. It 
 was the morning of AU-Hallowmass, and all nature was rejoicing, 
 as, on a festival so solemn, the church commanded all good Catho- 
 lics to do. Dick, however, was in no mood to conform to this 
 injunction, but having hastily dressed himself, and taken up a 
 small bundle and stick Avhich he had provided overnight, stole 
 softly forth from his master's habitation. 
 
 Having attached his bundle, which contained some broken vic- 
 tuals, to the end of his stick, he rested the latter on his left 
 shoulder, and trudged along the road to Aldgate. Here, though 
 the gate was open, he was arrested by one of the warders, who, as 
 several apprentices had lately absconded from their masters, and 
 Dick's appearance and the earliness of the hour excited suspicion, 
 thought it politic to question him. 
 
 " Whither away, boy? " he asked. " Art tired of thy honest 
 craft, that thy god-fathers and god-mothers bound thee to ? " 
 
 Dick paused a moment. '* I am for the country," he said, at 
 length. '' I have been in service here, but am not boimden to 
 stay." 
 
 " No, no, thou 'rt not, boy," said another warder whom the noise 
 had draAvn forth from the lodge. " Get thee on thy way, and give 
 thee good morrow." 
 
 " Good morrow, kind sir," replied Dick, and passed on out of 
 the citv of London.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 1 87 
 
 CHAPTER XX. THE RETURN. 
 
 IN WHICH THE HERO RETURNS TO THE METROPOLIS. 
 
 "And whither shall I bend my steps now?" said Dick to 
 himself. 
 
 He was ascending Highgate hill, and being weary with his 
 walk, and anxious, before he proceeded further, to reflect seriously 
 on his situation, he sat down on a mile-stone, which, from that 
 day to this, is known as — 
 
 aiaaiJBttingtone'0 '©ton. 
 
 It stands by the way-side, as you go ixp to Highgate arch, near 
 to the elegant and commodious alms-houses which he afterwards 
 founded. The wayfarer is at once struck by the tasteful exterior 
 of the latter; and if he pause to survey them, and inquire their 
 purpose of a passing traveller, he will be surprised to learn that 
 they are Dick Whittington's Alms-houses. 
 
 There was a churchyard in his rear. He happened to turn 
 round, and, laying his bundle and stick on the ground, glanced 
 vacantly over the resting place of mortality. That vacant glance 
 was soon exchanged for one of intelligence. No one, indeed, can 
 enter the sanctihed precincts of human rottenness — rottenness 
 that, even in death, covers itself with sweet-smelling floAvers, and 
 seems, while bedded in the cold, damp clay, to demonstrate, by 
 the fertility of the surface, that humanity, though dead, is still 
 seconding nature — that though the handiwork of the Handiworker, 
 who had endued him with beautiful feelings and lofty senses, who 
 had given him power over all that dwelt on the earth and in the 
 air and in the waters, was laying senseless and lifeless there, yet 
 the flowers and the green turf grew over him, and seemed, in the 
 mute language of beauty, to say to the monuments which affec- 
 tion had reai'ed, and which time had crumbled, " Ruins ! ye 
 would perpetuate his might, while we, less proud, would I'cmem- 
 ber his innocence only ; and yet, weak memorials though we be, 
 God stands forth in our loveliness as man totters in your frailty ! " 
 No one can enter on such a scene, remembering that he must one
 
 188 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 day repose there, and render up his dead brahi, now the seat of 
 an immortal spirit, to regale the long, slippery, creeping, tortive 
 worm — no one can do this without thinking that life is like a 
 midnight dream, and that all man's inventions and pursuits and 
 vicissitudes, all his hopes and fears and pains — all his trials 
 and schemes and speculations, are like the morbid creations of a 
 distempered fancy. "And surely," thought Dick, " there is comfort 
 in this reflection ; for the Aveary dreamer, who is covered Avith 
 rags only, hath the same guardian as the haughty noble, whose 
 costly coverlet is so often oppressed by ambition ; and in our very 
 restlessness, which Avill not suffer us to remain long in one po- 
 sition, we may discovei' a type of the immortal life of which the 
 grave is the gaping threshold. 
 
 " But wdiat music is that ? " asked Dick, starting from his 
 reverie. 
 
 'T was old BoAv Bells. They were chiming merrily indeed, for 
 it was the high festival of All-Hallowtide, and on the morroAV, as 
 is still enjoined by the Churcli of Rome, mass would be celebrated 
 for all souls. Dick listened attentively to the chime, Avhich, 
 though he could scarcely credit his senses, seemed to say, — 
 
 " Turn again, turn again, Whittington ! 
 Three times Lord Mayor of London ! " 
 
 " Surely," he thought, " imagination is playing me a trick. 
 What an impossible thing is this ! Lord Mayor, too ! Why, no 
 such office is known ! Mayor, forsooth, might chance, but " 
 
 " Turn again, turn again, Whittington ! 
 Three times Lord Mayor of London ! " 
 
 What folly ! And yet it Avas not such great folly either, for Avho 
 coidd say what industry and perseverance might accomplish ? It 
 seemed so curious, too, that this delusion, if delusion it were, 
 should come over him at that moment, Avhen his thouo-hts were 
 occupied by other matters. Was it not, moreover, very strange, 
 Avhen there Avas no such dignity, that the chime should expresslv 
 say Loud Mayor, and— Avhich Avas still more mvsterious — that 
 the ])rediction should run in rhyme ? But, to ban'ish such an ab- 
 surdity at once, he Avould, he thought, just consider his situation; 
 and if it Avas possible that he, a suspected thief 
 
 " Why ! " he exclaimed, " I am about to justify suspicion ! I 
 am, in sooth, running aAvay from inquiry ! And* Avhat Avill Mis- 
 tress Alice, and Master Simon, and Miriam, say? Why, if thev 
 even say nothing, they must at least think me an ingrate, and, 
 belike, a thief. Where Avill I find me such friends as they?" 
 
 The tears rolled lieavily doAvn his cheeks, and throAvinghimself 
 on liis knees, and clasping his hands over the stone'that had 
 served him for a seat, he besought Providence to lead him
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 189 
 
 whithersoever it deemed best. As he rose from his knees, and 
 took up his bundle and stick, Bow Bells again addressed him : 
 
 " Turn a^ain, turn again, Whittington ! 
 Three times Lord Mayor of London I " 
 
 " And if I be three times Lord Mayor," said Dick, as he 
 turned again towards London, '' the prophecy of Bow Bells, that 
 made me soar so high, shall outlast London town." 
 
 Being anxious to reach his master's house before the inmates 
 rose, so that, on the descent of the household, his excursion might 
 not be suspected, he pushed forwards at a hearty pace, and soon 
 reached Aldgate. As he was hastening through the gate he en- 
 countered Master Simon Racket. 
 
 " Whither hast thou been so early, Dickon?" asked Master 
 Simon. 
 
 " I will tell thee anon, worthy sir," replied Dick. "It may 
 be enough to say, now, that 1 have repented me. Hast heard of 
 the loss that fair Mistress Alice hath sustained ? " 
 
 "Aye," answered Master Simon ; " and have heard, besides, 
 that suspicions have been fixed on thee. But what of this ? We 
 must all, as worthy Master Smith says, have our misadventures. 
 To speak sooth, though, Dick, I should like well to have this 
 mystery unravelled ; and, if you list, will accompany you home 
 for that end." 
 
 *' You are my good friend, fair sir," said Dick, grasping his 
 hand. 
 
 " Are you advised o' that?" asked Master Simon, returning 
 the pressure of his hand. " Well, then, we will onward." 
 
 Dick had not made so much haste but that the inmates were 
 all astir before he reached Master Fitzwarren's house. Master 
 Fitzwarren himself, as Avell as his fair daughter, were in the 
 kitchen ; and, on his entry, the former person asked Dick Avhither 
 he had been rambling. Dick looked significantly at Master Simon. 
 
 " He has been conferring with me, your worship," said Master 
 Simon. 
 
 "Then we must excuse him," returned the merchant; "in 
 especial as unjust suspicions have been fixed upon him, concern- 
 ing, as you are aware, this unlucky carcanet." 
 
 " You have found it, then ? " said Master Simon. 
 
 " Aye," replied Mistress Alice, Avhose eyes were red with re- 
 cent weeping. " I was certain Dick had it not. I took it from 
 the dresser myself, and placed it in my vest, where, when I dis- 
 arrayed last even, I found it." 
 
 *' Our Lady be thanked! " exclaimed Dick. 
 
 " A thankful man is worth a king's ransom," observed Dame 
 Grammont, who had overheard the last word of Dick's excla- 
 mation
 
 190 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 '' Well, this being disposed of," said Master Fitzwarren, " we 
 will to business." 
 
 And, preceded by Mistress Alice, and followed by Master 
 Simon, the worthy merchant quitted the kitchen, smiling, as he 
 passed him, in acknowledgment of Dick's obeisance. 
 
 Dick had not been long engaged at his avocations, at which, in 
 order to compensate for the time he had lost, he plied with un- 
 usual diligence, when, happening to turn towards the door, he 
 espied Mistress Alice, who beckoned him to follow her. He 
 accordingly watched his opportunity, and when the attention of 
 Dames Williams and Grammont was otherAvise engaged, stole 
 softly from the kitchen, and followed his young mistress up stairs. 
 
 "You are very cruel, Dickon," said Mistress Alice, as Dick 
 entered the chamber to which she had preceded him. 
 
 " Wherefore, fair mistress ? " asked Dick. 
 
 "To think of running away — without so much as saying fare- 
 well, too." 
 
 Dick coloured. " Are you advised of that?" he asked. 
 
 "Aye : Master Simon told me 't was so, he was sure; and said 
 it came of my carelessness." 
 
 '' He is a meddler, I promise you, mistress," said Dick. " I 
 will have talk with him. — But, no, he is a worthful friend, I war- 
 rant. He spoke in haste, fair mistress." 
 
 " I have none to take my part," sobbed Mistress Alice. " Nay, 
 now, I know thou would'st, Dick. Turn not ^hy head away. 1 
 wanted to ask thy grace." 
 
 "For why ?" asked Dick. 
 
 " For bringing such suspicion on thee." 
 
 " But you suspected me not ? " 
 
 " Our Lady forefend !" replied Mistress Alice. 
 
 " Then what reck I for suspicion ? " returned Dick. " I trow 
 I stood acquitted with you, mistress, and that is all I cared for. 
 Our Lady shield you ! " 
 
 And as he kissed the hand of his mistress, and turned from her 
 presence, it occurred to Dick that that hand might one day be 
 his own. 
 
 In the evening he repaired to the domicile of Master Simon 
 Racket. As he Avas ascending the stairs, on his way to Master 
 Simon's chamber, he thought that he heard some one retreating 
 down the passage. 
 
 " Who is there ? " he asked, in a low tone. 
 
 " Dickon," replied Master Simon, as he caught him by the 
 arm, " I know your voice. Hither, for I have somewhat to dis- 
 cuss with you." 
 
 Dick descended the stairs till he reached a sharp angle, where, 
 yielding to the grasp of Master Simon, he came to a halt. 
 
 " You remember," whispered the mercer, " the sanctified 
 bigot of Highgate, — Sir Ambrose Pollard ? "
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 191 
 
 " I have cause," replied Dick. 
 
 " He is in my chamber now," said Master Simon. " He is 
 rebuking my wife for loving me, and thi*eatening to consign her 
 to hell if she do not quit me straight." 
 " Wherefore does he this ? " 
 
 " Because," replied Master Simon, ^' Rudleigh was one of 
 his flock, and having heard from him that I was a heretic, he 
 fears my wife Avill soon cease to be a Roman." 
 
 " Are you surely advertised of this ?" asked Dick. 
 " Surely," rejoined Master Simon. " The mediciner is even 
 now in the chamber, secreted behind the baize curtain, and I have 
 myself been listening at the door." 
 
 " And there is none who can prove heresy on you, sir?" 
 " None, Dick," replied Master Simon, " and therefore, if 
 you be so minded, you can now requite this priest your reckoning 
 with him." 
 
 " How ? " asked Dick. 
 " Follow me," said Master Simon. 
 
 They again ascended the stairs, and, stealing thence down the 
 passage afore mentioned, proceeded on tip-toe to Master Simon's 
 chamber. The door was ajar, and, as there were lights within, 
 they could see and hear everything that transpired. Dick peeped 
 through. Dame Eleanor, he perceived, was on her knees ; and 
 beside her, sitting as comfortably as possible in an easy chair, 
 was Sir Ambrose Pollard of Highgate. 
 
 " I never will,'* said Dame Eleanor. " You may say what 
 you list, holy father, but my resolution shall never flinch." 
 
 " Perish, then, in thy heinous guilt," said the priest, fiercely. 
 
 " Oh, father ! father ! " sobbed Dame Eleanor, appalled by 
 
 the severity of the sentence, " is there no help for it? Must I 
 
 torture my heart thus ? — deceive, betray my dearest love and 
 
 husband, or descend to utter darkness ? " 
 
 " Where is wailing and gnashing of teeth," said the priest. 
 " Even so, my daughter. You must even root out this heretic 
 from your heart, and, by betraying his heresy, prove that you 
 have utterlv discarded him, or vour portion will be with the Evil 
 One." 
 
 " Yet swore I at the altar to abide by him," said Dame 
 Eleanor, — " aye, even for better for worse, in sickness or in 
 
 health " 
 
 " I absolve thee of that vow," said Sir Ambrose, sternly ; 
 ^' and I tell thee, if thou dost hesitate a m-oment, thy name is for 
 ever blotted out from the book of life. Even now, woman of 
 evil, the angel Gabriel is waiting thy answer ; and as it comes 
 from thy lips, approving thy allegiance to Mother Church or to 
 Satan, so will he prepare thy home in heaven or in hell." 
 
 " Then listen, grim priest," cried Dame Eleanor, starting to 
 her feet, and pressing her hands over her throbbing temples, " to
 
 192 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 a woman's answer ; and know — though hell's deepest pit be my 
 requital — my lips falter not. God knows, if I err, I err through 
 ignorance, and not in wilful sin; but if my husband were never 
 so bad, I would love him still ; — and if he were as black as Satan, 
 and as ruthless as thou, it is not my tongue that would tell his 
 faults." 
 
 ** By George of England ! " exclaimed Master Simon, bounc- 
 ing into the room — " by George of England, Nell, you're a loyal 
 lass ! For you. Sir Priest," — here Master Simon drew his rapier 
 — " you quit not this house till I have cited a jury of my neigh- 
 bours. Ah! you would pass me? By George of England — and 
 I swear not oil — 't would better fit you to count your beads ! " 
 
 " I will alarm the house," said the mediciner. 
 
 The mediciner Avent from room to room, calling the inmates 
 forth, and giving them to understand that Sir Ambrose Pollard 
 had been attempting to play the gallant Aviili Master Racket's 
 spouse. This libel on the Church drew together all the occupants 
 of the house, Avhich, as it Avas let out in apartments, contained 
 several families ; and when they reached the door of Master 
 Simon's apartment, and saw how the priest stood at bay, the 
 feminine part of the crowd vented their indignation in loud cries 
 of "Shame!" 
 
 " Suppose," suggested the mediciner, "we lay him under the 
 pump?" 
 
 The proposition was carried unanimously. Sir Ambrose, ac- 
 cordingly, was taken bodily up, and transported to the nearest 
 pump, Avhich happened to stand in the yard adjoining the house. 
 Here, Avhile Master Simon and the mediciner hekl him down, he 
 was pumped upon by Dick ; and the spectators, lending their 
 assistance when the struggles of Sir Ambrose rendered auxiliary 
 aid necessary, expressed their approbation of the performance by 
 peals of laughter. Tliey then tossed the reverend gentleman in 
 a blanket, and finally, with three deep groans, kicked him out 
 of the house.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. THE BILLET-DOUX. 
 
 OF A CERTAIN MISSIVE WHICH MASTER HENRY SENT TO THE LADY 
 
 EVALINE, SHEWING HOW THE SAID MISSIVE WAS ENTRUSTED 
 
 TO DICK WHITTINGTON, HOW HE DELIVERED IT TO THE 
 WRONG LADY, AND WHAT ENSUED THEREUPON. 
 
 About a week after the events narrated in the last chapter, and at 
 a little after the hour of sunset, Dick Whittington wended his way 
 from the abode of Master Fitzwarren ta that of his friend the 
 mediciner. He found Miriam alone ; but before he had conned 
 his lesson in oi'thography, in which branch of literature he was 
 making rapid progress, the mediciner presented himself. 
 
 "Will you do me an errand, my son?" asked the mediciner, 
 taking a small packet from under his gown, and breaking a seal 
 which secured the envelop. 
 
 " Certes, father," replied Dick ; " I were an ingrate else." 
 
 " Here is a packet," continued the Jew, " which I have received 
 from France. One of the letters runs thus: — 
 
 " ' To Master Salmon, chirurgeon, these : Herein you are adver- 
 tised of my well-being in France, and entrusted with sundries — 
 videlicet, one amulet and one missive, for the honourable and fair 
 lady whose name you know. I am much concerned for my error 
 in the matter you wot of, and cry you mercy for my perversity. 
 I trust to win glory in these wars, being held in good repute in our 
 array, and having Hubert Cromwell for my henchman. I pray 
 you speak me well to the sweet lady aforesaid, and bid her remem- 
 ber me in her prayers, even as I remember Tier in mine. From 
 your good fi-iend, the worshipful Master Henry Sinclair, cavalier, 
 even as it is writ by Thomas Holdforth, a worthless freer of good 
 Sancte Frauncis, Benedicite.' " 
 
 " And what would you have me do, father ?" asked Dick. 
 
 " Carry this letter and amulet to the young lady," replied the 
 Jew. " You will find her at Leaden Hall ; and mind, my son, you 
 are to know nought of Master Henry, except that the letter comes 
 from him." 
 
 " Even so," rejoined Dick ; and taking leave of Miriam and 
 her father, he set forth on his mission.
 
 194 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 November in England is a dreary month, though in countries 
 far south — south of the equator, it is the most agreeable month in 
 the year. In England, however, it hath not a charm. The days are 
 short and dirty, the nights are long and joyless, the atmosphere is 
 crammed with morbid vapours, and the genius of Suicide, with her 
 mother, Melancholy, rides the snorting wind. Thei*e is not a smile 
 in the sky, nor a flower on the earth ; and the meteors which 
 run their unhallowed courses over the midnight heavens seem 
 ominous of calamity and war. It was on such a night, dark and 
 lowering and dismal, that Dick proceeded from the house of the 
 mediciner to Leaden Hall. The pass-word procured him admis- 
 sion into the hall, and thence, by the order of the corpulent porter, 
 he was led to an inner chamber. 
 
 Dick had not been many minutes an inmate of the chamber, 
 which was the same that he had occupied on his last visit to Leaden 
 Hall, when the door was cautiously opened, and a young woman, 
 whom he at once recognised as Clarissa, the waiting maid of Lady 
 Evaline, glided into the room. 
 
 " Deary me !" exclaimed Mistress Clarissa, " so we have our 
 young page here again. In sooth, my gaffer, thy mistress sends a 
 sorry messenger." 
 
 " I have no mistress to speak of," returned Dick. " I bear a 
 missive for your lady, and it comes, not from my mistress, but from 
 Master Henry." 
 
 Mistress Clarissa turned deadly pale, and trembled violently. 
 She would have fallen, so excessive was her agitation, but that her 
 hand rested on the embrasure of a M'indow, on which, as the faint 
 came over her, she leaned back for support. It was some minutes, 
 during which Dick watched her intently, before she regained her 
 composure, but it was evident, even to the inexperienced eyes of 
 Dick, that she did not wish her emotion to be seen. 
 
 " Bear with me, good boy," she said, in a tender tone ; " I will 
 be better presently. I am subject to these faints, but they do not 
 last long." 
 
 She turned her head aside, and though, as the long curls that 
 escaped from her hood hung down by the side of her face, and 
 thus concealed it from observation, he could not see whether she 
 M'as weeping or no, Dick fancied that he heard two or three stifled 
 sobs, and a sigh, so deep and so sad that it seemed to have rent the 
 heart. Mistress Clarissa, however, soon recovered herself, and, 
 having assumed her original posture, desired Dick to deliver him- 
 self of his errand. 
 
 Now, notwithstanding his characteristic caution, Dick had on a 
 former occasion observed such a tone of confidence in the dialogue 
 between Lady Evaline and Mistress Clarissa, and had thereupon 
 formed so high an estimate of the trustworthiness of the latter, 
 that even had the Jew directed him to deliver his message to none 
 but tlio party most concerned, he would not have scrupled to trust
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 195 
 
 Mistress Clarissa. Indeed, as his intellectual powers were yet in 
 their infancy, the very emotion which Clarissa displayed, and 
 which, in all probability, would have awakened the suspicion of 
 an experienced observer, induced him to regard her with a confi- 
 dence that, when the matter in hand exercises a visible influence 
 over her passions, can hardly be reposed in woman. She looked 
 so lovely, too, with the tear swimming in her large eye — for the 
 rose at meridian, as even prudes will own, is nothing in comparison 
 to the flower that bears the dew of morning on its cheek ; — and 
 how, inexperienced as he was, could Dick distrust her ? 
 
 " I brought this missive," he said, handing her the letter, 
 "which, with this amulet, I was charged to deliver to Lady 
 Evaline." 
 
 " And it comes from Master Henry, does it, sweetheart ?" asked 
 the other. 
 
 " Ay, mistress," replied Dick ; " and I prithee weep not, for 
 trust me, if you fear mischance hath befallen him, you are much 
 mistaken. He is well, and safe." 
 
 " How know you that ?" asked Mistress Clarissa. " But it 
 matters not," she added, perceiving in Dick's countenance a fixed 
 determination not to reply. " It is sufficient that you do know it. 
 But wherefore did you think that I had any fears for him ? Where- 
 fore should I fear for him, excejDt as for one who is known to my 
 honoured lady, and who — has shewn me kindness?" 
 
 " Even so," replied Dick. 
 
 " Ay, even so," responded Mistress Clarissa. " Thou art a 
 good boy, I warrant thee. And where may Master Henry be?'' 
 she continued, throwing into her face as much indifference as she 
 could assume. 
 
 "In France, mistress." 
 
 "Ah! say you?" resumed Mistress Clarissa." " Gone to the 
 wars, eh? He will get him renown, I promise you." 
 
 "I think ay," replied Dick. "But I have discharged my 
 message, mistress ; and so I will bid you good den." 
 
 " Good den, sweetheart I" said Mistress Clarissa. " I will bear 
 thy errand faithfully to my mistress. This way, sweetheart :" and 
 Mistress Clarissa preceded Dick to the hall, and escorted him to 
 the outer porch. 
 
 Leaving Dick to wend his way to his master's residence, whither 
 he forthwith repaired, the chronicler must introduce the reader to 
 the chamber of Mistress Clarissa, who, directly she had seen Dick 
 clear of Leaden Hall, retired to collect her thoughts. 
 
 Women can never think so well as when they are in a decum- 
 bent posture ; and this curious fact, whether from instinct or edu- 
 cation, they are all aware of. It need not, therefore, be said, that 
 on entering her chamber for the purpose of holding a private con- 
 ference with herself. Mistress Clarissa first secured herself from 
 intrusion by locking the door, and then threw herself on her couch.
 
 196 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Her head rested on the white pillow, which by the side of her 
 jetty hair looked as lucid as snow, and the tears flowed from her 
 eyes so slowly and so heavily, and her bosom heaved so high and 
 so quick, that it was easy to see how the spirit M'ithin was writhing 
 in the icy clutch of ironhearted despair. 
 
 It is a fearful thing — that blight which comes over a young 
 heart's affections. Tears indeed may irrigate, and the sun of 
 memory may shine, and friendship, as it looks over the garden of 
 the heart, may plant a fresh flower there ; but if love, the tree of 
 life, be withered, no irrigation, no sunshine, no culture, can impart 
 vitality to the soil. It may, however, be some time before this 
 barrenness is visible ; for the fever of excitement, like the tem- 
 perature of the hothouse, often produces floral hope, though, like 
 forced fruit, it has not the substance or duration of that which is 
 the regular and spontaneous production of sterling nature. Thus 
 it was, that when she had relieved her overcharged spirit by an 
 eff'usion of tears, Mistress Clarissa recollected many particulars 
 relative to Master Henry, which it is not necessary to mention 
 here, but which she, poor thing, garnered up in her heart of hearts, 
 and, as a consequence, she became so excited by the review, that, 
 in the agitation of the moment, she did not feel the effects of that 
 withering blight which had shed its dark shadow and humid breath 
 over her youthful heart. 
 
 She had been brought up in a convent, in which she had held 
 some menial post, so that she was not unacquainted with letters; 
 and having resolved to search out Master Henry, and to follow 
 him whithersoever he went, she tore open the packet which Dick 
 had given her for her mistress, and perused its contents. 
 
 By this means she was informed of the local position of Master 
 Henry, who, she found, was attached to the garrison of Calais. 
 Having read the letter over at least twenty times, folding it up 
 after each perusal and placing it in her bosom, and then, as 
 though she had forgotten some part of it, taking it out again and 
 reperusing it, she pressed it fondly to her pale and trembling 
 lips. But, instead of kissing it, she drew it impatiently away; for 
 the thought occurred to her that the fond expressions it contained 
 were addressed to another — to her mistress; and without pausing 
 a single moment, without listening to one whisper of struggling 
 conscience, or even indulging the slightest degree of hesitation, 
 she tore it in a hundred shreds, and scattered them over the 
 floor. 
 
 Mistress Clarissa then rose, and having adjusted her dress, and 
 assumed as composed a manner as she could possibly attain, de- 
 scended to the chamber of Lady Evaline. She found that lady 
 sitting at her toilet, with her arms resting on the table, and her 
 head buried in her hands. 
 
 " Why weep you so, fair lady ?" asked Clarissa, who really 
 sympathiy.cd, as much as a rival could, with her more favoured.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON, 197 
 
 though dejected, mistress. " Shall a towering falcon like you be 
 affected by this sparrow-hawk?" 
 
 " Peace, woman !" said her mistress, angrily. " How darest 
 thy tongue impugn his nobility ? Sparrow-hawk, forsooth ! I 
 trow there be few, though royally born, but would stoop to less 
 noble prey than Henry Sinclair.'" 
 
 " Well-a-day, Lady Evaline I" returned Clarissa, mournfully. 
 " What am I to say to pleasure you? But yestei-night you were 
 calling him a traitorous lover — a deceiving bachelor — a false " 
 
 " Ay, go on," interrupted Lady Evaline. " Tell me all the 
 false names I applied to him. What matter though it be torture? 
 'Tis my just meed. Haply, even when I was gainsaying his love, 
 he was telling his noble heart that it was mine, and none other's. 
 Oh ! oh ! could I but know where he is ? Belike, in the grave." 
 
 " Suppose it were so, fair lady?" said Clarissa. " Nay, now, I 
 only said, suppose — " 
 
 " Thou dost well, Clarissa," cried Lady Evaline. " Thou 
 canst not be better employed than in torturing thy mistress. Nay, 
 my dame, I can loosen that secure-pin myself. Thy tongue and 
 hands will ever be meddling Avhere they have no business. There 
 — thou mayst retire now." 
 
 Somewhat offended at the angry tone which her mistress had 
 adopted, yet entertaining too high a respect for her to reply in a 
 similar strain, INIistress Clarissa executed her usual obeisance, and, 
 muttering a good den, retired to her own apartment. She threw 
 herself on the couch, without divesting herself of any of her 
 clothes, and in a few minutes was sound asleep. 
 
 The next morning Clarissa arose at an early hour. She snatched 
 up a small bundle, containing some articles of apparel, which she 
 had put up on the preceding night, and placing it under her arm, 
 and throwing her cloak round her, descended to the hall. Few 
 of the inmates were yet stirring; and except from the fat porter, 
 who facetiously observed that early rising was beneficial to the 
 complexion of young ladies, she met with no interruption. 
 
 Having emerged from the hall, which she quitted without a 
 sigh. Mistress Clarissa proceeded at a rapid pace towards Cheap- 
 side, and, on reaching that locality, entered a small and obscure 
 shop, which, notwithstanding the earliness of the hour, was already 
 open for the transaction of business. A short and squalid-looking 
 man, who was arranging his commodities in the most advan- 
 tageous manner on a low counter, instantly forsook his employ- 
 ment, and desired to know her pleasure. 
 
 " I want," said Clarissa, with a smile, " a dress for a mumming. 
 Let me have a page's dress; and, if you will allow me to retire to 
 a back room where I can array myself anew, I will requite you 
 well." 
 
 " Thou shalt be accommodated as thus," replied the trader.
 
 198 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " What say you to this jerkin of scarlet, embroidered with gold? 
 
 'Tis a gay one. I had it made for a page of Master Philpot, the 
 
 great merchant." 
 
 " It will do well," said Clarissa. 
 
 <' Here is its fellow," continued the trader. " The two suits 
 
 are complete. They were ordered nigh a month back ; but the 
 
 varlet — for want of money, I suppose — has never called for them." 
 " I will even take them, then," rejoined Clarissa. " Will you 
 
 shew me where I can array me ?" 
 
 " Ay, mistress," said the trader. And he called a woman, who 
 
 was sorting thread at the other end of the shop, and bade her retire 
 
 with Clarissa. 
 
 The woman led the way, and Clarissa followed, to a back room, 
 
 which overlooked the shop. Here she attired herself in her new 
 
 costume, and slipping a silver tester, or sixpence, into the hand of 
 
 her attendant, descended to the shop. 
 
 " They fit me well," she said, as she drew her page's cloak 
 
 around her, and glanced with a look of pride at her finely-carved 
 
 legs. " What are the charges?" 
 
 " With this sword," replied the trader, " which will complete 
 your equipment, I will take no less than ten pieces." 
 
 " Here they are," said Clarissa — and she counted out the ten 
 pieces ; and while the trader was testing their orthodoxy by 
 
 jingling them on the counter, she tied up her clothes in the bundle 
 aforementioned, and strode unquestioned from the shop. 
 
 The denizens of Cheap were by this time generally astir; and 
 Clarissa, therefore, had no diflRculty in finding a hairdresser's shop, 
 which, though she was aware that barbers are very inquisitive people, 
 she determined to enter. Had the proprietor been a young man, 
 and gifted with the curiosity which is the usual characteristic of his 
 profession, she would probably have encountered some risk ; but, 
 fortunately for her enterprise, he was an old man, Avhose eyesight 
 was none of the best. He did not, therefore, detect anything in 
 her appearance which could induce a suspicion of her sex ; and 
 the articles for which she asked — a dye for her face and a mous- 
 tache for her lip — were too commonly required by dashing young 
 pages to elicit the slightest question. Slie had arranged her hair 
 overnight, having cropped a great portion of it, and what re- 
 mained was parted in the manner %vhich then prevailed among 
 men ; so that, notwithstanding that when she applied the dye to 
 her face she removed her bonnet, the dim eyes of the barber, 
 even though they had been fixed upon her head, could not have 
 observed the smallest vestige of feminine fashion. Having had the 
 moustachios properly set, and imbursed the barber for his ser- 
 vices and goods, Clarissa again sallied into the street, assuming, 
 as she bent her steps towards old Queen's Hith, the air and swag- 
 ger of a page of consequence and good breeding.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 199 
 
 In the year 1377, when the present Jerusalem Coffee House 
 was not yet thought of, the captains of merchantmen of all sorts 
 and sizes, whether engaged in coast trading or in traffic with 
 places beyond the sea, were wont to frequent a respectable hotel, 
 designated by the euphonious appellation of the Pot and Kettle, 
 which was situate in the vicinity of Queen's Hith. Clarissa had 
 heard of this place, and, as she passed down Bow Lane, she saw the 
 spigot and bush over the hostel door ; and these appurtenances, 
 which intimated that accommodation might be had within, re- 
 minded her that she had not yet broken her fast. Reflecting that 
 this place was one where she was most likely to gain some in- 
 formation that she required, and that, however great her hurry, 
 she must tarry to breakfast somewhere, she introduced herself to 
 the public room forthwith, and ordered refreshments. 
 
 While she was engaged at her meal, of which indeed she ate 
 but little, a person clad like the skipper of a merchant vessel, 
 accompanied by a tall gaunt man dressed in the livery of a fal- 
 coner, pushed into the room, and, without taking any notice of 
 her, seated themselves at an adjoining table. As Clarissa had 
 little inclination to eat, and still less to indulge in meditation, she 
 was not inattentive to the discourse of the two strangers, who, by 
 way of breakfast, were amusing themselves with two respectable- 
 size bottles of sack and a small quantity of toast. 
 
 " And what time do you purpose starting, Sir Skipper?" asked 
 the falconer. " Let it be early, for I am impatient of my sojourn 
 here, and would prefer a French sword to an English gallows." 
 
 " I am off at noon," replied the skipper. " But art so near the 
 gallows that thou fear'st not a French sword ?" 
 
 " Near the gallows, forsooth !" returned the falconer. " Did 
 not I tell you I was falconer to the great Dame Alice Ferrers — the 
 fairest lady in this or any other realm ? And have not they 
 caged her up in the Tower yonder, for no other reason, forsooth, 
 than that she nursed the old king as the damsels of old nursed 
 King David?" 
 
 " Nay," cried the skipper, " I will contest that matter with you. 
 The damsels of old, you know " 
 
 Here Clarissa, who was apprehensive, from the skipper's preface, 
 that he was about to discuss a subject which, however entertaining 
 to philosophers, was not exactly adapted for a female's ear, inter- 
 rupted the discussion by a question which she put to the skipper 
 himself. 
 
 " Know you of any vessel bound for Calais, sir ?" she asked. 
 
 " Ay, Sir Page," replied the skipper ; " there is the Rose of 
 England, commanded by me, John Waters, sails at noon. Art for 
 the wars ?" 
 
 " I am for Calais, worthy sir," returned Clarissa. 
 
 " 'Twere a pity," rejoined the skipper, in a chafing tone, " that
 
 200 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 SO fair a youth, made, one would think, purposely for ladies' 
 bowers, should go and rough it in the wars. Prithee, be advised, 
 Sir Page, and tarry at Jericho awhile." 
 
 " A fico for your Jericho !" cried the gaunt falconer. " See you 
 not yon youth sports a moustache and a toledo ? I warrant you, 
 sir mariner, he would prefer him the din of war to the din of a 
 woman's tongue. I have known many with a soft voice, as this 
 fair page hath, who have acquitted themselves gallantly of their 
 devoir.' 
 
 *' I thank you for your good word, brave sir," said Clarissa. 
 *' I make no boast, but I hope I have an English heart." 
 
 " Ay, ay," rejoined the good-natured falconer , " to be sure 
 thou hast. Why, now, when I was your age, though I never wore 
 so gay a doublet, I was reckoned as spruce and soft as a gallant 
 might well be. Not to disparage you, who are bonny enough, 1 
 was as bonny a lad as ever trilled your demiquavers. Folks who 
 were very wise and very old, said I would never abide a naked 
 sword ; and my mother, poor simple body ! thought me the in- 
 nocentest creature alive ; but, by-and-by, what think you happed ?" 
 
 " What ?" asked the skipper and Clarissa together. 
 
 " W^hy," resumed the falconer, " they thought me so inno- 
 cent, poor things, they let me go as I liked among the queans, 
 and " 
 
 '< We may guess the sequel," said Clarissa, endeavouring to re- 
 press a blush. 
 
 " Hush, hush I" exclaimed the skipper. " What happed?" 
 
 " Nay, nay !'' resumed the falconer, " if you are for your mo- 
 desties, Sir Page — your circumstance of visage, and such like mat- 
 ters — I can be prim, T warrant you" — and the falconer assumed a 
 prim and supercilious air. " Why, Sir Page, I would not touch 
 thy notions of decorum, I promise you. If you say I would, Sir 
 Page, and you have mettle sufficient, I will give you satisfactions. 
 Nay, I will not wound thee. Stand up now, and I will give satis- 
 factions." 
 
 " Ah ! to it !" exclaimed the skipper, with a savage grin. 
 
 " Nay," said the falconer, whose temper was of that peculiar 
 nature which, though roused by the slightest friction, is so sub- 
 servient to the better feelings as to be calmed the moment its re- 
 sentment is expressed, " I am no match for this fair youth. I 
 was a fool to irritate thee," he continued, extending his brawny 
 hand ; " but there is Miles Wintley's hand, and so, if bad words 
 have passed, let no more be said." 
 
 " I ask grace, brave sir, and thank you," said Clarissa, putting 
 her hand in that of the falconer. " Truly, if this worthy skipper 
 will afford me a passage to France, I will be glad to have you for 
 a shipmate." 
 
 " Thou shalt have a passage," said the skipper, " for two pieces."
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 201 
 
 Clarissa paid the money straightway, and after the bargain had 
 been sealed with some more sack, which recalled many fanciful 
 but not innocent reminiscences of his youthful days to the tongue 
 of the gaunt falconer, the trio quitted the hostel for the ship. 
 This they soon reached, and two hours afterwards, to Clarissa's 
 great contentment, the Rose of England was impelled by a favour- 
 able breeze down the silver Thames.
 
 202 THK LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII, THE ADVENTURER. 
 
 IN WHICH MRS. CLARISSA EMBARKS FOR CALAIS, BUT, OWING TO CIR- 
 CUMSTANCES, WHICH ARE FULLY SET FORTH, IT BECOMES A 
 MATTER OF DOUBT WHETHER SHE WILL LIVE TO THE END OF 
 THE CHAPTER. 
 
 As the day following that on which Clarissa embarked for France 
 drew towards a close, and the sun, seemingly wearied with his 
 day's march, dropped slowly into the great deep, as though he 
 were about to refresh himself, after the consummation of his 
 toilsome duty, with that greatest of luxuries, a bath, the heavy 
 bark that rejoiced in the name of the Rose of England was run- 
 ning under reefed topsails round the North Foreland. The haze 
 which is so peculiar to the English channel, and which renders its 
 navigation more difficult and dangerous than the shoals and rocks 
 with which it abounds, became more dense as the sun disap- 
 peared, and — which is another peculiarity in the atmosphere of 
 that locality — the easterly wind also increased. There were, be- 
 sides the man at the helm, three men on the deck, and these and 
 the skipper, who was standing aft with Clarissa and the falconer, 
 constituted the crew. They had hitherto, from fear of the French 
 privateers, hugged the coast of England, but as night approached, 
 and the fog and wind increased, the skipper judged it prudent to 
 stretch out to mid-channel. 
 
 While, however, the crew were preparing to wear ship, a sudden 
 alteration in the colour of the water, which at once assumed a 
 deep yellow shade, alarmed the watchful skipper, who saw that 
 the galliot was floating over a sand-bank of considerable extent. 
 
 " Put your helm port-hard," he shouted to the helmsman. 
 
 " Port-hard it is," cried the other; and the next moment the 
 head of the galliot was turned in the opposite direction. 
 
 Hardly, however, had she been thus turned, when a heavy sea 
 struck the stern, and so sudden and violent was the shock, that 
 for some moments after, the skipper and crew thought that she 
 had struck the bank. Every one, except the helmsman, was 
 thrown off his feet, and Clarissa >vas precipitated on to the breast
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 203 
 
 of the skipper. Till this moment she had not been visited by any 
 of those qualms which are the prelude to sea-sickness, and which, 
 however great the fortitude of the sufferer, so prostrate the mind 
 as to render it incapable of the least exertion or reflection. Now, 
 however, she felt that swimming in the head, that giddiness of the 
 eyes, that pressure on the breast, those hundred indescribable sen- 
 sations, which make up the sickness of the sea. She was thrown, 
 as has been observed, on to the breast of the skipper, who, being 
 unprepared for such a contingency, and already rendered unstable 
 by the abrupt movement of the galliot, fell beneath her weight. 
 
 " This comes," said the brute, << of leaving your dam's apron- 
 string. Beshrew your lazy limbs, sir, can't you stand aground ?" 
 But Clarissa was unable to speak. Just as he was about to 
 throw her from him, and for that purpose drew himself back, a 
 button of her doublet caught in his jerkin, which, as he moved 
 back, tore open her vest, and the astonished eyes of the skipper 
 were informed of her sex. 
 
 " Now, Sir Skipper, speak not harshly," said the falconer, moving 
 towards them. " Let me carry him below." 
 
 " No, I thank you,'' replied the skipper, taking up Clarissa in 
 his arms. " I will take him down myself, I thank you. Our 
 Lady knows, Sir Falconer, I meant not to speak harsh to the lad ; 
 but my temper is rough, and easily chafed." 
 
 The skipper, as he thus delivered himself, descended the com- 
 panion, and entered the cabin below. Here, fitted to the sides, 
 were two berths, in one of which he extended Clarissa. As her 
 eyes were closed — for she had closed them in the hope that such 
 a measure would mitigate their giddiness — and her cheeks were 
 devoid of blood, he thought that she was insensible, and being in 
 nature a thorough brute, and accustomed to give a free rein to 
 his evil passions, he pressed his unhallowed lips on her fair, round 
 cheek. At this moment the galliot gave a lurch, and, cursing the 
 chance which commanded his presence on deck, the skipper re- 
 treated from the cabin. 
 
 Though roused somewhat from her apathy by the conduct of 
 the skipper, who, she perceived, had penetrated her disguise, Cla- 
 rissa was yet unable to summon her scattered senses to her rescue. 
 Had she, indeed, been in the full enjoyment of health, and tho- 
 roughly possessed of her intellectual powers, the difficulties of her 
 situation would have surpassed her capacity ; but now, when she 
 was incapable of action, either of body or of mind, the prospect 
 before her was intolerably dreadful. She was in the power of a 
 man who, as she gleaned from his aspect and manner, was desti- 
 tute of all moral feeling or control, and none, save the gaunt 
 falconer, to whom she could look for assistance. Of the falconer, 
 too, she had her doubts ; for if there were any verity in his own 
 evidence, which he had given voluntarily, he was a dangerous per- 
 son when ladies were concerned. But the crew — those men who
 
 204 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 were as rough and ruthless as the tempests by which they were 
 so frequently tossed — she shuddered to think of them. And then 
 she felt that lassitude, that callous indifference, that lax languor 
 of the mind and horrible relaxation of feeling, which, in nine cases 
 out of ten, form the pathology of sea-sickness — she felt these 
 creeping like chill death over her swooning frame. As is not un- 
 usual under such circumstances, or even under more trying ones, 
 she insensibly fell into a gentle doze, which gradually ripened into 
 sleep. 
 
 In the meantime the hands and hearts of the party on deck were 
 employed by other matters. The skipper, when the lurch which 
 had drawn him from Clarissa called him to the deck, was solicited 
 by the falconer to run into some English port; but he persisted, 
 as he knew of no roadstead nearer than Dover, in running for 
 Calais. As they were in mid-channel, he said there was no im- 
 mediate danger, but he would, nevertheless, remain on deck, and 
 just to pass the time away, and for no other purpose, he >vould 
 pledge the falconer in a cup of canary. 
 
 Having set a good look-out forward, and hoisted a lantern aloft 
 to warn any ships that might approach of their whereabouts, the 
 skipper and the falconer sat down on the deck, and commenced 
 their potations. The artful skipper, however, did not drain his 
 cup with the same ardour as the falconer, M'ho, though somewhat 
 surprised at the hospitality of his host, did not suspect him of any 
 evil motive, but tippled off his canary with an industry which was 
 truly indefatigable. Indeed, having an invincible passion for that 
 liquor, he held canary to be the best medium by which friends 
 could correspond with each other, and therefore, if he had lived 
 in the present day, would never have patronized that new-fangled 
 and cold-hearted morality Avhich fills the welcome-cup with water, 
 and toasts friends in tea. At length, after repeated efforts to con- 
 vince himself that the skipper had not two heads, and that it was 
 the ship, and not himself, that was indulging in locomotion, he 
 sank back on the deck, murmuring his disapprobation of some- 
 thing or other which he styled the " what you call it." This was 
 the very end which the skijjper had laboured to effect. He there- 
 fore left the falconer, as soon as he was asleep, to dream of the 
 joys of women and wine, on which entertaining themes, during 
 the progress of their carousal, he had been both facetious and 
 eloquent; and having given directions to his men to keep a good 
 look-out, and to keep the ship's head S. S. E,, the skipper de- 
 scended the companion ladder. 
 
 Clarissa, as has been stated, had fallen asleep, and though some 
 wiseacres recommend a beef-steak, which acts as an emetic, and 
 some a glass of brandy, which inci'eases the head-ache, sleep is 
 the only and certain antidote to sea-sickness. She was awakened, 
 hoMcver, by a rather rough caress, which, though possibly meant 
 to be taken in good part, was a familiarity which she had no in-
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 205 
 
 clination to brook. Nevertheless, knowing that undisguised re- 
 sistance would be of no avail, she determined to oppose the skipper 
 by policy rather than by action. She accordingly drew back from 
 his hold, and then sat as erect as she could, holding on, as seamen 
 say, by the stanchions of her berth. 
 
 " What seek you ?" she asked, in a faltering tone. 
 
 " Nay, now," replied the skipper, in a low voice, '« pretend not 
 ignorance. I know your secret; and it will be your fault, mis- 
 tress, if it be revealed to my crew." 
 
 " Wherefore do you call me mistress ?" 
 
 " Why, for that matter,'' returned the skipper, " I will call you 
 dame, if you list, or, if you like it better, gammer. But, sooth to 
 speak, I should hardly reckon you a matron yet." 
 
 "Are you a man?" asked Clarissa. " If you pretend to the 
 name of one," she added, struggling to free herself from his hold, 
 " you w ill quit me now." 
 
 " That would be a droll way of approving my manhood," replied 
 the skipper. " So no more of your preaching, an' it please you, 
 mistress." 
 
 " Desist, villain !" cried Clai'issa, losing the control which she 
 had hitherto maintained over her temper. " Desist, or I will alarm 
 the falconer and crew." 
 
 " For the falconer," said the skipper, "he is roaring drunk, my 
 leman ; and the crew will hear enough of your alarums by-and- 
 by." 
 
 " Hold !" exclaimed Clarissa, thrusting him back with a degree 
 of strength which surprised herself— " Hold, ruffian! Hear me 
 now ! If you retire forthwith, and keep my secret from your crew, 
 I will make it worth your while," 
 
 " How ?" demanded the skipper. 
 
 " See here !" continued Clarissa, drawing a purse from within 
 her doublet — " gold ! An orphan's portion — all she has in the 
 world but her honour. 
 
 " Well, well," said the other, " if you prefer the honour to the 
 gold — the gilt, as one may say, to the gingerbread — I will not 
 wrong the orphan, but even be content with your money." 
 
 " Ay," returned Clarissa, " but you must swear me first, Sir 
 Skipper — swear that you will keep your conditions, even as I swear 
 to complain not of your usage." 
 
 " I swear " 
 
 " By the three kings of Cologne," prompted Clarissa. 
 
 " I swear me by the three kings of Cologne," said the skipper, 
 crossing himself, " to offer you no further molestation." 
 
 " Enough !" cried Clarissa, handing him the purse; 
 
 The skipper laughed, and, retiring from the cabin, ascended to 
 the deck. 
 
 Once more left to herself, with the assurance that the falconer, 
 if need were, was incapable of affording her assistance, Clarissa
 
 206 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 again extended herself in her berth, though, as she still enter- 
 tained doubts of the skipper's good faith, she had no intention of 
 giving way to sleep. Being, however, exhausted both in body 
 and mind, and oppressed with a drowsiness for which she could 
 not account, she gradually sank into a doze. She had been 
 dozing, as she afterwards thought, about two hours, when she be- 
 came sensible of a great uproar overhead. The galliot, too, was 
 pitching so heavily, and the wind and the masts and the mariners, 
 each seeming to strive for the ascendant, howled and creaked and 
 clamoured so vehemently, that though the break of the raging sea 
 was dreadful to hear, particularly when a few inches of plank 
 formed the only bulwark which could be reared against it — not- 
 withstanding this, which was sufficient to appal the timid heart of 
 a Avoman, Clarissa thought that it was nothing in comparison to 
 that heavy tossing of the ship, and that hoarse conflict between 
 humanity and the elements, which added so many terrors to a 
 terrific death. Nevertheless, being determined to know the worst, 
 she rose from her creaking berth, and, having briefly commended 
 herself to the protection of Providence, ascended to the deck. 
 
 How dark it was, except where the summit of a high wave, im- 
 mediately before and behind the galliot, displayed a streak of boil- 
 ing white ! The sails were all furled : not a rag fluttered in the 
 wind, and yet the stout masts, as the galliot rolled heavily to the 
 wave, seemed ready to go by the board. There were two men, 
 who held on by belaying-pins, stationed on either bow, for the 
 purpose of keeping a good look-out ; and at the helm there were 
 two others, striving, but in vain, to keep the galliot to her course. 
 Not one of those men, in that awful turmoil, betrayed the least 
 sign of fear — not one of them moved a muscle, or spoke an un- 
 necessai-y word. The falconer, whom the scene had sobered, was 
 brave, but that very quality in those around him, who were used 
 to combat with the elements, and who, on the present occasion, 
 seemed impervious to emotion — the very bravery of those men, 
 strange and even paradoxical as it may appear, made his heart 
 quake. He turned away from the skipper, at whose side he had 
 been standing, and thus confronted Clarissa, who was ascending 
 the companion. 
 
 "Give us your hand. Sir Page," he said, extending his left hand, 
 and grasping hold of the bulwark with his right. " There," he 
 continued, as he assisted Clarissa to his side, " you'll be better on 
 deck ; and for your comfort, my master, I would advertise you 
 that we are in no manner of danger. It was predicted of me, by 
 one Doctor Catchpenny, a cunning soothsayer, that no power on 
 earth could prevent my dying on the gallows ; and though many 
 would be much disconcerted at this prospect, yet, as it assures me 
 against the evil of drowning, I cannot but regard it as pleasant and 
 comfortable." 
 
 Clarissa made no reply ; and they stood thus, without inter-
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 207 
 
 changing a word, for nearly half-an-hour, when, as a heavy sea 
 dashed over her stern, the galliot gave a sudden pitch : — she had 
 struck on a sand bank. 
 
 " It's all over now," said the skipper, with an air of savage in- 
 difference. 
 
 " Ora pro nobis," began the falconer, who, till this moment, 
 had been solacing himself with ideal representations of gibbets, 
 and murmuring blessings on the head of Doctor Catchpenny, the 
 learned soothsayer — " Ora pro ?iobis." 
 
 " Plenty o' time for prayers, my master," said the skipper. 
 " Hoy, boys !" he continued, addressing the crew — " let us give 
 death a wet welcome. Liquor, boys — bring up some liquor." 
 
 " How long think you to hold together?" asked the falconer, 
 somewhat revived by the skipper's request for good cheer. 
 
 <* Half-an-hour," replied the skipper, " and in that time we 
 have much to employ us. Suppose, as women ought to be served 
 first, we begin with you, gammer." 
 
 " What mean you to do with the boy ?" asked the astonished 
 falconer, as the skipper seized Clarissa's arm. 
 
 '' Boy ! said you ?" returned the skipper. " I see, after all, you 
 know not a petticoat like I do. 'Tis a girl." 
 
 The falconer gave utterance to a sententious whistle. 
 " For the sake of God !" exclaimed Clarissa, catching hold of 
 his arm — " that God who will soon judge you, protect me, sir !" 
 
 The falconer clutched her hand. The next moment, before 
 Clarissa could interpose, the skipper lay bleeding on the deck. 
 
 " Go down and pray," said the falconer, handing her to the 
 companion. 
 
 There was a clashing of swords, a clamour of voices, a groan, a 
 fall ; and Clarissa, who had hastened to fulfil the falconer's advice, 
 sprang from her knees. Her foot kicked against something, and 
 by one of those involuntary impulses which cannot be accounted 
 for, and which, for that reason alone, may be considered the in- 
 spiration of the guardian intelligences, she stooped to see what it 
 was. It was a weapon — a caliver, or ancient musket — a weapon 
 that had recently been invented. She sprang to the companion, 
 darted like light up the ladder, and, without knowing whether it 
 was loaded or no, levelled her piece. The falconer, whose back 
 was towards her, was fighting two men ; and two others, who had 
 only tarried to drain a large flagon of wine, were rushing for- 
 wards. Clarissa's nerves were strung as firm as wire : she raised 
 her caliver, inclined her head gently forward, and fired. 
 
 " Killed him, by George !" said the falconer, as he struck his 
 antagonist down, and turned round to Clai'issa. 
 
 Clarissa had just j^laced her feet on the deck, and the falconer, 
 propping himself up with his sword-hand, was stretching out his 
 other hand to support her, when a high Avave, which dashed furi- 
 ously over the stern, separated them. Clarissa felt herself impelled
 
 208 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 forward, but by a desperate effort, for which, as she reached the 
 galliot's head, she summoned all her strength, she contrived to throw 
 her arms round the bowsprit. Scarcely had she gained this posi- 
 tion, whence she expected to be swept by the next wave, when the 
 vessel rolled over on her beam-ends, and the next moment, as a 
 sea rushed with resistless force over the stern, the masts flew, the 
 timbers started, the bulwarks were swept away, and the Rose of 
 England was a wreck. 
 
 Clarissa, with admirable presence of mind, still clung to the bow- 
 sprit, which the force of the wave had torn away from the galliot, 
 and though she felt herself drawn down in the vortex which the 
 submersion of the main wreck occasioned, and was almost suffo- 
 cated by attempting to respire in the water, she strengthened 
 rather than relaxed her hold. As she was again rising to the sur- 
 face, after being under water several moments, she felt something 
 grasp her foot, and was straightway drawn down again. She 
 kicked out both her feet with all her force, and struck them 
 against the body that prevented her ascension, and, having thus 
 thrown off the incumbrance, rose like a cork to the surface. 
 
 How pitchy dark was everything around, except, here and there, 
 that ghastly foam which the sea spat up I Rain, too, was descending 
 in torrents, and spattering and clattering on the boiling sea, whose 
 roar, so dreadfully grand, held hoarse communion with the howling 
 wind. Clarissa's heart beat so wildly that she thought that there 
 was but one nerve from her brain to her foot, for she felt the pul- 
 sation vibrate through her entire frame. And yet, under all this 
 affliction — though her veins were swollen almost to bursting ; 
 though her young heart seemed to oscillate in her breast ; though 
 her nostrils were distended by her hard respiration ; though, as she 
 endeavoured to peer through the dense darkness before her, her 
 eyes almost started from their sockets ; yet, despite of all these 
 evils — even when she was most desirous to banish worldly thoughts, 
 and, for one brief moment, to supplicate that great One who hath 
 truly and kindly declared himself to be merciful — even then, in 
 the very jaws of gaping destruction, a tender recollection of 
 Master Henry would fascinate her hot brain. Poor thing I that 
 tempestuous sea which, though devoid of pity, still bore up the 
 bark of her hope, was not so dark, or so ruthless, or so stormy, as 
 her inexorable destiny. 
 
 Her energies, after she had been buffeting with the waves for 
 nearly an hour, were becoming exhausted, and she was beginning 
 to think that drowning might not be so hard a death as people 
 reported, and that, at any rate, it might be preferable to such a 
 joyless life as hers was like to be, when, giving way to the obses- 
 sion, she suffered her feet to sink to their utmost, and her hold of 
 the buoyant spar to relax. To her surprise, however, her feet 
 touched a bottom ; and, though the darkness was so compact that 
 she could not see through it, she was encouraged to infer, from
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 209 
 
 the shallowness of the water, that she was in the immediate vici- 
 nity of land. Cheered up by this fortuitous discovery, which was 
 the more welcome as it was unexpected, she pushed her faithful 
 float steadily through the water, and, to her great joy, found this 
 latter become more shallow at every step. She now heard the 
 dash of the surge on the beach, but still, though she knew that it 
 was close at hand, she could not discern the shore. Suddenly, as 
 she paused a moment to recover her breath, a wave caught her 
 unprepared, and swept her impetuously onward. Her heart seemed 
 to spring from its seat: — she drew one breath on the summit of 
 the headlong wave, and the next, which carried up her thanks to 
 the throne of God, she drew on the beach. 
 
 She did not lay still one solitary second. She scrambled to her 
 feet, and, staggering forwards a few yards, fell down as the surge 
 of the next wave washed her feet. She soon recovered breath and 
 energy sufficient to scramble further from the water, and then, 
 stretching herself beneath a group of stunted trees, gave way to 
 the influence of sleep. 
 
 It was very cold, and her haven aff'orded her but little shelter 
 from the elements, but Clarissa was so weak and exhausted that, 
 even had it been possible to find any more hospitable nook in the 
 vicinity, she would not have given herself the trouble to seek it. 
 Moreover, notwithstanding the natural susceptibility of her consti- 
 tution, she had undergone so much excitement and fatigue, and 
 her eyes were so weary with straining and watching, that she was 
 in a manner impervious to the cold, and, now that she had escaped 
 a watery grave, indiff'erent to danger. She laid down, therefore, 
 under cover of the trees, and hoping, yet scarcely believing, that 
 she might ever wake on earth, she fell asleep. 
 
 She had been sleeping about two hours, and dreaming that she 
 was again an inmate of the old convent in which she had been 
 reared, and that, though otherwise clad in the travesty of a page, 
 she wore over her head a long black veil, which, with a ring on 
 the second finger of her hand, marked her as the bride of Heaven, 
 and she had been dreaming that this atrocious blasphemy, which 
 the voice of Heaven itself has branded as a lie, was chorused by a 
 choir of priests, when she was awakened by the sound of voices. 
 She listened attentively ; but though the speakers conversed in 
 French, with which language she was not unacquainted, she 
 neither spake nor moved. Indeed, if she had been never so much 
 disposed, she was utterly unable to move ; for her limbs were as 
 rigid as cold could make them, and, though she was not at the 
 moment aware of it, her voice was so hoarse that it was not 
 possible for a foreigner to comprehend her. 
 
 " I will swear you he is English, dame," said one of the strangers, 
 who had the appearance of a fisherman, while the other, who was 
 a buxom, woman of some five-and-twenty years, appeared to be his 
 
 p
 
 210 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 spouse. " I can tell them, dame, by the bravery of their array. 
 Mark you not this youth's finery ? Why, he hath as much gold 
 on his jerkin as would serve the Constable of France." 
 
 <' Are the English so rich ?" asked the dame. " Wherefore, 
 then, did they spoil our poor cottage? We have little to spare, I 
 trow." 
 
 " Wherefore," asked the fisherman, " do I let this fellow lay 
 here ? I trow it were an easy matter to throw him in the se.a." 
 
 Here Clarissa attempted to rise, but finding herself unable, she 
 endeavoured to awaken the fisherman's better feelings by suppli- 
 cation. But as she was very hoarse, and as no language, perhaps, 
 requires such nicety of pronunciation as the Frewch, the fisherman 
 was unable to elicit her meaning. 
 
 " Poor fellow I" ejaculated the dame. " He is a fair-faced youth, 
 I trow. 'Twere a pity he should be drowned, orj what is worse, 
 left here to die. Suppose we give him shelter awhile ; and in a 
 day or two, when he recovers, you can give him up as a prisoner." 
 " So be it, then," rejoined her husband, who, notwithstanding 
 that he had threatened to throw Clarissa into the sea, had not so 
 obdurate a heart as he gave himself credit for. 
 
 He stooped down and lifted her up in his arms, and, preceded 
 by his wife, bent his steps towards a small hut, which was situate at 
 a little distance from the beach. As they ascended from the beach, 
 and Clarissa for the first time surveyed the surrounding country, 
 she perceived a fortified town at about three miles distance, and 
 this, as the marshy country around answered the description of the 
 Pas de Calais, she correctly divined to be Calais. 
 
 On reaching the hut, which contained only two rooms, she ex- 
 pressed a wish to lay down, and Mas accordingly extended on a 
 snug though humble couch by the fisherman. Being left to her- 
 self, and having first, by a careful survey, assured herself that she 
 was not watched, she threw off her travesty, and slipped into bed. 
 It was fortunate, perhaps, that she lost no time in effecting this 
 arrangement, for she had scarcely drawn the bed-clothes over her, 
 when her hostess entered the room, bearing in her hand a cup of 
 mulled wine, which she advised her to drink. Merely to rid her- 
 self of the attendance of the good-natured Frenchwoman, and not 
 with any expectation that it would produce beneficial results, 
 Clarissa drank the proffered draught, and, on the egression of her 
 hostess, composed herself for sleep. 
 
 She slept long, for when she awoke it was quite dark. She did 
 not, however, feel much re freshed, -for she was covered with a pro- 
 fuse perspiration, and she felt that her ultimate recoverj' — perhaps 
 her life, depended on its continuance. She therefore drew the 
 clothes more closely round her, and endeavoured, but in vain, to 
 resume her slumbers. First she thought of Master Henry, and 
 then of the dangers which still surrounded herself, and as this
 
 
 wife] fifc 
 
 .?'!'' ^^i^rV"^^- 
 
 ly/<^4-^^^UK (/c^iH:^i^t€<^ /^y 'y//Le- ^'y^^i(:ny:/ly t.y^/i^:l. 
 
 jTa^f^ ^'/o
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 211 
 
 latter subject forced itself on her consideration, and she recollected 
 the fisherman's intention to give her up to the French authorities, 
 her heart sank within her. 
 
 She moved her lips in prayer, and extending her hands to sup- 
 plicate Heaven (as is still the custom in countries where the Romish 
 creed prevails), her right hand upset something by the bed-side. She 
 groped in search of the article which she had thus overturned, and 
 found that it was an eai-then jug, containing a cool liquor, which, 
 with some bread and fish, stood on a chair at her side. Without 
 being hungry, or having the slightest desire to eat, Clarissa felt 
 faint and restless, and beginning with a small piece, which served 
 to distend her stomach, she gradually disposed of the greater part 
 of the bread and fish. She then sank back on her pillow, and as 
 she lay ruminating on her prospects, and her perspiration by de- 
 grees decreased, it suddenly occurred to her that she might yet be 
 able to defeat the purposes of her host. 
 
 No sooner did the thought strike her than she hastened to the 
 experiment. She rose cautiously from her bed, from which she 
 took a blanket to wrap round her body, and proceeded to her 
 chamber-door. She raised the latch without making any noise ; 
 but her very caution in opening the door, which creaked the louder 
 from being opened slowly, nearly ruined her project. 
 
 " Quest ce que c'est f cried a rough voice, which she knew to 
 be that of the fisherman. 
 
 Clarissa did not reply, but closing the door quickly, in the ex- 
 pectation that she was discovered, found, to her great surprise, 
 that the celerity of its motion had prevented the door from 
 creaking. 
 
 " Ce n'est que les rats," muttered the fisherman, 
 
 Clarissa, for a quarter of an hour, stood on the tiji-toe of anxiety, 
 and that quarter of an hour, which she computed by the number 
 of her respirations, was as tedious as a live-long day. At its ex- 
 piration, however, she determined to make another effort, and ac- 
 cordingly drew open the door. 
 
 The faint embers of a fire gleamed on the hearth, round which, 
 she perceived, her apparel was hung to dry, and a gentle light, if 
 that which serves only to shew darkness can be called light, was 
 diffused through the room. The fisherman and his spouse, sym- 
 pathizing with each other even in sleep, were snoring in concert, 
 and never did more dulcet harmony reach the ears of Clarissa. 
 She hastily donned her clothes, which, by the good management 
 of her hostess, were thoroughly dry, and taking her buskins in her 
 hand, and wrapping her blanket round her body, she stole softly 
 to the door. 
 
 She was full ten minutes, so cautiously did she proceed, before 
 she drew back the crazy bolt which secured the door at the top. 
 She then lifted the latch, and endeavoured to pull the door in,
 
 212 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 but being bolted at the bottom, which she had not noticed, it re- 
 sisted her efforts. 
 
 " Diable / ' cried the fisherman, whom the noise had awakened, 
 and who at once surmised what had occasioned it, " le gargon 
 Anglais seii va !" 
 
 Clarissa drew back the bolt, pulled in the door, and darted out. 
 The Frenchman was close at her heels, but not being prepared for 
 the chace, and being, besides, a few yards in the rear, she had the 
 advantage. 
 
 " L'arretez /" cried the enraged Frenchman, who, seeing no 
 chance of overtaking her, had caught up a caliver, and levelled it 
 at her — " L'arretez, avant queje tire f" 
 
 Clarissa, however, was determined not to surrender, and though 
 there were but a few yards between her and her pursuer, and in- 
 stant death seemed inevitable, she continued running. She saw a 
 flash of light, heard a report, and a ball, which left a tingling 
 noise in her ear, Avhizzed past the side of her head. She gave vent 
 to an hysterical burst of laughter, and, springing over the marshy 
 soil, was soon beyond hearing of the Frenchman's execrations. 
 
 One's heart must be depressed indeed, and one's body very weak, 
 when incapable of making a last effort for liberty, and consequently, 
 though her limbs were as stiff" as they could well be, and her joints 
 and muscles proportionably sore, Clarissa staggered on towards 
 Calais at a pace that surprised herself. Her brain Mas very giddy, 
 and so was her heart, and faint withal ; and she could have laid 
 down on that cold ground, which was so miry and damp, and 
 sobbed herself to sleep. Nevertheless, howsoever low the mental 
 and corporal energies, there is sometimes infused into the mind a 
 moral electricity, which, particularly in moments of extreme 
 misery, imparts to the spirits at intervals a momentary strength, 
 and, buoyed up by this influence, Clarissa journeyed on, propos- 
 ing, when she had progressed a few yards further, to lay down. 
 When, however, she had traversed the few yards, she thought that 
 she might as well proceed a short distance further, and thus, still 
 making good her way, she continued thinking that she would halt 
 a while, or that, as her strength endured, she would go on for a 
 moment or two more, till, worn out with fatigue, she reached the 
 lines of Calais. 
 
 " Who goes there ?" cried the watchful sentinel. 
 
 Clarissa did not answer, but as the sentinel grasped her arm, 
 she tottered back on his breast, and fainted. 
 
 The sentinel, moved as much by surprise as compassion, did 
 not disturb her, and in a few moments she recovered. She told 
 him, in answer to his inquiries, that she had been shipwrecked and 
 taken ])risoner, and that, after contriving to elude the vigilance of 
 her gaoler, she had journeyed thither in the hope of obtaining 
 service. 
 
 I
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 213 
 
 " Poor lad I" exclaimed the soldier. " Thou hast had to en- 
 counter dangers, I warrant. — But cheer up I I will have thee be- 
 fore the captain of the guard, and when thou hast answered 
 soothly to his questions, thou'lt have provision assigned thee." 
 
 Leaning on the sentinel's arm, and walking forward as quickly 
 as she could, Clarissa was introduced to the ward room, whence, 
 at the instigation of the sentinel, she was led by a sergeant to the 
 apartment of the captain. 
 
 Scarcely had she looked on that officer, in whom she recognised 
 the one being that she loved, when an involuntary scream burst 
 from her ; but instantly recovering herself, and recollecting the 
 necessity of maintaining her disguise, she endeavoured to stifle the 
 suspicion which this display was calculated to induce. 
 
 " For pity's sake, brave sir," she cried, "have me not harmed ! 
 I am true English, I promise you, and no spy. I was shipwrecked, 
 sir, and made prisoner, and by the help of Providence have 
 escaped. Have me not harmed, sire — oh ! have me not harmed !'' 
 
 " By my fealty !" exclaimed Master Henry Sinclair — for he, 
 indeed, was the captain — " By my fealty, boy, no harm shall come 
 to you ! I will swear thou art no spy, nor even a runaway, for 
 truth is writ in honest English on thy face." 
 
 " I am an orpheline, sir," said Clarissa, " and, as you see, 
 destitute." 
 
 " And weary enough, I warrant," said Master Henry. " You 
 wear the dress of a page ?" he added, after a moment's pause. 
 
 Clarissa held down her head. " Ay, sir," she faltered, " I 
 am a page, sir. You would find me a convenient lad, and a faithful. 
 I can sing ballads, sir, and play on the harpsichoi'd, sir, and tend 
 on fair ladies." 
 
 " And on gallant cavaliers, I suppose ?" said Master Henry, 
 " But we will not call over thy qualities to-night. I will engage 
 thee on the risk. There, quaff this cup of wine," he added, hand- 
 ing Clarissa a brimming tankard," and then stretch thyself on 
 yonder pallet." 
 
 Clarissa, as she took the cup from Master Henry, made a low 
 bow, and having drank off the contents, and replaced the cup on 
 the table, retired to the side of the bed. She threw herself on the 
 pallet, and drawing the clothes closely round her, and commend- 
 ing herself to the care of Heaven, sank into a refreshing sleep.
 
 214 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV.— THE TOWER OF LONDON. 
 
 SHOWING HOW THREE CHARACTERS OF THIS HISTORY ASSISTED DAME 
 ALICE PEURERS TO ATTEMPT AN ESCAPE FROM THE TOWER OF 
 LONDON, AND HOW FAR THEY SUCCEEDED. 
 
 Although Dame Alice Ferrers was kept a close prisoner in the 
 Tower of London, and persecuted to the utmost by the party of 
 which she had once been the most formidable opponent, she was 
 not iidiibited from corresponding with her private friends ; and 
 though these latter were few in number, and insignificant in point 
 of political influence, they were, for the most part, as steadfast and 
 true to her as she had been to them. But of all her friends, 
 private or political, there was none in whom she placed a confi- 
 dence equal to that which she reposed in the mediciner. That 
 person, indeed, was constantly watching for opportunities of doing 
 her service, but, as frequently hapjiens in the political world, dis- 
 appointment and defeat had so depressed the spirits of her party, 
 that it was evident that, while she was in confinement, little could 
 be done in her behalf. 
 
 At this juncture the Jew advised her to attempt to escape from 
 her prison, then — for the Bastile at Paris was not yet erected — 
 considered the most secure in Europe. Dame Alice, with that 
 daring which formed so peculiar a feature of her character, and 
 which neither time nor circumstances could diminish, instantly ap- 
 proved of the project, and determined, with the Jew's assistance, 
 to carry it into execution forthwith. 
 
 There w'as, however, one objection to this course which the 
 mediciner had not duly weighed. He could not, as on reflection 
 he became aware, undertake so perilous an enterprise unaided, 
 and he knew not, so severe was the penalty that would follow de- 
 tection, whom he could prevail on to assist him. At length, being 
 unable to think of more able confederates, he resolved to secure 
 the services of Master Simon Racket and Dick. 
 
 It was the third evening after his embassy to Leaden Hall, and 
 just as Dick was quitting Miriam for the house of Master Simon,
 
 DICK VVHITTINGTON. 215 
 
 that that person and the mediciner entered the chamber together. 
 The mediciner beckoned Miriam to retire, and, as soon as she had 
 quitted the room, addressed himself to Dick. 
 
 " Mj son," he began, " I have often noted, when j^ou weened 
 not I was making observation, that there is a quiet prudence con- 
 spicuous in your conduct which is unusual in a boy of your years; 
 and for that reason I am about to employ you in a matter which 
 is big with peril." 
 
 " Did I not say I would stand surety for him ?" asked Master 
 Simon. 
 
 " Tut, a pin !' exclaimed the Jew. 
 
 " I know not your purpose, father," said Dick, " but credit me, 
 whatever it may be, thou hast only to say, ' Do this,' and it shall 
 be done." 
 
 " Well spoken, boy," rejoined the mediciner. " Perse- 
 verance " 
 
 " Accomplisheth many things," suggested Master Simon. 
 
 " Perseverance, Dick," resumed the Jew, " will make a man of 
 you. But, to speak of the matter in hand, will you, do you 
 think, have heart to join in a very perilous enterprise indeed?" 
 
 " Ay, certes, father." 
 
 Here Master Simon slapped Dick so heartily on the back, that, 
 though he meant thus to express his entire approbation of his 
 answer, and to assure him of his sincere affection for his person, 
 he impelled him two or three feet from his seat. 
 
 " I told you so," he said, as he stooped to help Dick up, and, 
 having assisted him to his seat, brushed down his garments with 
 the cuff of his frock. " He is as bold a 'prentice as here and 
 there one." 
 
 His enthusiasm made both Dick and the mediciner laugh ; 
 and when he comprehended that they were laughing at him. 
 Master Simon laughed louder than either of them. 
 
 " 'Tis comical, to be sure," he observed; " but you're a for. 
 tuneless dog, Dick, though, as worthy Master Salmon always 
 argues, perseverance " 
 
 " Come, brother Simon," said the mediciner, " no more of 
 this. Will you," he added, turning to Dick, " help us to free a 
 prisoner from the Tower ? ' 
 
 " As far as you will employ nie, father," replied Dick. 
 
 " Then follow me straightway," said the mediciner, and Dick 
 accordingly followed with Master Simon. 
 
 They quitted the house, and, passing through Aldgate, pro- 
 ceeded to London bridge. They passed on to the middle of the 
 bridge, where was a chapel dedicated to our Lady ; and from this 
 edifice, which was formed in the side of the bridge, they de- 
 scended by a spiral staircase to the river. Hei'e they stepped 
 into a boat, and muffled the oars with some shreds of blanket, 
 and then, pushing oH' from the stairs, and giving way with their
 
 216 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 oars, they shot through the centre arch towards the Tower. The 
 iiicrht was very foggy, so that, without being observed by the sen- 
 tinels, they were enabled to heave-to within pistol-shot of the 
 ramparts, and here they proposed to remain till high tide favoured 
 their landing. 
 
 Leaving for the present the hero of this history, and quitting 
 the river for the prison, it is necessary that the chronicler should 
 introduce the reader to the lady for whom this enterprise was 
 undertaken. 
 
 Dame Alice Ferrers had taken every precaution that the medi- 
 ciner had beforehand recommended. She was confined in an 
 upper chamber in that part of the fortress called the Wakefield 
 Tower, from the casement of which she proposed to make her 
 egress. The mediciner had provided her with a file, with which, 
 after a week's arduous labour, she had contrived to cut through 
 the two bars that guarded her casement. She had not, however, 
 taken them from their place, and the warder, therefore, did not 
 detect their inefficiency. She was provided, also, with a travesty, 
 which, though it would not screen her from detection within the 
 fortress, was, as will hereafter be manifest, essential to her pur- 
 pose. She had been examining this attire, and had just placed it 
 under the pillow of her bed, when, without prefacing his intrusion 
 by any knock or other hint, the warder entered. 
 
 " A cavalier desires your audience," he said. 
 
 '' I can prevent the entrance of none," said Dame Alice. " Let 
 him approach." 
 
 Scarcely had Dame Alice uttered these words, half of which 
 were inaudible to the warder, when Sir Alfred Sinclair was 
 ushered in. 
 
 That ignoble cavalier, when he saw the tide turn against the 
 party to which Dame Alice belonged, had attached himself to the 
 strongest side ; and as the apostles of a new state of things are 
 always eager after respectable converts, and his rank lent him a 
 respectability which his character did not possess, had thereby 
 attained considerable political influence. None, notwithstanding 
 the favours that he had received from her, had expressed greater 
 animosity to Dame Alice Ferrers; and it was chiefly through his 
 instrumentality, seconded by the machinations of the Romish 
 priesthood, that she now stood charged with the capital crime of 
 high treason. But Dame Alice was duly informed of his pro- 
 ceedings, and felt assured that, if she could once gain her freedom, 
 she might not only defy his utmost malice, but make him and his 
 party quail beneath her frown. 
 
 " A thousand good-dens to your lordship," she cried, as Sir 
 Alfred confronted her. 
 
 Sir Alfred's quick eyes were fixed on her as though they would 
 search lier heart ; but her cheek wore its usual complexion, her 
 eyes swain in the same azure, her bust, which had so often been
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 217 
 
 extolled as the centre of perfection, was as still as a summer 
 evening, and the proudest and loveliest woman that ever entered 
 London's black prison-house — whence so many of the proud and 
 lovely have been led to the bloody block — met her enemy with a 
 smile. But if such was the outward disposition of Dame Alice, 
 her heart was writhing in the fetters which she had thrown round 
 it; and if she had not given speedy expression to her feelings, and 
 by this means relieved her bursting heart, she would probably, by 
 the springing of a blood-vessel, have closed her career smiling. 
 
 " You are not in your costly bower now, proud dame," said Sir 
 Alfred, amazed at her external firmness, <' and yet you smile. 
 Can it be true, what these crafty priests aver, that you are leagued 
 with the fiend ?" 
 
 " You came to exult here, did you ?" asked Dame Alice. 
 " Didst think, then, to find me a-weeping ? Fool ! Hound ! I am 
 Alice Ferrers still !" 
 
 " These are no names for a noble knight,'' exclaimed Sir Alfred 
 Sinclair; " and one, too, who would approve himself your friend 
 — ay, approve it, dame. Grant me but one petition, and, besides 
 betraying the secrets of my party, I will aid you to the uttermost. 
 Refuse me, and I will rest not, day nor night, till 1 see your fair 
 neck beneath the axe." 
 
 " And there, where you will never see me, I would acquit 
 myself as now," said Dame Alice. " But prithee, since you have 
 sketched me such a perspective, what does your petition seek ?" 
 
 " Your hand," replied Sir Alfred. 
 
 Sometimes, when nigh the equator, a bark will be laying on 
 the still bosom of the ocean as quietly as in the narrow bounds of 
 her native dock ; there will not be a ripple in the deep, not a 
 speck on the blue expanse, and the sky will be as clear and 
 smiling as light; and then, in that moment of repose, there will 
 come a rushing sound like the hoarse roar of death, and the bark, 
 standing aghast on the summit of a mountainous wave, will be 
 tossed towards a black and frowning sky, and the water and sky 
 and air, which but now seemed so gentle and lovely, will unite to 
 efl'ect her desti'uction. As suddenly as that visitation which 
 mariners term a white squall, and as completely and as violently, 
 did the deportment of Dame Alice Ferrers undergo a change. She 
 stamped her right foot furiously on the floor; the blood rushed 
 to her cheeks; a quick tremble, aftecting even her speech, per- 
 vaded her frame; and she clenched her small fists, and grated her 
 white teeth, as though she were suffering from an involuntary 
 convulsion, 
 
 " By my honour as a woman," she exclaimed, " if to be thy 
 wife, or even thy friend, were to place me on England's throne, 
 with the Bishop of Rome to draw my car, and his black-hearted 
 priests to bear my train — if all this were to be," she continued, as 
 Sir Alfred, mimicking her gesture, caught her by the wrist — 'if all
 
 218 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 this were to be, I would spurn thee as I do now." And, raising 
 her clenched fist as she spake, she struck him with all her force 
 on his mouth. "So ho!'' she screamed. "Without, there 1 
 
 Help!" 
 
 It was well for Dame Alice Ferrers, and for Sir Alfred Sinclair 
 himself, that the help for which she called so lustily was within 
 hail. The warder, thinking that eaves-dropping was an important 
 part of his duty, had been listening to the preceding colloquy ; 
 and no sooner did his prisoner invocate assistance than he burst 
 into the room. 
 
 " Marry, Sir Knight !" he exclaimed, as he saw Sir Alfred's 
 naked rapier raised in the air, " wouldst strike a fair lady ? I am 
 but a churl, as one may say, but even I would do battle for a 
 woman." 
 
 Sir xVlfred sheathed his rapier, and, drawing a kerchief from 
 within his placart, wiped away the blood from his mouth — for as 
 she had thrown all her strength, which was not a little, into the 
 blow, Dame Alice had drawn forth blood. 
 
 " I thank you, warder," said Dame Alice, '' for your dutiful 
 courtesy. And now, I prithee, remove this fellow from my pre- 
 sence." 
 
 " You list not my conditions, then ?" said Sir Alfred, with a 
 sneer. " Beware, proud dame, how you reject them ! for by my 
 
 oath of chivalry " 
 
 " Which you have broken but now," interrupted Dame Alice. 
 " But prithee, no more of this," she continued. " Remove him. 
 Sir Warder ; remove him straight, or the parliament shall be ad- 
 vised of your neglect." 
 
 " Come, come, gallant sir," said the warder, *' let me shew you 
 the way out, sir. I would not offend you for a trifle, sir; but 
 'tis mine office, you know, to protect the lady." 
 
 " A murrain on thee, jackanapes !" exclaimed Sir Alfred Sin- 
 clair. " Is a lord of the parliament to be controlled by thee ?" 
 
 " 'Tis mine office, sir," replied the warder ; " and you must 
 needs comply. I prithee provoke me not to summon aid." 
 
 " I will come to-morrow with a sufficient warrant," said Sir Al- 
 fred — " And then, proud dame," he added, glaring fiercely at 
 Dame Alice, " be thou prepared for sudden tidings." 
 " I defy you !" exclaimed Dame Alice. 
 
 " We will try you, then, to-morrow,'' returned Sir Alfred ; and, 
 followed by the impatient warder, he quitted the room. 
 
 When Dame Alice was left to herself, and heard the warder 
 lock and chain her chamber-door on the outside, she endeavoured, 
 by anticipating the change of circumstances which her proposed 
 escape from the Tower would effect, to recover her equanimity. 
 She was aware that among the nobility and the disciples of Wick- 
 liffV; she had numerous steady friends ; and as she traversed the 
 narrow limits of her chamber, and dwelt on the almost invincible
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 219 
 
 obstacles that opposed her freedom, she felt that, if she could 
 overcome those obstacles, the romance which success would throw 
 round her name, and the character for courage which it would win 
 for her, would, while it depressed the spii-its of her enemies, inspire 
 her friends with confidence and resolution. 
 
 " Ay," she muttered, as this consequence occurred to her, " I 
 will make the proudest of them all bend yet. They shall see 
 Alice Pen-ers in her meridian, and when I fall thence, my decline 
 shall be like the sun's — more glorious than my noon. 'Tis time, 
 now, to begin.'' 
 
 As she spake she advanced to her bed-side. She threw off the 
 greater part of her apparel, and, tossing it on one side, took the 
 travesty aforementioned from beneath her pillow, and arrayed 
 herself therein. She then drew aside the drapery of her case- 
 ment, and having placed a lighted taper in the embrasure — which 
 was the signal appointed by the Jew — waited the arrival of her 
 friends. 
 
 The clock was striking the hour of midnight, and the lieutenant 
 had just gone his first rounds, when, favoui'ed by the high tide, 
 the boat containing Dick and his confederates pushed close in 
 under the ramparts of the Tower. The night, as has been before 
 observed, was very foggy, and they wei'e consequently screened 
 from observation. When they had pushed close under the ram- 
 part, and listened a few moments till the heavy tread of the sen- 
 tinel became inaudible, the mediciner stood up in the boat, and 
 unlocking a locker in the stern, which had been concealed by an 
 old sail, drew thence about fourteen or fifteen feet of rope ladder. 
 This, which was secured at the end to two iron hooks, he threw to 
 the top of the rampart ; but it was not till after he had been twice 
 foiled that he succeeded in lodging it. 
 
 " Dick," he whispered, after a moment's pause, " you must 
 ascend first, because, if the ladder bear not you, we must alter 
 our plan ; but if you can ascend, and you find all quiet, you can 
 fix the hooks more securelj'. Then pull your right-hand rope, to 
 signify to us your safety, and we will straight ascend," 
 
 Dick accordingly mounted the ladder, and ascended cautiously 
 to the rampart. AH was still, and the ladder seemed to hold firm, 
 so he gave the signal which the mediciner had appointed. 
 
 Master Simon Racket was the next to ascend. He was quickly 
 followed by the mediciner, who, drawing Dick and Master Simon 
 to the edge of the rampart, placed his hand over the mouth of 
 each. 
 
 He whispered so low, that though they stopped their breath to 
 catch his slightest articulation, they could scarcely comprehend 
 what he said. " When the sentinel approaches, Simon, hold your 
 breath. Let him pass us a step or two ; then catch you his left 
 arm, and leave his right to me. You, Dick, must then press this 
 plaster over his mouth, and then "
 
 220 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 That slow, heavy tread, which denotes the watchful sentinel, was 
 now audible. In a few minutes it became more distinct, but so 
 dense was the fog, that though he passed within a few feet of 
 them, nor Dick, nor Master Simon, nor the mediciner, were dis- 
 covered. Indeed, though they peered their utmost, none of the 
 trio could see the person for whom they looked, but they knew, 
 by the nearness of his tread, his exact situation. The Jew tugged 
 Master Simon by the frock, and the next moment, as his caliver 
 dropped from his hand, the arms of the sentinel were secured. 
 He would, however, have raised an alarm, but before he could 
 cry out — nay, before he could draw a breath, Dick had pressed 
 the pitch-plaster over his mouth. 
 
 " We have made a beginning," said the mediciner, tripping him 
 up. •' Do your utmost now," he added, as he tied his hands and 
 feet together ; " for your utmost will be but little." 
 
 They drew up the rope-ladder, and coiled it up, and then de- 
 scended from the ramparts. 
 
 It required an experienced foot — for no eye, however penetrat- 
 ing, could have peered through the compact darkness — to tread 
 the way to the Wakefield Tower ; but the mediciner would have 
 made it out blindfolded. He was, however, obliged to proceed 
 with great caution, and when he reached the prison of Dame 
 Alice, and discerned a faint glimmer in the upper casement, the 
 clock struck the half hour after twelve. In another half-hour, as 
 he was well aware, an officer would again go the rounds, and then, 
 if they were not free of the Tower, they would assuredly be dis- 
 covered. 
 
 The mediciner took a stone from his pocket, and threw it up at 
 the casement. In a moment after, a slight cough, which assured 
 him of Dame Alice's readiness, answered him from above ; and 
 the mediciner straightway set about groping for something that 
 the dame had beforehand agreed to let down. He grabbled the 
 end of a silken rope, and tied it round the hooks of the ladder, 
 which Dame Alice, who held the other end of the rope, instantly 
 pulled up. 
 
 " Are you ready ?" asked the mediciner. 
 
 " Ay," replied the lady, " but I can get out but one of the 
 bars. My strength will not serve me with the other." 
 
 This was a contingency that none of the party had anticipated. 
 Dick, however, suggested an expedient which the mediciner re- 
 commended to Dame Alice. 
 
 " Try to force the standing bar with the bar you have taken 
 out," he said ; and, as he spoke, the clock struck the three quarters 
 past twelve. 
 
 There was now only a quarter of an hour left them, and it was 
 full five minutes, owing as much to her excessive hurry as her 
 want of strength, before Dame Alice forced the bar. At length, 
 however, they heard it snap ; and the mediciner and Master Simon
 
 J? r^ c/ui/>i^' 
 
 /^ 
 
 /,//..,. Mr..:yiiUi:^ cA'.J<rn./^ /n^y^^ //i^ 
 
 ^i^/^/'<^/-'^^^^ • 
 
 />,z^,s 2ZO. 2.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 221 
 
 held the ladder firm. It was too short, for the window was twenty- 
 feet from the ground, but they held it up as high as they could, 
 and threw all their strength into their arms. 
 
 Dame Alice descended the steps with a resolute heart. She 
 gained the bottom of the ladder, and, holding on by the side-ropes, 
 placed one foot on the Jew and one on Master Simon, and sprang 
 on the ground. 
 
 " Hush !" whispered the Jew. 
 
 It is natural that women and boys should be timid, and Dame 
 Alice Ferrers and Dick, even before the mediciner spoke, felt 
 their hearts beat quick. The noise that they heard sounded not 
 like a noise of this world. It was a rustling, like that which a 
 body makes in moving through long grass — not like that either, 
 but like the rustling of a dead man's shroud. It came closer and 
 closer, and the whole party, as it became more distinct, reflected 
 that they were in the Tower of London, 
 
 " With many a foul and midnight murder fed," 
 
 where the fair and virtuous and vile, the martyr and patriot and 
 slave, the warrior and traitor and coward, the chaste and beautiful 
 and free, have been thrown by the arm of tyranny, or fettered by 
 the hand of justice, and left, without a ray of hope in their dark 
 dungeons, to pine and waste and wither, and dream of the bloody 
 executioner and the red scaffold, till, worn out with anguish, and 
 writhing under the torture of those diabolical instruments which 
 a ruthless church had not only countenanced but' invented, they 
 have found the axe a compassionate friend, arid hell itself a home. 
 Such was the terrific reflection that rushed across the mind of 
 those four persons, and at the same moment a mass of Avhite 
 drapery brushed against their bodies. None of them, however, 
 could say, then or afterwards, whether the appearance that they 
 had beheld was ghostly or no ; for, as the greatest of moralists has 
 observed, we know so little of the other world that we cannot say 
 whether such things be. 
 
 The mediciner was the first to recover his self-possession. 
 
 " It wants scarcely five minutes to morning," he whispered. 
 " Follow quickly." 
 
 They pushed on accordingly ; but it struck one o'clock some 
 minutes before they reached the rampart. They listened a moment : 
 — all was still as death. 
 
 " The officer has left not his ward yet," whispered Master 
 Simon. 
 
 " I think no," replied the Jew. 
 
 " Let us onward, then," said Dame Alice. " I tremble till I 
 am out of this unhallowed fortress." 
 
 ^' Hist !" whispered Dick ; and they listened. 
 
 " 'Tis nothing," said the mediciner, " though I marvel that we 
 hear not the guard."
 
 222 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 They ascended the steps, and gained the rampart. There was 
 the sentinel, laying in the posture that they had left him in, and, 
 as far as they could see, asleep. Dame Alice, who had almost 
 stumbled over him, caught up his caliver, which Avas laying beside 
 him. They advanced to the edge of the rampart. 
 
 " Surrender !" cried an authoritative voice ; and they perceived 
 that the guard, which they thought had not yet quitted ward, had 
 been lying in ambush for their coming. 
 
 " Back I" exclaimed Dame Alice. ''Back, I say! or, by the 
 God that made me, I will fire !" 
 
 There was a burst of laughter, for the guard treated her threat 
 as a joke, but she levelled her piece, pointed it at a man who had 
 placed himself between her and the river, and fired. Dick, though 
 there was a great uproar, heard a deep groan above all the oaths 
 and exclamations of the guard. He was the last who had ascended, 
 and it was so dark that even his outline was not seen, and as he 
 bethought him of this circumstance, and perceived that there was 
 a possibility of escaping, he stole cautiously down from the ram- 
 parts. 
 
 To attempt to get out of the Tower, now that its warders were 
 alarmed, would, he knew, be madness, and he therefore deter- 
 mined to grope about for some place of concealment. He kept 
 close to the wall, and walked on as softly as he could, stopping, as 
 he fancied that he heard a footstep, to assure himself that all was 
 silent. He had continued thus about a quarter of an hour, and 
 turned several angles in the wall, when, as he pressed on, he fell 
 back against a door which stood a couple of feet inward, and 
 which the abrupt percussion of his body threw open. Having 
 listened a moment, and heard nothing to indicate that it was al- 
 ready tenanted, he entered. 
 
 The room was filled with logs of wood, cut ready for firing, and 
 Dick, who discovered this circumstance by groping round, con- 
 ceived it to be a lumber-room. Somewhat re-assured by this dis- 
 covery, which held out a promise of safety till the morning, he 
 laid himself down in the far corner, and though he had determined 
 to keep awake, in order that he might, if necessary, be prepared 
 to retreat, sufi'ered sleep to overcome him. 
 
 He was awakened by a gentle kick, and, on opening his eyes, 
 perceived that it was broad day. He perceived, also, that he had 
 been awakened by the foot of a personage to whose acquaintance 
 he thought that he might safely lay claim. 
 
 " Marry," exclaimed this individual, " I'll be sworn you're 
 some housebreaker, or vagabonder, or one of that kidney. What 
 may your business be, please you, in the king's Tower of London 
 here ?" 
 
 "What!" replied Dick, "dost not acknowledge me. Dame 
 Roaster ? Dost forget your Dickon, who used to come to the 
 Tower Real with Master Simon ?"
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 223 
 
 " Hey ! What say you ? impatiently replied the cook — for such 
 was the office which Dame Roaster held in the establishment of 
 Dame Alice Ferrers, and such, as she afterwards informed Dick, 
 the post which she now held in the establishment of the Tower 
 lieutenant — " Are you Dick Whittington, indeed?" 
 
 " That am I," returned Dick, surprised that his identity should 
 be for a moment questioned. 
 
 " And you were one of the party last night ?" rejoined the 
 cook. " Hush!" she added; " you need tell me nothing. The 
 story is all over the city by this time. There now, fear nothing, 
 but take up some of these logs, and follow me to the kitchen." 
 
 Dick did as he was desired, and on reaching the kitchen, where 
 there were several other domestics, was sharply rebuked by the 
 cook for an offence of which he was innocent. 
 
 " And so, ' she said, " instead of doing your mother's errand, 
 you must need loiter to look at the Tower, must you ? I'll teach 
 you to use dispatch, I warrant" — and she gave Dick a hearty cuff 
 on the ear. " There," she continued, as she gave him some 
 broken bread and meat which she had wrapped up in a napkin ; 
 " take that to your poor mother ; and mind, sirrah, if you loiter, I 
 shall hear of it, and I will requite you. Your way is over the 
 Tower green. 
 
 Dick took the hint, and placing the cook's present under his 
 arm, quitted the kitchen. 
 
 The lodgings of the Lieutenant of the Tower, from which Dick 
 now issued, were situate in one corner of the green, or, more pro- 
 perly, the great court of the Tower, and, without pausing to 
 survey the structures with which it was crowded, Dick pushed 
 over this court to the Byward tower. He passed the Stone 
 Kitchen, which then, as now, served as a canteen for the Tower 
 garrison, and, though several men-at-arms were leaning against 
 the walls of the Bell and Byward towers, passed unquestioned 
 over the drawbridge. 
 
 There was now one gate only between him and liberty, but that 
 gate, unfortunately, was guarded with greater vigilance than all 
 the others together. Dick, however, was not aware of this circum- 
 stance, and he pushed on, without abating his pace, to the Bulwark 
 gate. But as he approached this black structure, whence he had 
 hoped to emerge safely on Tower Hill, a challenge from a sentinel, 
 who stood close beside him, suddenly startled his equanimity. 
 
 " Ho you, there !" cried the sentinel. " Whence come you, 
 sirrah ?" 
 
 Dick, fancying that he was now shut out from freedom, was 
 unable to reply. His first impulse was to retreat, and shelter him- 
 self under the wing of Dame Roaster; but reflecting, the next mo- 
 ment, that this step would excite suspicion, and that, if the guard 
 were so resolved, nothing could prevent his captuie, he determined 
 to stand his ground. He could not, however, entirely repress his
 
 224 THE LIFE AND TIMES 
 
 fears, which were displayed on his pale cheek, nor refrain from 
 shrinking back a pace or two, when the sentinel repeated his 
 challenge. 
 
 " Ho, sirrah !" cried the sentinel. " What hast thou in thy 
 bundle, thou mute monkey, eh ?" 
 
 The artifice of the cook instantly flashed across Dick's mind, 
 and, as his courage revived, he commenced untying the bundle. 
 
 " Nothing, an' please your worship," he said, " save some broken 
 meat, presented me but now, and, as I can have certified, honestly 
 come by.'' 
 
 " We must be assured of this," replied the soldier. " Come 
 with me, sirrah ; and one of the yeomen will examine thee." 
 
 Dick accordingly retraced his steps, in company with the sentry, 
 to the Byward tower. Here he was examined by an exon, 
 or yeoman of the guard ; but as his resolutions were quickly taken, 
 and the few minutes occupied by his passage from the Bulwark 
 gate to the Byward tower aftbrded him time to reflect, he was pre- 
 pared with answers to all the questions which were put to him. 
 Having, therefore, acquitted himself of all suspicion of larceny, and 
 given a satisfactory reference to Dame Roaster, who appeared in 
 court to corroborate his statement, he was dismissed, and suff'ered 
 to depart from the Tower. He came out at the foot of Great 
 Tower Hill, and passing on to the Minories, and thence to 
 Aldgate, proceeded to his master's house.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 22.': 
 
 THE THIRD PERIOD. —MANHOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I.— THE LOVE-LORN. 
 
 WHICH, AS IT CONTAINS SEVERAL INTERESTING LOVE PASSAGES, WILL 
 CALL FOR MUCH SYMPATHY FROM ANY SENTIMENTAL YOUNG 
 LADY WHO READS IT. 
 
 Upwards of seven years after the morning of Dick Whittington's 
 escape from the Tower — within which fortress he left Master 
 Simon Racket and the mediciner incarcerated — a tall, brawny 
 young man, whose worn apparel, cut in the fashion called close 
 and short, savoured of poverty and wretchedness, walked hastily 
 forth from the house of Master Fitzwarren, in Leadenhall-street. 
 The evening was very dark, and the rain was descending in tor- 
 rents, which circumstance urged the pedestrian, whose russet 
 clothes and tattered buskins were soon saturated with rain, to 
 quicken his pace. He stopped before a house in the vicinity of 
 Aldgate, and raising the latch, and pushing open the door, as- 
 cended a stair which led to the upper chambers. 
 
 Having reached the summit of the stair, and groped his way 
 thence to the end of a dark passage, he tapped gently at an inner 
 door, which was straightway opened. 
 
 " So ho, Dick Whittington !" said a short, close-set man, who, 
 while he held an infant to his breast with his left arm, extended 
 his right hand to the stranger. " What news, my heart?" 
 
 " None, Master Simon," replied Dick ; " but I pray you to let 
 me pass, for, by'r Lady, if you'll believe the oath, I'm wet to the 
 skin." 
 
 Master Simon, as his friend thus delivered himself, pulled him 
 within the threshold, and was drawing him across the room to a large 
 fire, which blazed and crackled on the capacious hearth, when he 
 was opposed in his progress by three little urchins in bedgowns, 
 who, hallooing each other forwards, and calling on the stranger by 
 
 Q
 
 226 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 the endearing name of gossip,* seemed determined that no one 
 but themselves should offer him the slightest courtesy. A buxom- 
 looking dame, who was preparing a skillet of wassail at the fire, 
 called tliem back, and threatened them with a melancholy-featured 
 birch which hung over the mantel ; but detecting something in her 
 face which was at variance with the tone of her voice, the children 
 persisted in advancing. 
 
 " Well, well," said Dick, as he successively caught up each of 
 them, and suffered them to caress him, " I must give each of you 
 a kiss, I suppose. There, now let me pass, 1 pray you" — and 
 pushing them gently aside, and advancing to the fire, Dick saluted 
 the cheek of Dame Eleanor Racket. 
 
 " Sit you down, Dick," said the latter person, " and warm your 
 'numbed limbs. You shall presently have some wassail." 
 
 Dick sat down on a rude but comfortable settle, which, as it had 
 been drawn up to the fire previous to his entrance, and had not 
 been occuj^ied by any of the family, had most likely been placed 
 there in expectation of his coming. As he removed his hood, and 
 the fire cast its red light over his face, he seemed, for a moment 
 or two, to be lost in reflection. There was something in his ap- 
 pearance, indeed, that bespoke a pensive disposition. His oval- 
 shaped face, which bore in every feature the stamp of intelligence, 
 was somewhat careworn, though, between the eye and the mouth, 
 it was marked with that animation that denotes a sanguine tempera- 
 ment. His full, dark eyes, too, notwithstanding that they appeared 
 too thoughtful for one who had scarce crossed the threshold of 
 maturity, and thus harmonized well with his broad, high forehead, 
 occasionally emitted flashes of a less serious character ; and about 
 his mouth, which was surmounted by a slight moustache, there 
 was a playful expression that counteracted the gravity of his other 
 features. The neatness with which, notwithstanding their age and 
 shabbiness, each of his habiliments was ordered to his form, and 
 the nicety, not to say taste, with which his moustachios and hair 
 were arranged, shewed that he had taken some pains with his 
 toilet, and — an excellent quality in a young man — that he was not 
 indiff"erent to his personal appearance. 
 
 " I wish, dame," said Master Simon, a few minutes after Dick's 
 entrance — " I wish, dame," he said, as he helped himself to a cup 
 of the wassail, and after draining it to the bottom, and smacking 
 his lips with an air of relish, continued, " that you would put 
 these dear little pledges to bed. They will teaze Dickon to death, 
 bless their little hearts 1" This benediction he put in as an apology 
 for the tone in which he spoke, but it seemed, from the look 
 which he gave her, that his patience could no longer brook the 
 caresses of the artless infant. 
 
 * Godfather.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 227 
 
 " Remove them not for me, dame,"' said Dick, as Dame Eleanor, 
 who was a most dutiful wife, and who knew his temper, hastened 
 to comply with the wishes of her husband — " 1 am too fond of 
 them to be vexed at what they do. I only wish, as there cannot 
 be too many Master Simons, that one of them were a boy." 
 
 " 'Tis my misfortune," observed Master Simon, smiling at the 
 compliment, " that they are all girls ; but, as worthy Master Sal- 
 mon says, " 
 
 Here Dame Eleanor, hastily dropping the infant into a capa- 
 cious cradle, ran behind her husband's chair, and, clapping her 
 hand over his mouth, forbade him, under divers severe penalties, 
 to finish his sentence. 
 
 " Well, a truce with you,'' said Master Simon, when he was 
 able to articulate ; only, as you love quiet, put these noisy young 
 nymphs to bed. There — there," he continued, as he kissed each 
 of his children ; " good-den to you, my hearts. Well, Dick," he 
 resumed, when his dame had removed the children, " cheer thee 
 up, for perseverance " 
 
 " Ay, worthy sir," interrupted Dick, " so you often say, and, 
 sooth to speak, I doubt it not. 'Tis a grievous trial, though, to 
 be working on, and pushing circumstance aside, and brooking ill- 
 usage, for years ! for years I" 
 
 '' And I say," rejoined Master Simon, catching up Dick's hand, 
 and looking in his face, " is not there One who watches how we 
 bear this grievous trial ? Is not there One, I would question you, 
 who can help you on, and who, if you fail not yourself, will help 
 you on, eh ?" 
 
 " True, true I" replied Dick ; and one here, too" — and he pressed 
 Master Simon's hand — "who has never forsaken me, — me 
 who " 
 
 " Art a fool ?" exclaimed Master Simon. " Wouldst anger me ? 
 Wouldst cast obligation on me, eh? But come, Dick, times will 
 change anon ; cheer thee up, man." 
 
 And Master Simon poured out a cup of the wassail, which was 
 now ready for use, and presented it to Dick. 
 
 " Hast heard," he resumed, after he had quaffed a cup of the 
 wassail, which, as need scarcely be observed, was a liquor com- 
 posed of apples, honey, and ale — " how Dame Alice Ferrers has 
 been acquitted by the lords of parliament ?" 
 
 " That have I not," replied Dick. 
 
 " She has, then," continued Master Simon, " and chiefly, as I 
 take it, thi-ough the influence of Lord Walter de Windsor." 
 
 " The same who was deputy in Ireland ?" asked Dick. 
 
 " Ay," replied Master Simon. " And how think you the dame 
 hath requited him ?'' 
 
 " How ?" asked Dick. 
 
 " She hath given him her hand in marriage," rejoined Master 
 Simon.
 
 228 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " Was it to this Walter de Windsor, or the Duke of Lancaster, 
 that you and the mediciner owed your liberation from the Tower?" 
 
 '• To both,'' said INIaster Simon. " The mediciner sent to the 
 Duke the morning after our attachment, and his highness inter- 
 fered forthwith ; but he would not, I think, have obtained our 
 discharge, had not Lord Walter come to the rescue." 
 
 " He is a noble cavalier, and a chivalrous," observed Dick. 
 
 " Nevertheless," rejoined Master Simon, " the dame would 
 scarce have accepted his suit but for the mediciner. She had 
 taken a fancy to blaster Henry, the young cavalier at the hall ; 
 and, only the Jew told her that he was dead — of which we have no 
 certain assurance — would for his sake have remained a widow." 
 
 " She is a wondrous woman," said Dick — '' But hath aught been 
 heard of this Master Henry ?'' 
 
 " Xo," I'eplied Master Simon. " That house, I fear me, has 
 fallen for ever." 
 
 " I fear it, too," observed Dick. " 'Tis now eight years since 
 Master Cobbs quitted us. Three years, as I understand, were a 
 tedious voyage ; yet have no tidings of him been i-eceived. Haply — 
 for we can hardly put faith in those paynim Moors — he has been 
 sold to slavery." 
 
 " Mayhap, indeed," said Master Simon, mournfully. 
 
 This conjecture seemed to depress the spirits of both the friends, 
 and, despite the cheering smile of Dame Eleanor Racket, who, 
 having deposited her offspring in their respective beds, had taken 
 her accustomed seat by the fire, and notwithstanding that the 
 wassail, of which another skillet-full had been prepared, steamed 
 and hissed in a large bowl on the table, neither of them spoke 
 without effort. The temporary exhilaration which, during their 
 colloquy, had spread itself over Dick's face, gave way for the de- 
 jected look that was more in keeping with his appearance ; and as 
 he rose to depart, and took leave of Master Simon and his wife, a 
 deep and mournful sigh evinced the profundity of his feelings. 
 
 " Good- den, Dickon," said Master Simon, as Dick passed down 
 the stairs. " Cheer thee up ; and remember, that persever- 
 ance " 
 
 The conclusion of Master Simon's speech, owing to Dick's 
 having turned an angle of the stairs, was inaudible ; but as he 
 generally sought to cheer Dick's spirits by the recitation of a 
 certain proverb, which set forth how that many things were ac- 
 complished by perseverance, Dick inferred the moral from the 
 commencement. He descended the stairs, and groping his way to 
 the street, proceeded to the residence of the Jew mediciner. 
 
 He knocked at the door, and IMiriaui, who had now shot up into 
 womanhood, straightway admitted him. 
 
 " 1 have tarried for you some time, Dick," slie said. " I fear 
 me," she added, as she preceded him to the upper chamber, " you 
 are becoming neglectful."
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 229 
 
 " Of whom, fair mistress?" asked Dick. 
 
 " Of no person," said Miriam, seating herself by his side, " but 
 of your studies." 
 
 It was easy to see, though she threw as much composure into 
 her manner as she could command, that Miriam had been awaiting 
 Dick's arrival with a greater degree of impatience than she chose 
 to admit. Perhaps — for her father was from home — she was 
 timid, and glad to have the protection of a sturdy young bachelor 
 like Dick ; perhaps — and this is the more likely — she would have 
 preferred the protection and company of Dick to that of any person 
 under the sun. It is certain, though she sought to disguise her 
 feelings, that directly he presented himself a flush spread over her 
 cheek, which, with the dazzling expression of her dark eyes, suffi- 
 ciently testified that he was a welcome visitor. 
 
 " You are very 'complished now, Dickon," she observed, after 
 they had been seated about a quarter of an hour. " Remember 
 you how, when you first came here, you were puzzled to repeat 
 your alphabet ?" 
 
 " Ay," replied Dick ; " and remember, also, how you troubled 
 yourself to teach me. We have loved each other ever since." 
 
 Miriam blushed ; her bosom heaved quick, and she looked con- 
 fused. " You were always kind, Dick," she said. 
 
 " And so are you," rejoined Dick, •' even as a sister." 
 
 " Sister 1" echoed Miriam. " God of Israel, forbid !" 
 
 *' Forbid what?" cried Dick, amazed. " But, true — I pray you 
 to forgive my assurance. I am, in sooth, unworthy to be your 
 brother, fair mistress. I spoke hastefully." 
 
 " Oh, you are very — very good !" sobbed Miriam, placing her 
 two arms on his right shoulder, and resting her head thereon, so 
 that, as he turned round to look at her, her long, black tresses fell 
 over her fair cheeks, and hiding the blushes which had there 
 spread themselves, as though they were ashamed that even those 
 mellow cheeks should be seen, swept over her neck and bosom : — 
 " Oh, you are very — very good, Dick ! I am not good enough to 
 be your sister. I would not be your sister for the whole world " 
 
 " Well, then, I will call you so no more," said Dick, clutching 
 her hand ; " though, to speak sooth, yours is a strange fantasy." 
 
 " Fantasy ! call you it?" said Miriam, as she raised her head, 
 and, after staring for a monient at the tapestry opposite, drew her 
 left hand — for her right was held by Dick — over her starting eyes, 
 as though she would banish some fearful illusion. " Ay, it is a 
 fantasy. Tell me, Dick ; do fantasies sleep — no, not sleep, but 
 live, and breathe their distempered whisperings in here?" and she 
 pressed her hand on her bursting bosom. " Do fantasies 'com- 
 pany you to the pillow? and stay with you in dreams? and rise 
 with you on the morrow ? and whether you sleep or sit or stand, 
 walk or converse or muse, bide with you still, like the heart's
 
 230 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 blood that they live on ? If fantasies do this, Dick, I have such a 
 fantasy ; and, oh I oh dear ! it is a very mournful one, indeed." 
 
 " God have a care of you, poor maiden !" said Dick. 
 
 " Ay," sobbed Miriam, throwing herself on her knees, and 
 burying her head in her hands. " God have a care of me I God 
 keep me from distraction I God shield me from despair !" 
 
 " Come, come, mistress," said Dick, as he raised her to her 
 seat: " this is unwonted. What is it that thus moves you ? You 
 were wont to tell me everything. Wherefore, then, do you keep 
 this from me ?" 
 
 " It has gone off now," replied Miriam. " It is a fit that comes 
 over me ; and I am very weak — very weak, indeed, and cannot 
 restrain me. There — I am better now. I shall be well pre- 
 sently." 
 
 " Are you avised of that ?" asked Dick, as he kissed her hand. 
 " Go to, then ! Why, one would fancy you were in love." 
 
 " And would it be a sin to love, Dick?" asked Miriam, as she 
 fixed her dark eyes full on him, and peered, if one may so express 
 it, into his heart. 
 
 " Oh, no I" replied Dick, " or I were a grievous sinner." 
 
 " Dost love any one^ then ?" demanded Miriam, with sudden 
 animation. 
 
 " Do I ?" replied Dick. " Ay, do I ; and so deeply, so de- 
 votedly, so hopelessly, that I were a fit one to sing you a sonato. 
 You see now, ray love hath such Aveight with me, that though my 
 ambition would lead me to other lands, and haply advance me to 
 high fortune, yet choose I rather to keep secret the knowledge 
 you have taught me, as well as the craft I have learned from 
 Master Simon, forasmuch as I would ever, even as I am now, be 
 nigh the lady of my heart." 
 
 '' Now!" exclaimed Miriam, as her eyes, which overflowed with 
 pleasure, were turned in the opposite direction : " how mean you, 
 Dick?" 
 
 " 1 may anger you by saying ?" replied Dick. 
 
 " No, no I" returned Miriam, impatiently. " Who is the lady ?" 
 
 " You will think me presumptuous ?" rejoined Dick. 
 
 " No, no ! you are worthy any one. Who, then, is the lady ?" 
 
 " Mistress Alice Fitzwarren," said Dick. 
 
 The human heart, riding on the billows of life, may sometimes 
 be compared to a gallant ship on the ocean. And, certainly, 
 it is a deep and incomprehensible mystery — that manning of the 
 lieart which anticipation of evil sometimes effects ; for as the 
 mariner prepares for a gale, of which he is warned by portentous 
 appearances, so we brace up our energies, furl up our hopes, con- 
 sult the compass of religion, and prepare to meet the evils which 
 " cast their shadows before." But who can prepare against the 
 ruthless hurricane, that, even as its first hoarse whisper sweeps
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 231 
 
 through the air, rushes forward on the wings of destruction ? Like 
 that hurricane — as fiercely, as abruptly, as completely — did 
 Dick's confession dash over Miriam's heart ; and that heart, that 
 was so fond and so pure and so sensitive, that was teeming, but 
 one short moment before, with the efflorescence of vernal hope, 
 whose pulsation was so musical and quiet and regular, — that gay 
 young heart was a wreck. 
 
 And yet — poor, broken-hearted thing ! — she did not weep, nor 
 even sigh. She laughed, though. Her brain was on fire, and her 
 head Avheeled round and round and round, and her bosom heaved 
 and sank and heaved again, and she laughed. There Mere all her 
 dreams of bliss, all her hopes of earthly happiness, all her air- 
 built castles, which, even to the moment before, she had thought 
 as durable as structures of adamant — there they were, prostrate 
 and crumbled ; and the young suff"erer laughed. One might have 
 told her, five minutes previous, or she herself might have thought, 
 that it would prove thus, and though it would have surpassed her 
 belief, because she was unwilling to give it ci'edit, she would have 
 wept ; but now that she knew it for certain, now that there was 
 not so much of hope in the entire wilderness of life as would 
 shed a glowworm's light over her path — now, in this extremity 
 and depth of wretchedness, she laughed. There was, indeed, a 
 spasm passed over her face — a spasm that eftectually checked any 
 effusion of tears ; and then, as the blood forsook her cheeks, and 
 the speculation left her eyes, she laughed. 
 
 " I thought you would laugh at me," sighed Dick ; and Miriam 
 laughed on, 
 
 " I could weep," continued Dick, " were it manly." 
 
 How the tables and cushions and tapestry and walls and 
 tomes and charts and papers wheeled round before those dark 
 eyes ! She tried to fix one object, or to scrutinize another, or to 
 review a third ; but no, so soon as they met her giddy eye, they 
 danced away. This was very sickening — very horrible ; but it 
 only infused energy into her hysterical laugh. There is something 
 so unearthly in that unnatural peal — something so like the laugh 
 which, if it were possible for disembodied spirits to indulge in 
 laughter, one would think appropriate in a ghost, that even when 
 it comes on the ear unexpectedly and for the first time, it grates 
 our most sturdy feelings ; and Dick, having waited some moments 
 in expectation that it would be arrested, and finding that it be- 
 came more and more energetic, was at length conscious of its 
 morbid character. He rose instantly, and seizing a cruet of 
 vinegar which stood on the sideboard, and pushing her raven 
 ringlets aside, applied the vinegar to her temples. A loud knock- 
 ing at the street-door called him away. He descended the stairs, 
 and was rejoiced to find, on reaching the door, that the person 
 M'ithout was the mediciner. 
 
 "Haste, father!" said Dick, as he grasped the mediciner's
 
 232 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 brawnj' hand. " Miriam has been seized with a fit, which came over 
 her as I was talking with her, and I am alarmed for her safety." 
 
 " I thank you, my son," said the mediciner ; and, without 
 waiting for the light, he darted up the stairs, and sprang to the 
 side of his daughter. 
 
 " Reach me yonder vial, my son," he said to Dick, as the latter 
 entered the chamber. 
 
 He took the vial from Dick, and, having withdrawn the cork, 
 held it to the nostrils of Miriam. She revived almost immedi- 
 ately. The mediciner, however, still held the nostrum to her nose, 
 and, by his directions, Dick again applied the vinegar to her 
 temples. 
 
 " Thank you, father — thank you, thank you, Dick," she mur- 
 mured, after an interval of a few minutes. *' I am better now. — 
 I am quite well," she added. 
 
 " How did this hap ?" asked the mediciner of Dick. 
 
 " Even as I spoke with her, father," replied Dick. " I thought, 
 at first, she was laughing at what I said ; but as she continued, and 
 I knew my words were no matter for jest, I perceived that her 
 laugh savoured more of woe than mirth." 
 
 " Even so," said the mediciner. " When the heart-strings crack, 
 the mouth will grin." 
 
 Dick resumed his original seat, and endeavoured, by adopt- 
 ing a light tone of discourse, to exhilarate Miriam's spirits. This, 
 however, he was unable to accomplish, and as the conversation be- 
 gan to fiag, and the clock of Saint Michael, Cornhill, warned him 
 to depart, he rose to take leave. 
 
 *' You will be here to-morrow ?" said Miriam. 
 
 " Certes, mistress," replied Dick, and, bidding her and her 
 father " good-den," he sallied forth. 
 
 The rain still continued. The streets were ankle-deep in mud, 
 and here and there, where the water had collected in large pud- 
 dles, Dick slipped in up to the middle of his leg. He reached 
 his master's house, and having inflicted several knocks on the door, 
 waiting between each knock till his patience was exhausted, was 
 at length admitted by Dame Grammont. 
 
 He betook himself to his garret straightway. As he stretched 
 himself on his humble couch, which was so short that his feet pro- 
 truded from the bottom, he lucubrated on the events of the even- 
 ing. There was at least one thing, he thought, on which he could 
 congratulate himself, and that was, the disclosure which he had 
 made to Miriam. The discomposure of the latter person, and her 
 horrible laugh, that rang in his ears still, were to him unaccount- 
 able ; for he never once conjectured, what a moi'e experienced 
 person would have perceived, that they were occasioned by the 
 communication that he had imparted to her. She had, he ima- 
 gined, laughed at his folly, and the laugh had overpowered her, 
 and as she yielded to its influence, which shot forthwith through
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 233 
 
 her fragile frame, it changed its nature, and burthened the heart 
 that it was designed to lighten. And after all, by the revelation 
 of his secret, he had relieved his bosom of a weary tenant ; for not 
 the frog that has been found alive in the heart of a massive stone, 
 where for centuries he has been shut out from light and life, can 
 pant more for freedom, or, as one would imagine, for air, than does 
 that little secret of the heart for a friend's caress. Gratified, then, 
 that he had revealed his secret to Miriam, from whom, notwith- 
 standing what had transpired, he was certain of meeting sym- 
 pathy, Dick fell asleep, and, as a matter of course, dreamt of Alice 
 Fitzwarren. 
 
 Several days passed ; and on each day did Dick visit the medi- 
 ciner's daughter ; but, as she did not refer to it herself, he avoided 
 all allusion to the subject which he had nearest at heart. One 
 afternoon he was engaged in cleaning the windows of Master Fitz- 
 warren's sitting-room. He was sitting on the sill of a window, the 
 exterior of which he was cleaning, when Mistress Alice entered 
 the chamber. She did not observe him, for the window which he 
 was cleaning was in the further angle, and the deep embrasure in 
 which he sat, and the drapery that surrounded it, screened him 
 from observation. These circumstances, however, did not prevent 
 him from observing her, and no sooner was he sensible of her 
 vicinity, and aware, from her manner, that she was unconscious of 
 his surveillance, than the business on which he was employed en- 
 tirely slipped his memory. He had no heart, at that particular 
 moment, for any person or thing but Mistress Alice ; and Mistress 
 Alice, whose motions he was watching so anxiously, was weeping. 
 What obdurate person had caused those tears to flow ? Who, he 
 should like to know, would dare to dim the lustre of those soft 
 blue eyes, which, if he might presume to offer his unbiassed 
 opinion, would make a vernal paradise of a parched wilderness ? 
 
 She was standing in the middle of the room, with her kerchief, 
 which she held with both her hands, raised to her eyes. Her 
 person was tall, yet not too tall, and so exquisitely moulded, and 
 so easy and elegant and light, that one would have sworn that it 
 was the repository of all the sweet virtues of woman. Her neck 
 and shoulders were bare ; and the upper region of her voluptuous 
 bosom, vouching with its transparent whiteness for the purity of 
 her thoughts, peered above her vest. Her dress, in accordance 
 with the prevailing fashion, was made skin-tight, so that, as scarce 
 a muscle could be moved without being observed, the symmetry 
 and exact disposition of her limbs were visible to every eye. Her 
 oval face stamped her an English beauty. There was the expan- 
 sive white forehead, the delicate eye-brow, the large azure eye, 
 the round cheek, 
 
 whose red and white 
 
 Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on,"
 
 234 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 and which colours were so geotly blended, and so skilfully, that it 
 was impossible to tell where the red began or where the white 
 ended. 
 
 Such was the lady on whom Dick had been gazing for several 
 minutes ; yet he gazed not, as one would have supposed, with a 
 mournful eye, but with all the light of his soul, and all its power 
 of expression, all its gushing tenderness and volubility concen- 
 trated in his radiant stare. She was weeping — wasting the waters 
 of love, which, in his opinion, were placed in her heart, not to 
 embitter it, but, as fountains are placed in gardens, only to adorn 
 the scene, and refresh the eye, and cool the temperature. Surely, 
 though he was so incomparably beneath her, there could be no 
 harm in asking what she ailed ; and Heaven could testify that, if 
 she would deign to accept his service, he would traverse the world 
 to do her right. 
 
 " Grace for your servant, lady," he said, as he approached her. 
 " I am bold to speak ; but if you lack my help, and will accept its 
 best, you will find me bold to do." 
 
 " Dickon," cried Mistress Alice, starting round, and suffering a 
 bright blush to spread over her neck and face — " how you have 
 startled me ! — What means this intrusion ?" 
 
 Dick's lips quivered. " 'Twas rude in me to speak, my mistress," 
 he said, " and done without warrant. But, credit me, I intruded 
 not. I was doing there." And he pointed to the window which 
 he had been cleaning. 
 
 " And you pleased to play the spy on my motions, did you ?" 
 
 " Heaven forefend, lady !" said Dick, looking downwards. 
 
 " Wherefore, then, did you accost me?" 
 
 " I inquired what troubled you," replied Dick. " If it be aught 
 that I can remedy, and you will advise me thereof, I am ready to 
 peril life in your behoof." 
 
 "I know you are, Dickon," said Mistress Alice, blushing. 
 " You had ever the heart and hand to serve me; but my present 
 distress, which is great indeed, passes your ability." 
 
 " May I question its nature?" asked Dick. 
 
 " I will tell it you," replied Mistress Alice. " My father, whom 
 I love before all the world, has just told me that he would I were 
 married." 
 
 " Married !" echoed Dick. 
 
 " Ay," returned Mistress Alice. " Why, what ails you, 
 Dickon ? — How your lips tremble ! — how pale you have turned !" 
 
 " I hope you will be happy, gentle mistress," said Dick. " By'r 
 Lady," he added, " I am neglecting the windows." And he 
 turned away, and stepped towards the window, more to hide his 
 emotion than from any desire to resume his labours. 
 
 " Stop, Dick," cried Mistress Alice. " You are ill, I ween. 
 What ails you ?" 
 
 " Nothing, lady," returned Dick.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 235 
 
 " No, you have your natural colour now," rejoined the other ; 
 " but when I said I was to be married, you were pale enow." 
 
 " I was thinking, mistress, how ill I should fare when you were 
 gone," said Dick. " 'Twere hard times for me, then ; and I might 
 seek my fortune in foreign parts." 
 
 " Was that all you thought ?" said Mistress Alice, in a tone ap- 
 proaching to petulance. " Have not you the curiosity to ask my 
 suitor's name and degree?" 
 
 " Such question were unseemly in rae, lady," returned Dick. 
 
 " What if I tell you, then ?" 
 
 " I should be proudful," replied Dick. 
 
 "Well," said Mistress Alice, "for the matter of that, he is 
 bonny enow, and young and wealthy, and of an honest stock !" 
 
 " Certes," sighed Dick. 
 
 "Ay," continued the other; "and, as I doubt not, of good 
 parts and courage ; but — but " 
 
 " What, mistress?'' 
 
 " I will none of him !" said Mistress Alice. 
 
 And, as she spoke, she turned away, and quitted the room. 
 Dick stood gazing after her for a moment, and then, with a pro- 
 found sigh, proceeded to the window, and resumed his avocations.
 
 236 TIIF, LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER II.— THE RECESS. 
 
 WHEREIN A BEAU OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY IS INTRODUCED 
 TO THE reader's NOTICE, AND SHEWS, AT HIS FIRST APPEAR- 
 ANCE ON THIS STAGE, HOW COXCOMBRY CAN PERVERT AN 
 HONEST HEART. 
 
 Master John Cottle, which was the designation of the person 
 who aspired to the hand of Mistress Alice Fitzwarren, and who, 
 as set forth in the preceding cliapter, was countenanced in his as- 
 piration by the young lady's father, was eager to avail himself of 
 the advantages which such countenance, when brought to bear on 
 the scruples of a spinster of the dangerous age of twenty-two 
 years, was likely to afford him. Accordingly, on the morning 
 after the subject had been revealed to Mistress Alice, he prepared 
 to urge matters forward with becoming speed. 
 
 Master John Cottle, however, was a beau, and as it requires, 
 even on ordinary occasions, some time and skill to decorate the 
 person of one of his order, he was unable to expedite the business 
 with the velocity which he had anticipated. But when he had at 
 length acquitted himself of his onerous toilet ; when he had lavished 
 infallible cosmetics on his face, oleose oblations on his head, and 
 fragrant perfumes on his person — when he had done all this, and, 
 with the help of a faithful mirror, which on such occasions he 
 always consulted, satisfied himself of his perfection, the pleasing 
 conviction that he was too exquisite to be rejected by any young 
 lady of taste straightway occurred to him. Whatever were his 
 personal charms — and they were above mediocrity — he certainly 
 spared no pains to render them conspicuous ; for in an age in 
 which all classes were so extravagantly attired that an act of 
 parliament was passed to regulate the dresses of the difterent 
 orders of society, he attracted the notice and admiration of the 
 public by the immoderate costliness of his apparel. His hood 
 was of light-blue silk, figured with gold, and bordered with a 
 chaste gold chain. His hanselines, which were made skin-tight, 
 were of a green colour^ and were tied over his yellow hose with 
 links of gold. His crackowes shoes, the peaks of which were of
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 237 
 
 the utmost length that the act of parliament allowed, were at- 
 tached to his knees by a chain of silver (for the nobility only were 
 suffered to use gold); and his embroidered jerkin of murrey, 
 collared with fur, and shoulder cloak of cream-coloured cloth, be- 
 spoke him the wealthy irresistible of the fourteenth century. 
 
 Thus attired, and holding, by the tips of two of his fingers, a 
 gold-headed cane. Master Cottle approached Dame Grammont, 
 who was scouring the steps of her master's door, and accosted her 
 thus : — 
 
 '< Woman — dame — haw !" 
 
 " Haw, says the fool," muttered Dame Grammont, who had 
 heard only the last word of Master Cottle's salutation. 
 
 " The woman's distract," said Master Cottle ; and in the hope 
 that he might still be able to make her comprehend his meaning, 
 which he thought was palpable to the meanest intellect, he in- 
 clined his head to her ear, and repeated, " Haw !" 
 
 " Have a care," bawled the dame, " for ' a soft answer turns away 
 wrath.' " 
 
 Albeit that he was amazed at the incorrigible stupidity of the 
 old woman, who seemed ignorant of the meaning of the com- 
 monest phrases, Master Cottle nevertheless resolved to make one 
 further effort to enlighten her understanding. Accordingly, with- 
 out the slightest wish to give offence, he again bent his head to 
 her ear, and cried, " Haw !" 
 
 " Take that for your pains,"' vociferated the dame, raising her 
 scrubbing brush, and drawing it ruthlessly over his face. " ' One 
 good turn deserves another.' " 
 
 Master Cottle, more terrified at this proceeding than he would 
 have been at a naked rapier, sprang into the middle of the street, 
 down which, though his crackowes shoes were not formed for 
 running, he was meditating a hasty retreat, when Master Fitz- 
 warren, who had witnessed his misadventure from the window, 
 called on him to return. He heard the summons, and as he turned 
 round, and beheld Master Fitzwarren, he expressed his satisfaction 
 by pronouncing the word " Haw!" 
 
 " Out on thee !" screamed Dame Grammont, as she descended 
 
 the steps with the raised scrubbing-brush. " ' A wilful dog ' " 
 
 " Stop I" cried Master Fitzwarren, seizing her uplifted arm. 
 " This gentle speaks you well enow. Get you in, you old hag, 
 and improve your manners." 
 
 Though the dame, as she was not yet convinced of the civility 
 of the beau's exclamation, was disposed to continue hostilities, 
 she was withheld by a fear of provoking the further displea- 
 sure of her master, and she therefore contented herself with mut- 
 tering, in answer to the last words of the latter, that "manners 
 made the man ;" and then, taking up her pail and scrubbing-brush, 
 retreated into the house.
 
 238 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " I hope," said Master Fitzwarren, as he grasped the hand of 
 the latter person, " you have chanced on no hurt.'' 
 
 " Haw I" exclaimed the beau, " a little damage and disfigure- 
 ment to my visage. Howbeit, if you will lead me to a mirror, I 
 can repair my hurts in less than an hour." 
 
 " An hour !" cried Master Fitzwarren, who never expended 
 more than a few minutes on his toilet : " will you require so long 
 a time ? Well, even so." 
 
 And, as he ceased speaking, he led the beau into a chamber 
 which contained the essential article of furniture, and thence, 
 when he had restored his complexion to its original beauty, con- 
 ducted him to the presence of Mistress Alice. Before, however, 
 the chronicler describes the reception which was vouchsafed to the 
 beau by his mistress, who had hitherto seen him once only, it is 
 necessary that certain circumstances which transpired previous to 
 his arrival be fully detailed. 
 
 As Dick Whittington, on the morning in question, was descend- 
 ing from his garret, whither he had retired for a few moments to 
 muse on his prospects, he was led by an involuntary impulse into 
 the chamber in which, on the preceding afternoon, the last deadly 
 blow had been dealt at his hopes of felicity. It was a poor con- 
 solation — but it was still consolatory — to go and mark the spot, 
 recall the words, and think over the many heart-stin-ing hopes and 
 melodious aspirations that were there silenced ; and if it were 
 painful — nay, if it cut him to the core, and wrung his writhing 
 heart till it became dead to feeling, it were still nothing more 
 than an antepast of that bitter and venomous draught which he 
 must drink to the bottom. Accordingly, in a mood which ren- 
 dered him indifferent to consequences, he pushed open the door. 
 He passed on, without looking round to see if there were any 
 inmates, and stopped not till he reached the centre of the 
 chamber. 
 
 " This is the spot," he said, aloud — " the exact spot. I marked 
 it too well to mistake ; and, God knows, for me to mistake were 
 very sin." 
 
 "Why, Dickon," cried a voice behind him, "what is this? 
 Art raving, that thou talkest about marking spots, when no spot is 
 here?'' 
 
 Dick, as he was thus addressed, turned round to the speaker, 
 tvho was no other than Mistress Alice ; but though a few mo- 
 ments previous he was wishing for an interview with that young 
 lady, in the expectation that she would let fall some particulars 
 concerning her suitor, he was now so embarrassed that he was 
 unable to speak. 
 
 " What makes you here, Dick ?" asked the young lady. 
 " Why," she continued, " he stares at the floor as though he had 
 lost his wits."
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 239 
 
 " Wits !" echoed Uick, " I have none to lose, mistress. I 
 think, in sooth, I am beside myself, for I know not wherefore I 
 intruded here." 
 
 " And, in sooth," cried Mistress Alice, " here is my father's 
 foot on the stair. By'r Lady, I would not, though I know not 
 why, that he found you here." 
 Dick stepped towards the door. 
 
 " Nay," said Mistress Alice, whose face and neck were over- 
 spread with blushes, " there you will run on him. Here," she 
 continued, as she caught him by the arm Avith her left hand, and 
 pointed to the further end of the room with the other, " hide 
 behind the tapestry." 
 
 Dick sprang to the tapestry, which partitioned a recess from the 
 main chamber, and had scarce ensconced himself behind it, and 
 lapped it over as it usually stood, when he heard Master Fitz- 
 warren without. 
 
 " Alice," said Master Fitzwarren, "sit you down; for I have 
 matter of moment to discuss with you." 
 
 " You will find me a dutiful auditor, sir," replied Mistress Alice, 
 sitting down. 
 
 *' You remember, of course, what I advised you of yesterday," 
 said her father. " But why do I ask ? Every young maid remem- 
 bers, as your blushes certify you do, aught that relates to her pro- 
 spects of marriage." 
 
 Mistress Alice was silent. 
 
 " And yet,'' i-esumed Master Fitzwarren, " you seem not to 
 entertain this speculation, which I have set my whole heart on, 
 with the passion it deserves." 
 
 " You say you have set your whole heart on it, sir," replied 
 Mistress Alice. " Surely, dear father, you would not that I were 
 really married to Master Cottle?' 
 
 " And why not ?" demanded the other. 
 
 " Oh, sir," returned Mistress xAlice, " he is deemed the daintiest 
 beau in the whole city. He is the very perfection of your dandies 
 — the idol of your barbers, and his head their block." 
 
 " This jesting is out of place," rejoined Master Fitzwarren. 
 " You know I am no spendthrift of my time, nor am I a coxcomb 
 or a buffoon." 
 
 " Wherefore, sir," said Mistress Alice, " I marvel you should 
 commend a coxcomb to me.'' 
 
 " No more of this," returned Master Fitzwarren. " I am your 
 father, mistress — your guardian and guide ; and therefore, by 
 your leave, know best whom to commend, and whom to condemn. 
 To be plain with you, too, I have special reasons for your wedding 
 Master Cottle." 
 
 " Oh, dear, dear father!" supplicated Mistress Alice, clinging to 
 his arm. 
 
 " Peace !" said Master Fitzwan-en, with visible emotion. " If
 
 240 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 you refuse Master Cottle, who has come in to save us from ruin, 
 we may go beg. Compose yourself, for he will be here in half-an- 
 hour ; and then, Alice, you must remember your duty." 
 
 Master Fitzwarren caught up his daughter's hand, and having 
 released his arm from her clasp, and again exhorted her to com- 
 pose herself, retired from the room. Alice fancied, as he closed 
 the door after him, that she heard the key turned in the lock ; and 
 this security, since it would cut off Dick's retreat, filled her bosom 
 with new fears. She hastened to examine the door, and found 
 that it was indeed locked. 
 
 '• What will I do ?" she exclaimed, wringing her hands. 
 There was a noise on the stairs, occasioned, as she learned after- 
 wards, by the arrival of Master Cottle. Then she heard her 
 father's voice, then a voice that she thought was Dame Gram- 
 mont's, and then, after a moment's interval, she heard some one 
 exclaim, " Haw 1" 
 
 " There's a foreigner among them, mistress,' said Dick, who had 
 crept from his covert, and who, being unacquainted with the idiom 
 of beaux, did not know that Master Cottle's interjection was per- 
 fectly vernacular. 
 
 " Hie you to the recess again," whispered Mistress Alice. 
 " They will be on us straight." 
 
 Mistress Alice, however, was mistaken. Nearly half-an-hour, 
 which he spent in decorating his person anew, elapsed before the 
 beau entered. He was accompanied by jMaster Fitzwarren, who, 
 however, did not remain ; but having introduced her suitor to 
 Mistress Alice, and signalized the latter to remember his injunc- 
 tion, left them together. 
 
 The beau, who was of that happy disposition which accords 
 itself to any circumstances, and which has the peculiar quality of 
 making its proprietor feel perfectly felicitous and at home wher- 
 ever he may be located, unfolded to Mistress Alice the particulars 
 of his encounter with Dame Grammont, which encounter, he said, 
 if any person but himself had been the sufferer, he should have 
 considered a most celestial exhibition. (And here, in parenthesis, 
 it may be observed, that instead of using ordinary adjectives, 
 which he discarded as wanting in expression, it was Master Cottle's 
 custom to qualify his nouns with words which entirely destroyed 
 their sense ; and though he was a faithful son of the catholic 
 church, he preferred swearing by such worn-out deities as Venus 
 and Bacchus to the respectable and comparatively juvenile divi- 
 nities of the catholic calendar.) Having, however, given a droll 
 account of his adventure with Dame Grammont, who, he said, was 
 the she-dragon that guarded the enchanted castle of Mistress Alice, 
 he entered into a discussion on the several merits of divers articles 
 of haberdashery, inviting particular attention to the harmony and 
 variety of his own attire, and having thus, as he thought, dis- 
 played the versatility of his genius, and prepared her heart for the
 
 s;.iS«^;;' 
 
 J^/,/ ..//./. /%>/^.a/ /^v' ,X/v////^ z///^- ^^/^//^^ ^^^^
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 241 
 
 advent of a more sublime discourse, he began a speech which he 
 was in the habit of reciting to every female, young or old, to whom 
 he was disposed to make himself particularly amiable. 
 
 " Most adorable princess !" he said, " art thou not content with 
 robbing me of my repose at night, by thrusting thy beauteous form 
 into my bed-chamber, but must thou also, queen of the graces " 
 
 " Oh, sir," said Mistress Alice, " prithee spare me !" 
 
 " Spare thee, thou cruel angel !" remonstrated Master Cottle, 
 indignantly, " why should I spare thee, thou obdurate paragon ? 
 Hast thou spared me these tedious years that I have been wooina: 
 thee ?" 
 
 " You have but just began your wooing, sir," replied Mistress 
 Alice, " and, in sooth, I wish it was ended." 
 
 But Master Cottle was too well acquainted with human nature, 
 as he frequently boasted, to believe anything that was uttered by 
 a woman ; and as for the conversion of minutes into years, which 
 was the trifling anachronism that Mistress Alice had found fault 
 with — why, being a lover, he had as much licence in that way as a 
 poet. " No," he thought, " this paragon of truth likes my speech 
 well ; but she must needs play on me with her modesty, and gainsay 
 what she would fain avow." 
 
 '' Angelic vision of enchantment !" he resumed, " I, thy knight- 
 errant, who have carried thy fame into far lands, and conquered 
 
 at tourneys under the inspiration of thy divinity 1 fancied," he 
 
 said, pausing abruptly, " I heard some one cough.'' 
 
 " Of a surety, sir, you were mistaken," said Mistress Alice, 
 anxiously. *' Prithee continue thy speech." 
 
 " HaM' !" cried Master Cottle, smiling. " You confess, then ? 
 You shall have it entire, I promise you ; but we will first make cer- 
 tain that we are alone,' 
 
 " We are, sir, I assure you," stammered Mistress Alice, blushing. 
 *' Nay, now, will not you continue your speech ?" 
 
 " Rest, rest, thou celestial goddess !" said Master Cottle. " I 
 am certain some one coughed behind yonder tapestry. Let me 
 examine it," he added, moving towards the spot where Dick had 
 hidden himself. 
 
 *' No, you shall not !" cried Mistress Alice, detaining him. 
 
 Though exceedingly flattered that Mistress Alice should be so 
 anxious to hear the continuation of his speech, and convinced, by 
 her asseveration to that effect, that there was no other person 
 within hearing, Master Cottle nevertheless persisted in his purpose 
 of examining the tapestry ; for he believed that, notwithstanding 
 her playful opposition. Mistress Alice, at heart, wished him to do 
 so. He accordingly broke from her hold, and dashing forwards to 
 the tapestry, drew it hastily aside. Mistress Alice screamed ; but 
 straightway, as she cast a hurried glance at the exposed recess, 
 recovered her composure, for she perceived that Dick Whittington 
 was not there. 
 
 R
 
 242 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 *' HaM' !" exclaimed Master Cottle, terrified at the scream of his 
 mistress. " What ails thee, thou potent despot, thou beauty of 
 the Euphrates ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing, sir," rejoined the young lady, " nothing at all. 
 I would thank you, though, to continue what you were saying, and 
 it like you." 
 
 " Bid me go to Muscovy's cold clime,'' said the enthusiastic 
 Master Cottle, " or to thy native Indian shores, or wheresoe'er 
 thou listest, so that the emprise be a desperate one." 
 
 "And would you do so much for me, sir?" asked Mistress 
 Alice, smiling. 
 
 <' Dost doubt me?" returned the indignant beau. "Bid me 
 only to bring thee flowers from Paradise." 
 
 " Nay," rejoined Mistress Alice, " I will not send thee on so 
 long a journey. Howbeit, to test thy sincerity, I require thee to 
 travel straightway as far as thine own abode, and not to visit me 
 again for three days." 
 
 " Haw !" cried the beau, taken aback. " Good, i' faith ! Rich, 
 by Venus and Cupid !" And he protested, by all the divinities in 
 the Pantheon, that he would much rather post to her native Indian 
 shores, or, at the least, to Muscovy's cold clime. Mistress Alice, 
 however, persisted, and as he had sworn allegiance, Master Cottle 
 was obliged to obey. He accordingly departed ; and on his way 
 down the stairs encountered Master Fitzwarren, who, observing 
 the cloud of discontent that sat on his brow, anxiously inquired 
 how he had fared. 
 
 " Haw !" replied Master Cottle, " indifferently well. I have 
 wounded her, I fear." 
 
 " Wounded her !" cried Master Fitzwarren. " Where, prithee ?'' 
 
 " In her heart, to be sure," returned the beau. 
 
 " Villain !" said Master Fitzwarren, " and dost thou avow it to 
 my face ?" 
 
 " Nay, nay," replied the beau, "hands off! I spoke by figure, 
 not by letter. In sooth, I have wounded her, but only with words, 
 not steel." 
 
 " Pardon a doting father," cried Master Fitzwarren, grasping 
 his hand. " I must be distract.. — But farewell, gallant sir !" 
 
 " Farewell I" said Master Cottle, who had by this time reached 
 the street-door, " Farewell ! adieu I good-bye I ta — ta I" he con- 
 tinued, as he shook Master Fitzwarren's hand, and descended to 
 the street. 
 
 Master Fitzwarren gazed after him for a few moments, and 
 then, with a deep sigh, retired into the house. He ascended the 
 staircase, and proceeded to the sitting-chamber, where, as he had 
 expected, he found his daughter. She appeared to be confused by 
 his entrance, and hastily quitting the recess, which, for some mo- 
 ments previous, she had been subjecting to a strict scrutiny, ad- 
 vanced to meet him.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 243 
 
 "My darling child I" said Master Fitzwarren, embracing her, 
 " how am I to thank thee for thy dutiful behaviour in this matter ?" 
 
 " Oh, dear father I" sobbed Mistress Alice. 
 
 " Ay, sweetheart," said Master Fitzwarren, leading her to a 
 seat, " thou wilt save thy poor old sire from ruin, and prop his old 
 age with an honest independence." 
 
 " How mean you, sir ?" 
 
 " Why, child," returned Master Fitzwarren, " thou'lt wed this 
 generous man, who is in such a canaries about you, and rescue 
 me from disgrace and a jail?" 
 
 " Is it even so, father?" asked Mistress Alice. 
 
 " Ay," replied her father. " The old Baron of Arkton, before 
 he died, left in my hands a round sum of monies, which he bade 
 me put to my advantage, paying him usury therefor. I have 
 hitherto paid this usury to the lawful heir of the Bai'on, one 
 Master Henry Sinclair, a cavalier, who is engaged in the wars. 
 Lately, however. Sir Alfred Sinclair, who has usurped the family 
 honours and estates, discovered the deed which certified my hold- 
 ing thereof, and partly from motives of avarice, and partly in 
 revenge for the protection I afforded his brother, has come upon 
 me for the principal and use from its first lending." 
 
 " But this would scarce ruin you, father?" 
 
 " No," said Master Fitzwarren. " If my brave argosies were 
 moored beside my wharf, instead of being at the mercy of the seas, 
 'twould be but a cramp to my speculations ; but now, when all my 
 wealth is at hazard, and my bravest argosy — the Unicorn, most 
 likely wrecked, 'twill be my certain ruin." 
 
 " How, then, can my marriage assist you ?" asked Mistress 
 Alice. 
 
 " I have discovered the circumstances to Master Cottle," re- 
 plied her father, " and he is willing to become a partner in all the 
 ventures I have at sea. To convince him of my integrity, though 
 he questioned it not, I proposed he should have your hand ; and 
 if, now that he has agreed, you refuse to accept him, he may 
 haply consider our contract null." 
 
 " You speak sooth, dear father," sighed Mistress Alice. " But 
 is the peril so very imminent ?" 
 
 " Even so," returned Master Fitzwarren. 
 
 " 'Twere undutiful in me to cry you nay, then," sobbed Mistress 
 Alice. " But, dear — dear father, think how sudden this matter 
 has been opened to me. Think how simple and timorous my poor 
 heart is by nature. Give me a chance of escape, father — one 
 chance!" 
 
 "My darling !" exclaimed Master Fitzwarren. 
 
 " And, father," continued Mistress Alice, " I will pledge myself, 
 if none of your argosies arrive before four months from this day, 
 to give my hand to the generous Master Cottle ; and he, I should 
 think, can ask no more."
 
 244 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " Nor can I," said Master Fitzwarren. " Kiss me, my child ! — 
 Thou art my child indeed !" 
 
 Alice threw herself into his arms, and wept on his bosom, and 
 as Master Fitzwarren pressed her to his heart, the dignity and 
 calculating pride of the merchant was subdued by the affection of 
 the father. He repented that he had pressed the marriage on her 
 so abruptly, besought her to retract her pledge, from which he 
 would willingly exonerate her, and, thougli tlie marriage would 
 rejoice his heart, take time to consider calmly the expedience of 
 so important a step. But Mistress Alice remained firm; and, 
 assuring him that she felt pleasure in anticipating his wishes, 
 retired from the chamber. 
 
 Master Fitzwarren paced the room for some time, with his arms 
 crossed behind his back, and his eyes bent on the floor. It grieved 
 him that his daughter's acquiescence to his scheme, though duti- 
 fully given, was wrung from her by the difficulties of his own 
 situation, and not rendered from any feeling in favour of Master 
 Cottle, who, though amiable, (which was strange enough) was 
 nothing more than a coxcomb. If he had lived in more modern 
 times, when every hobby developes inconsistent features. Master 
 Fitzwai'ren would scarce have wondered at a union of coxcombry 
 with amiability, for even among politicians there are instances of 
 such a union ; but he lived in a darker age, and he therefore 
 meditated for some time on the paradox which his friend's good 
 and evil qualities seemed to compose. At length, however, he 
 was interrupted by Dame Grammont, who informed him that a 
 cavalier, name and business unknown, desired an audience. Master 
 Fitzwarren directed her to introduce the visitor; and the next 
 moment Sir Alfred Sinclair presented himself. 
 
 " Good morrow to your merchantship," he said, as he stepped 
 within the threshold. " How fare your argosies to-day?' 
 
 " My Lord Baron," replied the merchant, "■ I thank you for 
 your question. Howbeit, to speak to your purpose, the monies 
 which you claim shall soon be yours." 
 
 "This soon," said Sir Alfred, "is not the phrase of a stable 
 merchant. What specific period doth it imply?" 
 
 " The monies shall be counted to you to-morrow," returned 
 Master Fitzwarren : — " now, indeed, if you list." 
 
 " How is this ?" rejoined Sir Alfred, with evident surprise. 
 " Is this the end, then, of your tale of inconveniences?" 
 
 " Ho, ho, my Lord !" said the merchant, " you thought to have 
 me at a push, did you? — Well, you see, I have prepared me." 
 
 " This shall not serve me, Fitzwarren," replied Sir Alfred. 
 " Either reveal the present hiding of my brother, or take on thy- 
 self the consequence." 
 
 "I take the consequence," rejoined the merchant, firmly; "for 
 if I were sworn, of which there is little fear, I know not where 
 your brother now is."
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 245 
 
 " Well, then," said Sir Alfred, " knowing me to be the Baron 
 of Arkton, and holding monies belonging to rae, you have never 
 advertised rae thereof. For this dishonesty, be assured, I will 
 have you punished, and — which will be of more consequence to 
 your reputation — exposed." 
 
 " That I defy you to," said a third voice. 
 
 Both Sir Alfred and Master Fitzwarren, as the last speaker 
 uttered this defiance, turned hastily round, and beheld the Jew 
 mediciner standing on the threshold. 
 
 " My good and worthy friend !" exclaimed Master Fitzwarren, 
 extending his hand to the mediciner. 
 
 " Thou damned Jew !" cried Sir Alfred, " dost thou again 
 thrust thyself across my path ?" 
 
 " Sir," said the mediciner, folding his arms across his breast, 
 and bowing his head to his waist, '' or, if you like the title better, 
 my Lord, I watched you on your road hither, and knowing Master 
 Fitzwarren's arrangements, I hastened to bring you the monies 
 which you came after. Master Cottle," he continued, turning to 
 the door. 
 
 "Haw I" cried a person without. 
 
 " Have the monies brought in," said the mediciner. 
 
 " Haw I" replied the person outside ; and, turning to a porter 
 who accompanied him, continued : " Ascend, you celestial rap- 
 scaliian, and bear your burthen hitherwards." 
 
 Followed by a porter, who bore in his hand two sealed bags, 
 Master Cottle entered the chamber ; and, having dropped a gra- 
 cious nod to the merchant and the mediciner, saluted Sir Alfred 
 with a bow, which he afterwards designated angelic. 
 
 " Now," he cried to his porter, when the latter had laid the bags 
 on the table, "take thyself off — retreat — budge — fly I" 
 
 The porter, accordingly, departed forthwith. 
 
 " Haw !" exclaimed Master Cottle, evidently pleased at the 
 porter's obedience, " a tractable wolf enough, yon fellow." 
 
 " You seem disposed, Fitzwarren," said Sir Alfred Sinclair, 
 " to make a mockery of my threats. But beware, beware, Sir 
 Merchant !" 
 
 " There are your monies, my Lord Baron," returned the 
 merchant; " I will count them over to you." 
 
 Accordingly, breaking the seals of the bags. Master Fitzwarren 
 emptied their contents on the table, and counted it. He then 
 drew out a receipt, which was attested by the mediciner and 
 Master Cottle, and presented it to Sir Alfred for the subscription 
 of his mark. 
 
 " Here it is," said Sir Alfred, as he affixed his mark to the re- 
 ceipt, and threw it to Master Fitzwarren. " And now, sir, let my 
 man, who waits below, bear this money aw-ay." 
 
 He called the person whom he had specified, and Rowland 
 White, who was noticed in the early chapters of this history, an-
 
 246 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 swered the summons ; and, in compliance with his order, bore 
 away the money. Sir Alfred then rose, and glancing fiercely at 
 the mediciner, turned away from the table. 
 
 " Beware I" he said, as he crossed the threshold. 
 
 " And beware you !" said the mediciner. 
 
 " Haw !" cried Master Cottle. And, when Sir Alfred was out 
 of hearing, he declared that in his opinion that cavalier was no 
 better than a captivating curmudgeon ; but then, thanks to our 
 Lady, the mediciner was a droll sage. 
 
 I 
 
 i
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 247 
 
 CHAPTER III THE KISS. 
 
 IN WHICH A YOUNG LADY KISSES DICK WHITTINGTON. 
 
 Dick, when directed a second time to conceal himself behind the 
 tapestry, began to reflect that, as all hope of retreat seemed to be 
 cut off, the recess might prove a less secure hiding-place than he 
 and Mistress Alice had anticipated. Revolving in his mind the 
 consequences of discovery, and the serious imputation to which 
 such a casualty would expose his mistress, it occurred to him, as 
 it might under similar circumstances to any chivalrous spirit, that 
 if he were willing to run the trifling hazard of a broken neck, 
 which was an inconvenience that no sterling lover would take into 
 consideration, he might yet escape by emerging from the window. 
 The window, or rather, casement, of which he thus proposed to 
 avail himself, looked out on the roof of the kitchen, which was 
 about fourteen feet beneath it. It was divided down the centre, 
 and opened on hinges, so that, fortunately for his purpose, he was 
 able to open it without noise. He took off" his coat, and tied the 
 cuff" of one of the sleeves round a hinge of the casement ; and 
 then, rising softly to the window seat, and pushing himself over, 
 he caught hold of that sleeve of his coat which he had suff"ered to 
 hang down. Hence, as his feet were little more than four feet 
 from the kitchen roof, he intended to have dropped himself, but 
 the sleeve of his jerkin, which was old and worn, gave way, and he 
 fell unprepared. 
 
 Apprehensive that the noise occasioned by his fall Avould be 
 heard in the kitchen, and that the inmate? would thereupon sally 
 forth, he crept along to the end of the building, and thence, with- 
 out once looking round, sprang into the dust-hole. Before the 
 cloud of dust to which his descent gave rise had dispersed, or the 
 active Dame Williams, whom he heard approaching, arrived to 
 ascertain the origin of the said cloud, he had clambered over the 
 parapet, and reached the garden. Here he found refuge in a
 
 248 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 shrubbery, whence, after he had satisfied himself that the coast 
 was clear of spies, he contrived to reach the summit of the gar- 
 den wall. He then dropped into the street, and having considered 
 a moment what he should do next, and whither he should repair, 
 started for the residence of Master Simon. Leaving him at the 
 lodgings of that worthy citizen, by whose spouse his jerkin was 
 restored to its original entirety, this history will return to Mistress 
 Alice Fitz warren. 
 
 On quitting the presence of her father, and retiring to her own 
 chamber, the firmness that had hitherto supported her gave way, 
 and Mistress Alice, as she mused on the probability of her being 
 wedded to Master Cottle, was so overcome with grief that she 
 wept. She endeavoured to persuade herself, with that incompre- 
 hensible hypocrisy that characterizes the infancy of love, that her 
 heart was as yet disengaged, and that her sole objection to Master 
 Cottle was his ridiculous coxcombry. This objection, perhaps 
 correctly, she considered sufficient, and though there was some- 
 thing whispered her that it was not the fundamental one, and she 
 took great pains to convince herself that it was, she did not ven- 
 ture to institute that rigid scrutiny of the heart which the preg- 
 nant importance of the subject unquestionably demanded. Per- 
 haps, indeed, she would on reflection have been more venturous, 
 but all at once, and when she was deep in the speculations speci- 
 fied, some recollection of Dick Whittington intruded itself, and 
 then, naturally enough, she became anxious to ascertain how he 
 had escaped from the recess. Accordingly, composing herself as 
 she best might, she descended to the kitchen, from which, as she 
 approached, sounds issued that were significant of commotion. 
 She quickened her pace, and as she reached the kitchen door, and 
 pushed it open, perceived that Dame Williams and Dick — which 
 latter had returned only a moment previous — were at war. 
 
 " How is this, dame ?" asked Mistress Alice, angrily. " Fye I 
 fye ! that thou shouldst for ever be railing, and at one, too, who 
 is so diligent in his duties." 
 
 "Diligent, mistress!" cried the incensed dame. " Why, he's 
 done not a hand's turn here to-day. He's but just come in, for- 
 sooth." 
 
 " And may not I send him whither I please, then ?" demanded 
 Mistress Alice, who saw how the matter stood, and that, however 
 he had escaped, none was aware how Dick had passed the morn- 
 ing. " Peace, woman ! he has been doing in my service.'' 
 
 Mistress Alice looked at Dick. Her eyes met his, which were 
 bent vacantly on her face, and though his stare brought a blush 
 to her check, and even a cloud of displeasure, he did not avert 
 his gaze. Mistress Alice, confused at his apparent abstraction, 
 turned hastily away, and quitted the kitchen. 
 
 Endued with a comprehensive mind, which, even when left to 
 the tuition of nature, is always proud and sensitive, and which he
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 249 
 
 had improved by every means in his power, Dick could not but 
 entertain a due sense of his degraded situation, and of the hope- 
 lessness — the idle folly, of the deep and all-absorbing passion that 
 had wormed its way into the core of his heart. Often, at mid- 
 night, when he pressed both his hands on his throbbing forehead, 
 and weighed his head down on his hard pillow — as though, in this 
 wild ecstasy, he would crush the thoughts that perplexed his 
 weary brain — the apparition of his mistress, now wearing a smile 
 and then a frown, now assuming the green sweetness of girlhood 
 and anon the ripe beauty of muliebrity — the apparition of his 
 mistress, thus changing, would rise before his mind's eye, and the 
 maddening thought would strike him, as lightning strikes a vernal 
 tree, that that fair and beautiful being was beyond his aspiration. 
 " Who, then," he would ask himself, " is to win and wear her ?" 
 He longed to see the presumptuous person who aspired to such 
 fruition ; and fortune, which favours the bold, threw him in his 
 way. 
 
 He had been spending the evening with Master Simon, and, as 
 he returned to his master's house, his thoughts, as usual, turned 
 on Mistress Alice, and he became so abstracted that he walked 
 past his home. It began to rain, and he involuntarily turned for 
 shelter under a dark archway, which opened into a narrow court. 
 He had not been here long, and, with that quick variation of pur- 
 pose which is characteristic of the lover, was preparing to forsake 
 its shelter, when a second person planted himself at the entrance. 
 Scarcely had the new-comer, who did not observe Dick, thus in- 
 troduced himself, when a tall man with a plumed bonnet, wearing 
 the short shoulder-cloak of the day, entered the archway, and 
 jostled purposely against him. 
 
 "Haw! ahaw !" cried the lirst comer. "What mean you by 
 this discourtesy, old buUyraan ?" 
 
 " What meanest thou, churl ?" replied tlie other, menacingly. 
 
 '< Churl, noble knight !" returned the lirst speaker. " Callest 
 thou me a cluirl? — I, the pride and delight of the proud and de- 
 lightful bachelors of the city? I, a churl? VvHiy, sir, I'm a very 
 king. I'm Master John Cottle, sir." 
 
 " Thou'rt a buzzard," said the other, with a sneer. 
 
 " And what art thou ?" asked Master Cottle, in a firm tone. 
 *' Thou'rt Sir Alfred Sinclair, I trow ; and a most heavenly villain 
 to boot." 
 
 " Hound I" cried Sir Alfred, drawing his rapier. 
 
 " Hound, am II" cried Master Cottle. " Haw!" and dashing 
 out into the street, and drawing his rapier, he awaited the onset of 
 Sir Alfred. 
 
 Sir Alfred was evidently the best swordsman of the two, and 
 notwithstanding the cool courage of Master Cottle, who had never 
 been known to give way to passion, was getting the advantage, 
 when Dick Whittington, who had been closely watching the com-
 
 250 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 bat, struck him on the head with his bat. He fell straightway, 
 and Master Cottle, who was at that moment executing the allonge, 
 passed his rapier within an inch of his side. The clash of the 
 weapons had drawn several of the denizens to the windows of the 
 adjacent houses, and window after window was thrown open, and 
 appeals made by the inmates to the prowess of the watch, but still 
 Master Cottle shewed no disposition to retreat. On the contrary, 
 grasping Dick's arm with his right hand, he gave way to a loud 
 and lengthy burst of laughter, and declared, when he had re- 
 covered his breath, that the whole proceeding was most lament- 
 able sport. Dick remonstrated; and begged of him, as a party 
 of the watch were now heard approaching, to make a hasty re- 
 treat, but he still remained firm. When, however, the watch 
 were close at hand, and Dick determined to make off alone, 
 Master Cottle suddenly pushed forward, but stopped, every two 
 or three yards, to inflict an energetic rap on the doors of the ad- 
 jacent houses. 
 
 " This will never do," cried Dick, as they reached the end of 
 the street. " You see, sir, the watch have stopped round Sir 
 Alfred, who is only stunned ; and when they discover his rank 
 the pursuit will be hot." 
 
 " Ahaw!" muttered Master Cottle, musingly, " Give way, 
 then, my heart, and look to thine own safety ; for, by cock and 
 pye, I would suffer death or any other punishment rather than 
 miss this grievous fun." 
 
 The watchmen were scarcely a hundred yards behind ; and as 
 Master Cottle thus delivered himself, and prepared to mount a 
 sign-post which stood before him, and which he benevolently pro- 
 posed to disencumber of its sign, they started in pursuit. Dick, 
 seeing that he would otherwise be captured, determined to leave 
 Master Cottle to himself, and to provide for his own safety by an 
 instant retreat. 
 
 Accordingly, while Master Cottle was climbing the sign-post 
 aforementioned, Dick turned the angle of the street, and pushed 
 forwards. He had not, however, proceeded twenty yards, which 
 brought him to the end of this street, when he discovered that 
 there was no thoroughfare. His first impulse was to turn back, 
 but the cry of the watch, warning him of their immediate vicinity, 
 convinced him that his retreat would be intercepted. The street 
 that he was in was terminated by an iron railing, which inclosed 
 the garden of an adjacent mansion, whose proprietor, as might be 
 inferred from its isolated situation, was most likely a retired mer- 
 chant or courtier ; and Dick, after deliberating for a moment, 
 determined to attempt an escalade. 
 
 He had just attained the summit of the railing when his pur- 
 suers came in sight. At this critical moment, as a loud halloo 
 assured him that he was discovered, one of the rails caught in his 
 hose, and he was a full minute before he could disengage himself.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 251 
 
 This accident elicited another shout from his pursuers, who, when 
 he leaped down into the garden, were only a few yards behind 
 him. 
 
 He pushed through a small shrubbery, which was planted im- 
 mediately within the railing, and entered a broad walk leading to 
 the residence. A large elm-tree grew before the house, and so 
 close thereto that its foliage almost touched one of the casements, 
 which casement, by some unaccountable oversight, the inmates 
 had neglected to shut. Dick detected this circumstance at a 
 glance, and straightway mounting the tree, and creeping along the 
 branch which led in that direction, he entered the open casement. 
 As he closed the casement after him, and cast an anxious look 
 towards the garden railing, he perceived that the watchmen were 
 climbing the rails. 
 
 It was so dark that Dick could not discover the character of the 
 apartment into which he had so unceremoniously introduced himself; 
 but as he crept along by the wall, and found by his touch that it 
 was wainscoted with polished wood, he inferred that he was in the 
 bedchamber of some person of consequence. At this moment, 
 while he hesitated how to proceed, the notes of a dulcimer struck 
 on his ear, and a female voice gave utterance to these words : — 
 
 •' Bring flowers, ho ! from every clime; 
 
 Bring roses, asphodel ! 
 The bloom that decks them in their prime 
 
 Jane's blushes do excel. 
 Bring costly gems from richest mine 
 
 That look like light congeal'd ; 
 Jane's bosom is a brighter shrine 
 
 Than mines have yet reveal'd. 
 
 " The ruby's heart, whence seems to drip 
 
 Illuminated blood, 
 Can scarcely rival Jane's sweet lip, 
 
 Whose kisses light its flood. 
 And if the earth have any charms 
 
 With heaven to compare. 
 They now repose in Jane's fair arms, 
 
 For heaven, sure, is there." 
 
 The music ceased ; and Dick continued groping on, and pausing 
 at every step to listen, till he encountered the handle of a door, 
 which he forthwith opened. He now entered a small closet, 
 which, as he suspected from the dresses that hung around, was 
 occupied by the wardrobe of a lady of rank. As he drew back 
 the door, and placed his ear at the keyhole to listen, he heard foot- 
 steps approaching, and while he was deliberating whether he should 
 remain or issue forth, and wishing himself in any but the precise 
 situation that he filled, a lady and her attendant entered the outer 
 chamber. 
 
 " What noise is that in the garden, Mary ?" asked the lady.
 
 252 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 « I will inquire, Lady Alice," replied the attendant, retiring for 
 that purpose. 
 
 Lady Alice de Windsor, by which title Dame Alice Ferrers was 
 now known, walked up to a large mirror, which stood at her 
 toilet. Time had made but slight inroads on her lovely person. 
 To say that she was still beautiful would be saying but little ; for 
 her clear complexion, her dazzling eyes, her small mouth, her 
 dimpled cheek, her exquisite figure, which had so often inspired 
 the heart of the warrior and the lyre of the poet, were altogether 
 unimpaired, and, though she was now in the forty-sixth year of her 
 age, a stranger, beholding her for the first time, would have sup- 
 posed that she had but just attained her meridian. Dick, as she 
 walked up to the mirror, pushed open the door of his covert, and 
 when he beheld the outline of her elegant person, which the tight 
 dress tlien worn exhibited to advantage, he could scarcely repress 
 an exclamation of surprise. He did not, however, commit such an 
 indiscretion, but stole forth from the wardrobe, and glided to the 
 chamber door. He had just reached the door, and was turning 
 the key in the lock, wlien Lady Alice, M'ho had observed his 
 shadow in the mirror, suddenly turned round. If Dick had at 
 that moment been struck with paralysis he could not have been 
 more still. 
 
 There was not a solitary muscle in that lady's face that qui- 
 vered. The same proud spirit that had subdued a king, that had 
 ruled a nation, that had defied a senate, that had sneered at the 
 threatened axe — the same proud spirit, the same high resolve, the 
 same unbending and inflexible purpose, which no circumstances 
 could alter or relax, swelled in her bosom, and beamed in her eye. 
 She took up a taper from the table, and walking hastily but firmly 
 towards him, held it down to Dick's face,. and scrutinized his 
 every feature. 
 
 " There is none of the rufliian here," she said, '' nor of the thief. 
 Speak, sirrah ; what brought you hither?" 
 
 " Lady,'' replied Dick, in an under tone, " dost recollect a cer- 
 tain cavalier of Leaden Hall — one Master Henry ?" 
 
 A sudden flush spread over the lady's face ; her lips trembled, 
 and for a moment her breath seemed suspended. 
 
 " Ay," she said, at length ; and it appeared as though all the 
 breath that she had arrested were emitted in that word ay. 
 
 " I am sought by the watch," continued Dick. " They have 
 beset the house, and if you surrender me I am undone." 
 
 " Enough," replied Lady Alice. <' Consider thyself safe." 
 
 There was a pause, for the noise below had increased, and both 
 Lady Alice and Dick were afraid of being surprised by the servant. 
 At length, after an interval of a few moments, they heard the ser- 
 vant's step on the stair, and placing her white, taper finger on her 
 lovely lips, to signify to Dick that he was to maintain a strict 
 silence. Lady Alice opened the door. She did not, however, sally
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 253 
 
 forth, but stood on the threshold, holding the door with her left 
 hand. 
 
 " Wherefore is this noise?' asked the lady. 
 
 " 'Tis caused by the watch, my lady," replied the servant. 
 " They aver that a murtherer is hidden in the garden." 
 
 <' A murtherer I" cried Lady Alice. " No, no, it cannot be ; 
 but whether or not, hussey, how dare they intrude here ?" 
 
 " Lady," replied the servant, " I think, though one Sir Alfred 
 Sinclair, as he bespeaks himself, wills them otherwise, my Lord 
 Walter will persuade them to retire." 
 
 " Go, hussey," said Lady Alice ; " commend me to my lord, 
 and tell him, as he would do me a devoir, to drive off this rude 
 route. I require you no more to-night." 
 
 Lady Alice stepped back, and, nodding an acknowledgment of her 
 servant's humble obeisance, closed her chamber door. 
 
 '' You have now no time to lose,' she said to Dick. She 
 paused, and looked inquiringly in his face, as though, unques- 
 tionable as their security might be, the inquiry which she would 
 make could not be spoken. Dick, however, did not comprehend 
 her ; but cast down his eyes, and looked confused. 
 
 " You understand me not,'' whispered Lady Alice. " He is 
 dead, is he ?" 
 
 " No, lady," replied Dick, perplexed ; " he lives.'' 
 
 " The Jew lied, then ?" said Lady Alice. " He lied, did he ? 
 I knew it — I knew he lied. 'Twas a cruel, wilful, graceless, dam- 
 nable lie I But let it pass ; I'm wedded now." 
 
 '* Where would you have me go, lady ?" asked Dick, after a 
 moment's pause. 
 
 " Aha!" cried Lady Alice, "are they still without? Well, 
 never mind, I will provide thee an outlet. You said, I think, you 
 came from Master Henry?' 
 
 " No, lady, I said not so," replied Dick. " I mentioned his 
 name when you first questioned me, because, some years ago, you 
 sent me on a mission to him." 
 
 " Ah I" said Lady Alice. " You are the boy, then, from whom 
 the mediciner obtained my ring, and who betrayed to him my 
 errand ?" 
 
 " I betrayed you not, lady," replied Dick. 
 
 " But he wormed it from you, though," returned Lady Alice. 
 " Nay, no apologies, for you have little time to spare. This 
 way, sir." 
 
 Lady Alice opened the chamber door, and then stepped hastily 
 back ; for Lord Walter de Windsor, her husband, stood on the 
 threshold. 
 
 " You look amazed, sir," she said to him. " Does this young 
 gallant, in his old and tattered jerkin, look like a favoured lover of 
 your wife ?" 
 
 " Your pardon, Lady Alice,'' replied Lord Walter de Windsor.
 
 254 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 « His abrupt appearance, as you must own, was like to amaze a 
 husband." 
 
 " True, my lord," returned Lady Alice. *' But he is the per- 
 son whom the watch are in quest of, and no lover. How he came 
 here I know not, nor do I reck. But see him safe forth, my lord ; 
 for he is a friend of the Jew mediciner, and I would be chanced 
 on no harm," 
 
 Lord Walter bowed ; and bidding Dick follow him, descended 
 to the street-door, which opened on the other side of the house to 
 that by which Dick had entered. 
 
 As soon as Dick reached the street he bent his steps towards 
 Cornhill. The clock of St. Michael, Cornhill, as he attained the 
 entrance of the church-yard, chimed the quarter past midnight ; 
 and this abrupt and sententious breach of the solemn stillness, and 
 a reluctance, to which few of his contemporaries were proof, to 
 intrude at that hour on the resting-place of the dead, awakened 
 feelings that he was unable to repress. At this moment the moon 
 burst from a dense black cloud, by which, for several hours pre- 
 vious, it had been completely obscured. There was an old tradi- 
 tion, that he was well acquainted with, connected with St. 
 Michael's church, and as he entered the church-yard it flashed 
 across his mind. Two men, it was said, were sitting, one mid- 
 night, in the belfry, where they had been sent to toll the knell for 
 a departing soul, when, instead of performing this solemn duty, 
 they resolved to amuse themselves with dice. They had not, how- 
 ever, been engaged thus many minutes, during which both of them 
 uttered divers blasphemous oaths and imprecations, before they 
 quan-elled, when, as they threw down the dice, and stood up to 
 fight, the devil flew in between them. He made a grasp at one 
 of them, but as both the men crossed themselves, and called aloud 
 on the patron saint of the church, who was naturally off'ended at 
 the devil's officious interference, his claws only caught the stone 
 wall of the belfry, in which wall, even so late as the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, Stow says that he saw their impressure ! 
 
 Dick cast a timorous look at the towering belfry. It had just 
 caught the silver light of the moon, and the old black tower, 
 whose venerable top was blackened with the smoke of the sur- 
 rounding city, looked pale and hoary. The roof of the church, 
 and the body and buttresses, were still in deep shade, and threw a 
 dark shadow over the adjacent ground ; and this disposition of 
 the moonlight, at all times solemn, imparted an unearthly aspect 
 to the silver-tipped tombstones, which, as their white crests plumed 
 themselves with the moon's rays, looked like so many grisly spec- 
 tres. He fancied, as he reached the centre of the church-yard, 
 that he heard a rustling noise, and he stopped abruptly. 
 
 Dick's heart was as bold and nervous as that of a lion. He 
 was still, however, open to the ideal terrors which, when they 
 once gain headway, relax the nerves of the strongest mind. Never-
 

 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 255 
 
 theless, if the first shock palsied] his heart — if fear straightened his 
 hair, and forced the cold sweat in huge drops through his brow — he 
 was the next moment fired with desperate and unnatural resolu- 
 tion. He did not murmur a prayer — he did not even breathe, but 
 stared, with his eyes starting from his sockets, at one of the but- 
 tresses of the church. After standing thus for a full minute, and, 
 notwithstanding that he liad drawn in the muscles of his ears, 
 that he might catch the slightest sound, being still unable to dis- 
 tinguish any object, he sprang to the spot that he had so closely 
 scrutinized. 
 
 " Who art thou ?" said a voice, which Dick knew well. 
 
 " What, Master Simon I" cried Dick, "and you, too. Sir Medi- 
 cinerl Why, gentles, what brings you hither?" 
 
 "What brings you?" asked the mediciner and Master Simon 
 together. 
 
 " Just this," rejoined Dick ; and he related, without reserve, 
 how he had passed the night. 
 
 " And we," said the mediciner, when Dick had finished his 
 narration, " have been waiting this hour past for one who pro- 
 mised to meet us here. Howbeit, as I think he will scarce ven- 
 ture here now, we will tarry no longer." 
 
 Accordingly, quitting the umbrage of the buttress, they moved 
 on out of the churchyard. 
 
 " I know not where T can lodge me to-night/"' observed Dick, 
 as they passed up Leadenhall-street, " since by this hour my 
 master's people must have sought their chambers." 
 
 " Even so," replied the mediciner ; " and therefore, my son, 
 thou must home Avith me." 
 
 Dick agreed, and they pushed on to Aldgate, which was now 
 closed. Master Simon, however, was acquainted with the warder, 
 and, at his request, that functionary suffered Dick and the medi- 
 ciner to pass through. 
 
 Miriam was anxiously awaiting her father's coming, and when, 
 on admitting him, she perceived that he was accompanied by 
 Dick, whom she had not seen for several days, her dark eyes 
 sparkled with delight. Her father, however, desired her to retire, 
 which she did straightway. 
 
 " You must make the best of these cushions, my son," said the 
 mediciner, " and cover yourself over with these cloaks. There be 
 worse beds," 
 
 " I have a worse every night, father," replied Dick. 
 
 " 'Tis clear to me," said the mediciner, musing, " this Sir 
 Alfred Sinclair dogged Master Cottle to-night, thinking to have 
 him at advantage. He is very revengeful, and unscrupulous 
 withal, and will, I am advised, persecute me to the utmost; but 
 this shall never deter me from doing right." 
 
 " I think not," said Dick. 
 
 " And in the morning," resumed the mediciner, " if he dare to
 
 256 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 pursue this matter further, I will shew him as much." And as he 
 ceased speaking, he quitted the room ; and Dick disposed himself 
 for sleep. 
 
 He slept soundly ; and the twilight of a February morning, which 
 called the dark-eyed Miriam from her couch, had no effect on his 
 sealed eyelids. Miriam, on entering the chamber, found him still 
 asleep ; and she stole on tip-toe to where he lay. Every nerve in 
 her body trembled, and the blood forsook her cheek and lips, as, 
 drawing down the cloak that covered his head, she peered into his 
 vacant face. That face which, when the spirit was awake, was 
 wont to beam with expression, was now without aline of thought — 
 so near is sleep to death. She bent her head over him. Her 
 breath, though she endeavoured to restrain it, escaped on to his 
 forehead, and her lips almost absorbed it again. Surely, it could 
 not be sin to look at that white forehead, or to breathe on it, or 
 even to kiss it — and she kissed it accordingly. 
 
 Dick instantly awoke ; but unconscious of the favour that had 
 been impressed on his forehead, thought only that Miriam had 
 come to waken him. 
 
 " Good morrow, fair mistress," he said ; " and thank you for 
 your care." 
 
 Miriam, as he sprang to his feet, gave him her hand, and he 
 raised it to his lips, and kissed it.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 257 
 
 CHAPTER IV THE SHRIFT. 
 
 MISTRESS CLARISSA MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE, IN WHOSE 
 COMPANY, AS OF YORE, SHE ENCOUNTERS MISHAP. 
 
 Woman's love, generally, is as unchanging as heaven ; for though 
 cynics may abuse, and pseudo-philosophers libel her, constancy is 
 as natural in woman as light in the sun. Yet are there some 
 women, as there are many men, whose dispositions are too selfish 
 to receive the soft irapressure of passion ; and they sink in their 
 unhallowed graves without severing one tie save that of mortality. 
 It was far otherwise, however, with Clarissa Haywood. Reared 
 in a convent, where she had availed herself of every opportunity 
 of acquiring knowledge, her gentle spirit had been refined by 
 education ; and when her feelings had attained their full strength, 
 and had burst forth from the recesses to which they had originally 
 been confined, they united in one limpid and vigorous stream, 
 which poured its sweeping tide over her youthful heart. Master 
 Henry was her mind's sun ; and her tender recollections of him 
 were flowers which that sun had endued with vitality. She had 
 no thought, no hope, no element, but love ; and but for the robust- 
 ness of her constitution, which neither peril nor privation affected, 
 the difficulties in which this resistless passion was continually 
 entangling her must soon have torn her heart in twain. 
 
 For more than seven tedious years she had been content to 
 forego all pleasure save that which she derived from her attend- 
 ance on Master Henry. She had cheerfully undergone peril, had 
 attended him in the several sallies of the garrison, had watched 
 over him when he slept, and sang merry lays to him when her own 
 heart was sad. And yet, all this time, she knew that he loved 
 another, and that she had no prospect in life but one scene of 
 misery. 
 
 One day, as she was waiting on Master Henry in his chamber, 
 
 s
 
 258 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Hubert Cromwell introduced himself, and asked the cavalier if he 
 wished to purchase a hawk. 
 
 " There is a falconer without, sir," he said, " who has a couple 
 to sell." 
 
 " Bring him and his birds hither, good Hubert," said Master 
 Henrj^ 
 
 Hubert retired, and a moment afterwards returned, followed by 
 a gaunt man in the habit of a falconer. 
 
 " A million of good morrows to your worship," said the 
 falconer, bowing to Master Henry. " Here are your thorough 
 falcons, your worship," he continued, as he held out his right arm, 
 to which two hawks were secured by a silken leash — " who, I will 
 warrant you, have never had the frounce, and, with proper care, 
 never will have it. These be none of your sparrow-hawks, sir, or 
 your buzzards, but, what are rare enow, your downright gos- 
 hawks." 
 
 " They are fine birds, i'faith," returned Master Henry. <^ What 
 think you, Hal?" he added, turning to Clarissa. 
 
 Clarissa blushed, and turned her head the other way. " They 
 are very fine birds, sir," she faltered. 
 
 " I believe you, young master," observed the gaunt falconer, 
 who had been subjecting Clarissa's face to a close scrutiny ; " and, 
 d'ye see, sir, they sport their own feathers. Thei'e's no borrowed 
 plumage here, I trow." 
 
 " No," said Clarissa, turning pale, " there is none indeed, for 
 they need no disguise. But the poor sparrow, when pressed to 
 death, might find safety in the cast-ofi" feathers of the hawk." 
 
 " To be sure,'' observed the falconer, "to be sure, sir; and I'm 
 not the fowler to snare a hunted bird. — But will you buy, sir?" 
 he asked of Master Henry. "Will you make purchases? Will 
 you deal for my commodities ?" 
 
 " I have no one to 'tend them," said Master Henry, " till I 
 reach England, whither, I think, I will shortly be going." 
 
 " W^ell, your worship," returned the falconer, " I will 'tend 
 them. I will be your falconer, your servitor, your bird-keeper, 
 your master of the aviary. I am for home, your worship ; for 
 merry old England, as Dr. Catchpenny says. You shall have the 
 birds for three pieces, your worship." 
 
 " And you will have a care of them?" 
 
 " Even so, your worship." 
 
 The birds were purchased ; and Hubert Cromwell was directed 
 to assign the falconer a fitting lodging. Being certain that the 
 falconer, who was no other than our old friend of the Tower 
 Royal, had recognised her, and anxious to learn whether he 
 intended to divulge her secret, Clarissa obtained leave of absence 
 from Master Henry, and sallied out in quest of him. She en- 
 countered him at the door of Master Henry's lodging, and, 
 having whispered him to follow her, she led the way into the town.
 
 DICK VVHITTINGTON. 259 
 
 She passed out of the citadel, followed at a short distance by 
 the falconer, and entered a long, narrow, dirty street, which led to 
 the other end of the town. Hence they passed into a by-street, 
 where the houses, of which the upper floors projected over the 
 causeway, were so close,^that if they were so minded the inmates 
 of opposite attics might shake hands across the street. Here they 
 entered an hostel, which was dignified by the sign of the John de 
 Viefine, and were led into a back room by the proprietor, who, 
 though a surly, crabbed-looking Frenchman, saluted them civilly 
 in English. 
 
 " Time has worn furrows in your cheek," said the falconer to 
 Clarissa, when, on the retreat of the landlord, they were left 
 together in a low, dark room — " and dimmed the brightness of 
 your eye; but I could never forget your features." 
 
 " You do remember me, then ?" faltered Clarissa. 
 
 " Remember thee I" exclaimed the falconer. " Dost think I 
 forget that awful night — that night which nearly tui-ned the 
 tables of fate, and almost proved the learned Dr. Catchpenny a 
 visionary?" 
 
 " If 1 remember truly," said Clarissa, " you told me that night 
 of a certain prediction ?" 
 
 " Ay, ay," sighed the falconer ; " and though, to be sure, 'twas 
 comfortable enough for the nonce, 'tis a heavy load on my mind 
 just now." And the falconer groaned. 
 
 *' How did you escape drowning ?" asked Clarissa. 
 
 " Why," rejoined the falconer, " as fate would have it, though 
 every one else was to be drowned, I was to be reserved for the 
 hangman; and so, when the galliot broke up, I was helped to a 
 stout beam, which bore me safe ashore. T was weary enow, but 
 when I found myself on the strand, I bethought me that I might 
 have a shorter life than I had expected ; for though the English 
 held possession of Calais, morning would bring down to the beach 
 a lot of French fishers, and they might hang me forthwith. So, 
 divining from the marshy soil that I was near to Calais, I started 
 straightway, and as fate would have it, reached it in safety. Since 
 then, I have wandered about, sometimes with the army, and some- 
 times visiting the garrison here. — But how did you escape?" 
 
 Clarissa replied by relating the perils which she had undergone. 
 
 " Poor lass 1" said the falconer, " thou knowest not whither thy 
 vagary of sporting men's apparel would lead thee. Now, I know 
 somewhat of thy history, and swear to keep good faith ; thou mayst 
 advertise me wherefore thou gainsay est thy sex." 
 
 " Wouldst thou, good falconer, torture a broken heart ?" 
 
 " Me?" said the falconer. " By cock and pye, now, thou dost 
 me egregious wrong ! I would rather, in sooth, the learned 
 Doctor Catchpenny claimed me to-morrow — nay, this very minute, 
 than I would hurt thee, poor wench !" 
 
 " Then," replied Clarissa, « I would trust thee ; but oh, sir 1
 
 260 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 the secret is the only rivet that holds my broken heart together, 
 and were I once to loosen it, though with never so tender a hand, 
 I were lost for ever." 
 
 " Humph I" cried the falconer, " I might guess near the mark 
 from the breadth of thy speech, because, about seven years agone, 
 1 had a fellow to your rivet (as you call it) hammered round my 
 own heart. A gentle cook — forgive my sigh — was in a canaries 
 about me, and shewed me gracious favour. If I dare avow it, in 
 sooth, 'tis the remembrance of her exquisite skill in cookery, and 
 a disgust of the frogs and soups of these chattering Frenchmen, 
 that seduces me back to happy England." 
 
 " Diable /" muttered a third voice. 
 
 " Who spoke ?" demanded Clarissa and the falconer together. 
 
 They examined the room, which, as the twilight had com- 
 menced, was now very dark, but they could see no one. 
 
 " We have been beguiled by overwrought fancy," said the 
 falconer, as he resumed his seat, and drank off a goblet of wine. 
 " This same wine," he added, " though small enow, is the mother 
 of fancy, wherefore I have ever made her a mother to me." 
 
 "Hold!" whispered Clarissa. "Hast thou ever heard how 
 these Frenchmen, when they can do it safely, waylay and murther 
 stragglers from the garrison ?" 
 
 " Ay," replied the falconer. 
 
 " And didst not note how our host welcomed us in English?" 
 asked Clarissa. " My word for it, brave sir, he has been listening 
 to our converse. That noise we heard was not a trick of fancy." 
 
 The falconer elevated his brows, and looked grave. 
 
 " Be ready with thy rapier," said Clarissa. " I will try the 
 door." 
 
 Accordingly, as the falconer drew forth his rapier, Clarissa 
 crossed on tip-toe to the door, and cautiously lifted the latch. 
 The door, however, was locked on the outside. 
 
 " As I expected," she whispered. 
 
 The falconer shook his head, and then, looking steadfastly in 
 her face, caught up Clarissa's hand, and pressed it in his own. 
 
 " If they hang me not," he whispered, thinking that his gaolers 
 could not conveniently raise a gibbet, " there is stout hope." 
 
 " Try the chimney," said Clarissa. 
 
 The chimney was capacious, having been constructed, as were 
 most hostelry chimneys, to hold two seats within its range, and 
 could be converted into a more pleasant thoroughfare than builders 
 of modern chimneys would suppose. 
 
 " Thou hadst best ascend first," said the falconer ; " and I will 
 stand sentry below." 
 
 Clarissa nodded assent. They heard the sound of voices, arti- 
 culating with the vehemence peculiar, not exactly to Frenchmen, 
 but to the people of the continent, in the adjoining room; but 
 though both of them placed their ears to the wall, and listened
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 261 
 
 Avitli suppressed breath, tliey could not distinguish a word that 
 was uttered. Clarissa raised her small feet to the grate, and with 
 the help of the falconer, whose altitude enabled him to reach 
 much higher than she, ascended several feet up the chimney. At 
 this moment, however, a mass of soot, which her raised hand had 
 loosened, fell on to her head, and almost smothered her. She 
 was, consequently, obliged to descend, and as she reached the 
 floor, and shook the dust from her face and cap, she heard the 
 door of the apartment unlocked. 
 
 The voices in the next room were still audible, and the land- 
 lord, who now presented himself, had entered to reconnoitre. But 
 Clarissa, on hearing the key turned without, had stolen behind the 
 door; and when it was opened, and the landlord had entered, 
 she slammed it to. The falconer, at the same moment, drew his 
 rapier, and seized the landlord by the collar. He opened his 
 mouth, as though he were about to call for assistance ; but the 
 falconer, placing the point of his rapier close to his breast, 
 whispered him that the slightest exclamation would cost him his 
 life. 
 
 " Now then !" said Clarissa, in an under tone, " we must im- 
 prison his tongue." 
 
 She drew off a sash which was wound round her waist, and, 
 having trebled its folds, tied it over the mouth of the trembling 
 Frenchman, and effectually gagged him. The falconer wore a 
 similar sash, wiiich he bade her take off, and with this Clarissa 
 bound the Frenchman's hands and feet, and then, having divested 
 him of that symbol of his vocation, secured him with his own 
 apron to the massive table. 
 
 The persons whom they heard conversing in the next room, and 
 who were awaiting the return of the landlord, had now, as was 
 evident from the increased vehemence of their articulation, become 
 impatient ; and therefore both Clarissa and the falconer, as they 
 were not aware of the strength or position of their adversaries, 
 thought that the chimney would afford a safer outlet than the 
 door. This last, accordingly, Clarissa locked ; and, cautiously 
 withdrawing it from the lock, placed the key within her vest. 
 
 " Use dispatch," whispered the falconer ; " for the foe will be 
 on us straight." 
 
 Clarissa stepped on to the grate ; and assisted by the falconer, 
 who raised her in his arms, ascended several steps up the chimney. 
 The chimney became more narrovt' as she proceeded, but though 
 it was not originally designed for a thoroughfare, and therefore 
 sufficiently incommodious, the artists who had been in the habit 
 of cleansing it had made several steps in the sides ; and by the 
 help of these steps Clarissa contrived to ascend. She was closely 
 followed by the falconer, who, whenever she needed such assist- 
 ance, held up her feet with his brawny hands. In this manner
 
 262 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 they proceeded till, about half-way up, they paused where the 
 chimney of the next house joined that which they were ascending. 
 
 A loud noise, like the forcing of a door, which assured them 
 that the situation of the landlord would soon be discovered by his 
 friends, now alarmed them ; and as they had no doubt but that 
 steps would be taken to intercept their retreat, and that, there- 
 fore, escape from the roof would be impracticable, they resolved 
 to descend the other chimney. Accordingly, having satisfied 
 themselves that there was no fire in the grate below, they crept 
 over the partition, and commenced the descent. Clarissa's foot, 
 however, slipped ; and had not the falconer, who had just bent 
 over her to peer down the chimney, caught her by the collar of 
 the jacket, she would probably have broken her neck. This acci- 
 dent made her more cautious, and as the falconer, who had per- 
 haps entered and departed from other houses by a similar road, 
 was very expert in his movements, and ready at need to second 
 her exertions, she at length reached the bottom in safety. 
 
 It happened that the apartment to which they descended was 
 tenanted by a buxom widow, who, being a good catholic, was at 
 this precise moment confessing her sins to a jovial priest. Instead, 
 however, of being on her own knees, she had adopted the more 
 comfortable form of sitting on the knee of the priest, who protested 
 that, though novel, this was quite as agreeable to the church as 
 the other and primitive custom. So intent was the widow on 
 clearing accounts with the church, and so eager was the church 
 to exact payment for and calculate the several items, that though 
 Clarissa and the falconer had not descended the chimney without 
 noise, neither penitent nor priest had heard anything to awaken 
 apprehension ; but when, as he was imprinting the kiss of absolu- 
 lution on the widow's lips, the priest espied the sooty legs of 
 Clarissa dangling from the chimney, which the corner of his eye 
 had just included in its prospect, he relaxed the caress which he 
 had thrown round the widow's neck, and, under the impression 
 that the intruder was no less a person than the fiend king himself, 
 trembled in every joint. 
 
 " What ails thee, good father?" demanded the widow, as she 
 observed this sudden alteration in the priest's demeanour. 
 
 The priest could not speak — he could not even move. His 
 eyes were fixed on the mouth of the chimney, whence, as she fol- 
 lowed the direction of his eyes, the widow perceived two sooty 
 figures protruding themselves. Instantly reciprocating his terror, 
 and not doubting but that the intruders were agents of the devil, 
 the widow clung more closely to the priest, whose gown, she be- 
 lieved, would protect both her and himself from satanic assaults. 
 
 " Sancte Johannes Baptista /'' stammered the priest, at length, 
 as he endeavoured to release himself from the widow's desperate 
 embrace.
 
 % 
 
 y///: m'i/.AteU<fu<) ^i/iAei'tyi^r'fu''^' 
 
 .:^yyMe^ .^A.^y?vcA Mtdmtlt r/u-m //yy
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 263 
 
 Neither Clarissa nor the falconer, both of whom had now gained 
 the floor of the chamber, could forbear laughing at the conster- 
 nation of the lovers ; and these latter, palsied and conscience- 
 stricken, imputed their mirth to demoniacal exultation. The 
 sooty fugitives, however, soon relieved them of their terrors by 
 making for the door. This, as she had no mind to be interrupted, 
 the cautious widow had previously locked, and Clarissa, having 
 extracted the key, and retreated to the exterior with the falconer, 
 locked it on the outside. They then descended the stairs, whence, 
 without interruption, they groped their way along a dark passage, 
 which led them to the street-door. They hastily lifted the latch, 
 and, as they perceived that the street was clear, passed out, and 
 halted not till they had reached the citadel.
 
 264 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER v.— THE ARREST. 
 
 IN WHICH ONE OF DICK's FRIENDS IS COMMITTED TO DURANCE ; 
 AND ANOTHER, OF WHOM HE WAS ONE OF THE GUARDIANS, 
 DISAPPEARS, 
 
 On the evening of the day on which Miriam had kissed Dick's 
 forehead, so soon as he could emancipate himself from the dominion 
 of Dame Williams, Dick again visited the mediciner. He was 
 admitted by Miriam, who forthwith led him to the upper chamber, 
 in which, though that person seemed to be unconscious of his 
 vicinity, he encountered the mediciner. Dick perceived that he 
 was in a brown study, and therefore he did not intrude any salu- 
 tation, but, taking up a tome which lay on the table, sat down by 
 the door. 
 
 " Dick," said the mediciner, suddenly starting up-, " you were 
 before the mayor to-day ?" 
 
 " Ay, father," replied Dick ; " and marvelled much I saw not 
 you. I was an evidence, you know, for Master Cottle, who was 
 last night captured by the watch." 
 
 " That I know," replied the mediciner. " How fared you ?" 
 <' Sir Alfred Sinclair came not to the court," answered Dick; 
 " and so the warrant was cancelled." 
 
 " I marvel the knight was not there," muttered the Jew. 
 " 'Twas certified in court," said Dick, " that he had gone to lay 
 information against a practiser of art magic ; but the mayor, hav- 
 ing heard my testimony, said Master Cottle stood acquitted ; 
 therefore he would detain him no longer." 
 *' And so the matter ended ?" 
 " Even so, father.'' 
 
 At this moment there was a loud knocking at the street-door. 
 " Who is this knocks in such haste," asked the mediciner. 
 Miriam hastened to the door, and before Dick, who rose to fol- 
 low her, had reached the top of the stairs, admitted a veiled lady, 
 whoui she straightway led to the upper chamber. Dick, fearful of 
 intruding, was meditating a retreat, but the lady, apparently anti-
 
 DICK VVHITTINGTON. 265 
 
 cipating his purpose, beckoned him back. She then drew off her 
 veil, and disclosed the features of Lady Alice de Windsor. 
 
 " I dare to say," she began, as the mediciner, who had risen 
 from his seat on her entrance, crossed his arras over his breast, and 
 bent his head forward. — " I dare to say, Sir Mediciner, you dis- 
 remember this pallid face ?" 
 
 '' Lady, no," replied the Jew. 
 
 " Oh, do not you forget?" asked Lady Alice, bitterly. " You 
 know me, then, for Alice Ferrers ?" 
 
 " I know you, gracious lady, for Alice de Windsor," said the 
 other. 
 
 " Ay ; and who made me de Windsor ?" demanded Lady 
 Alice. '« Who told me the vile lie that, if thou wert a Christian, 
 would irretrievably damn thee, and being, as thou art, a dog of a 
 Jew, and therefore damned already, will heap on thee punishment 
 manifold ?" 
 
 A bright flush spread over the Jew's cheeks ; but it instantly 
 vanished, and he spoke not a word. 
 
 " Man of cunning," said Lady Alice, " thou hast overreached 
 thyself. Thou, a deviser of policies, a crafty and heartless Jew, 
 who hast mystery on thy lips, and deceit in thy heart, shalt see thy 
 grand schemes laid there, where I have trodden princes. I have 
 served thee — oft and oft ; and thou, in requital, hast told me lies — 
 perjured thyself, blasted thy name, and destroyed my peace." 
 
 Lady Alice sank down on a cushion ; and drawing a kerchief 
 from her vest, and raising it with both her hands to her eyes, 
 burst into tears. 
 
 There was a pause of several minutes. Except Lady Alice, 
 whose sobs broke the silence, scarce one of the party ventured to 
 breathe. The mediciner, however, was watching for a favourable 
 moment to speak. He well knew, from long experience of her 
 temper, that if left to itself the passion of Lady Alice would soon 
 subside, but if opposed, either by deprecation or contradiction, it 
 would become more violent. He restrained himself, therefore, till 
 Lady Alice again addressed him. 
 
 " Wherefore, Sir Jew," she said, at length, " didst thou palm so 
 cruel a deceit on one who trusted thee ? Can no tie secure thy 
 faith to a Christian ?" 
 
 " Lady," replied the Jew, bowing his head to his breast, " dost 
 thou recollect a certain cavalier, hight Henry Sinclair, who served 
 with the Black Prince ? I know thou dost ; and wouldst tell me, 
 as of this other one, that thou didst love him ?" 
 
 " Never," said Lady Alice de Windsor. " He, of all the court, 
 was the only one that paid me no homage ; and as he was the 
 bonniest of all, and among the bravest, I desired more to be ad- 
 mired by him than by all the others. I flattered him, I smiled on 
 him ; and I confess, when he was proof to these temptations, I felt 
 a woman's pique, and was more anxious for the reduction of his
 
 266 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 virtue than I ought to have been. Howbeit, he was invincible ; 
 and as thou knowest, and my conscience now tells me, I cruelly 
 revenged myself." 
 
 " And was it meet, Lady, that the son of this cavalier should 
 ever love thee ?" 
 
 " His son, sir?" 
 
 " Ay, lady," said the Jew, " his son, The young cavalier of 
 Leaden Hall is the son of Sir Henry Sinclair." 
 
 Lady Alice seized Miriam's arm, and bent her head over her 
 shoulder. It was then that, like an electric shock, truth darted 
 through her mind ; it was then that the retrospect of her life, 
 divested of the sunshine and poetry of vice, rose, like night without 
 a star, before her mind's eye ; and it was then — in that moment 
 of blighted hope, of palsied energy, and pregnant sensibility, that 
 the better feelings of her heart, rising from the depths in which 
 they had slept, awakened a spirit of compunction. 
 
 " I have sinned — I have sinned,'' she murmured, after a pause; 
 " and He hath punished me less severely than I deserved." 
 
 She fell, like a dead weight, on the breast of Miriam, who reeled 
 beneath her burthen. The mediciner and Dick, both of whom 
 were touched by her pathetic remorse, rushed to her assistance, 
 and raised her apparently lifeless form from Miriam's arms. She 
 had swooned, but, though Dick thought her condition past hope, 
 the Jew's skill speedily restored her, 
 
 " Let me go, now,'" she said, as she recovered her conscious- 
 ness. " I thank thee, O God !" she continued, rising from the 
 cushion on which she had been seated, " for that Thou hast 
 broken a proud heart, not to fill it with despair, but to turn it on 
 hope and Thee." 
 
 She kissed Miriam's cheek, which was wet with tears ; and 
 then, turning round, grasped the mediciner's hand. 
 
 " Permit me to follow thee home, fair lady,'' said the Jew. 
 
 " I inhibit all attendance," replied Lady Alice. " Farewell — 
 for ever !" 
 
 The Jew still detained her hand. " The God of persecuted 
 Israel," he exclaimed, as a big tear rolled slowly down his cheek, 
 " pardon thee, noble lady ! for if thou hast strayed, as we all have, 
 thou hast yet done great good. May He give thee grace ! — may 
 He bless thee — the loveliest of his creatures !" 
 
 Lady Alice hastily withdrew her hand from the clutch of the 
 Jew, and, rushing from the chamber, descended the stairs to the 
 street-door. Miriam, owing to the excited state of her feelings, 
 was some moments before she could open the door ; but Lady 
 Alice did not once look in her face, or speak a single word, but 
 when the door was at last opened, darted into the street. 
 
 Dick, on Miriam's return, rose to depart. He had intended, 
 previous to visiting the Jew, to call at the residence of Master 
 Simon ; but the scene which he had just witnessed induced a dis-
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 267 
 
 inclination for society, and he returned forthwith to the domicile 
 of his master. 
 
 A few days afterwards, as he was working in the garden, Dick 
 was encountered by Mistress Alice Fitzwarren and Master Cottle. 
 
 " Ahaw !" cried Master Cottle. '* I owe you recompence, my 
 young bachelor." 
 
 " You mistake, your worship," replied Dick, " you owe me 
 nothing." 
 
 " Haw I but I do," replied Master Cottle. " You were my 
 evidence, the other day, before the mayor ; and you have done 
 me good service besides." 
 
 " How, sir ?" asked Mistress Alice, eagerly. 
 
 " He saved my life the other night," replied Master Cottle. 
 And he thereupon related the particulars of his rencontre with Sir 
 Alfred Sinclair. 
 
 " Here," he continued, as he held out a moidore to Dick, " is 
 earnest for thee. I am soon to be a partner in Master Fitz- 
 warren's business ; and then, my young gallant, I will do some- 
 thing for you that will improve your condition." 
 
 Dick coloured to the brow. " I thank your worship," he said, 
 with a low obeisance, " but I cannot accept your gratuity. Never- 
 theless, I feel grateful for your kind notice." 
 
 He looked at Mistress Alice, whose eyes, he thought, were 
 dimmed with tears ; but she instantly averted her head. 
 
 That evening Dick paid a visit to the lodgings of Master Simon 
 Racket. The latter, however, was from home, and Dick pro- 
 ceeded to the house of the mediciner. 
 
 " Hast heard of the strange advices which have reached the 
 city?" asked the mediciner, as Dick entered the chamber. 
 
 " No, father," replied Dick. " What do they import?" 
 
 " Rebellion," said the mediciner. '' This new impost — the poll- 
 tax — hath created general discontent, and I will not marvel if a 
 great commotion ensue." 
 
 " God defend the king and his rights I" muttered Dick. 
 
 "1 cry Amen," said the mediciner; "and certes, as they have 
 no leader, the serfs are like to come off second-best. Only for 
 this parson Ball — a fellow M'ho asserts that all men should be 
 equal, and that there should be neither kings nor peers — rebellion 
 would not dare to raise its head 1" 
 
 Here a loud knocking at the outer door startled the inmates of 
 the mediciner's house. Miriam hastened to the door ; and the 
 next moment Master Simon Racket rushed into the chamber. He 
 had evidently run thither at his full speed. His respiration was 
 sententious ; the perspiration streamed down his face ; and his 
 whole appearance bespoke him the bearer of important tidings. 
 
 " Fly !" he cried to the mediciner. " Fly for your life !" 
 
 " Breathe well, Simon," said the Jew, firmly ; " and then thou'lt 
 be able to deliver thine advices freely."
 
 268 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " There is not time to breathe," cried Master Simon, in broken 
 accents. " If you love life, if yon love her — Miriam — fly straight !" 
 
 " Oh ! my father I" screamed Miriam, throwing herself on the 
 niediciner's bosom. 
 
 " Be sure," cried Dick, " Master Simon speaks on advice. Fly, 
 father, fly !" 
 
 " Sir Alfred Sinclair will be here immediately," pursued Master 
 Simon, recovering his breath. " He brings an officer to attach 
 you for sorcery. Leave Miriam to my charge, and fly for your 
 very life." 
 
 <' I'll not leave my dear father," sobbed Miriam. " I never left 
 him yet ; I never will leave him." 
 
 " Simon," said the mediciner, as he gently raised Miriam from 
 his breast, and placed her on a cushion beside him, " you speak of 
 flight as if 'twere practicable. There is no hope of escape ; and 
 therefore I will wait my caption here." 
 
 " Do not, do not, dearest father," implored Miriam. " Try to 
 escape, I beseech you." 
 
 "Shame, father !" cried Dick. " Is this the way you would 
 meet disaster ? Fly, sir ; fly straight; and I will 'company you." 
 
 " Come, then, my son," said the mediciner; " we will away." 
 
 " Oh ! father ! father !" sobbed Miriam, " must we part thus ? 
 God of Abraham 1 hast thou, too, leagued with the Gentile ?" 
 
 " Darest thou to question the Highest?" said her father, 
 sternly. — " But I commend you to Him, my daughter," he added, 
 in a kind tone. " May He guard you, my sweet child !" 
 
 " Come, come, father," urged Master Simon, in a broken voice. 
 " Leave Miriam to me." 
 
 " I go, my son," said the mediciner, embracing him. 
 
 He sprang down the staii's, followed close by Dick, and hastened 
 to the door. He dashed through the door ; and as the night had 
 now set in, and it was very dark, did not observe four men who 
 stood outside. Scarcely, however, had he crossed the threshold, 
 beside which they stood, when two of them grasped his collar. 
 
 " In the name of the holy father," said one of his assailants, 
 " and by the authority of God and the king, I arrest thee for 
 sorcery." 
 
 " Thou shouldst have put God first, my master," said the 
 mediciner, " the king second, and the pope last." 
 
 " Heed not his blasphemy," cried Sir Alfred Sinclair, who 
 now stepped forwards ; " but bear him whither your warrant 
 directs." 
 
 " Oh, stop ! stop !" screamed Miriam, who, w ith Master Simon, 
 at this moment reached the door. " Stop, sirs ! for the sake of 
 Him whom you w'orship — the lowly Nazarene ! Oh, sir !" she 
 added, throwing herself at the feet of Sir Alfred Sinclair, and 
 clasping his legs with her trembling hands — " have mercy as you 
 will one day ask it ! Spare us, sir ! spare us, 1 beseech you !'
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 269 
 
 " Rise, maiden 1" said Sir Alfred. " I have no power to stay 
 thy sire's arrest." 
 
 " The curse of the persecuted be on you, then I" cried Miriam. 
 " The curse of the broken-hearted, that never yet was crossed — 
 the curse of the motherless, that reaches beyond the grave — the 
 curse of the orphan, that would paralyze an angel, bear you to 
 utter darkness." 
 
 " Away, sirs," shouted Sir Alfred ; and, bursting from Miriam's 
 grasp, he sprang after the men who had the custody of the 
 mediciner. 
 
 " My father! oh, my father 1" screamed Miriam ; and fell back 
 into the arms of Dick. 
 
 Dick and Master Simon carried her into the house, and bore 
 her to the upper chamber. They consoled her, as well as they 
 could, under the severe bereavement which she had sustained ; 
 and Master Simon, as much to Dick's edification as his surprise, 
 poured into her ear that sweet and never-failing consolation which 
 can be found in the Book of Life only. 
 
 " 'Tis not a moment for me to dissent, good Master Simon," 
 sobbed Miriam ; " but, oh I how can we think but hardly of your 
 faith, which you now paint so fair, when the worshippers of this 
 same Jesus persecute us so sorely." 
 
 " Yet He," said Master Simon, scarcely able to restrain the 
 emotion which the remembrance of his Divine Master's sufferings, 
 as well as the distress of Miriam, called into play — " He, my dear 
 Miriam, shed precious blood for us all — Jew and Gentile, Chris- 
 tian and Pagan. He told us to do good to our enemies — God 
 forgive us ! — and not to crucify those who were crucified suffi- 
 cient in w'anting his healing word. So, cheer up, my sweet 
 maiden ! I will be a father to you. Come to my hearth. And 
 for thy father" — here Master Simon's broken speech evinced how 
 deeply he was affected — " we may yet be able to rescue him ; for, 
 as Dick often says, 'perseverance accomplisheth many things.'" 
 
 " You are very good," said Miriam, " and so is Dick — very, 
 very good. But I will not leave this house. Master Simon. I 
 will not desert the roof of my father." 
 
 Both her friends endeavoured to persuade her to accept the 
 hospitality which Master Simon had proffered, but in vain ; and 
 therefore, when they saw that her spirits had become more com- 
 posed, and had assured her fortitude by all the consolation which 
 the religion of either afforded, they took their leave. They con- 
 tinued to call on her every evening, to support her in her affliction, 
 and to bring her intelligence of her father, whose trial, they dis- 
 covered, was fixed for the 16th of June. Lady Alice de Windsor, 
 to whom Miriam had made known his situation, as well as her 
 husband. Lord Walter, exerted all their influence to obtain the 
 mediciner's liberation ; but it was evident, notwithstanding that 
 the Duke of Lancaster entertained a strong predilection in his
 
 270 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 favour, that the Romish clergy had marked him for their victim, 
 and that, though the evidence likely to be adduced against him 
 was frivolous in the extreme, he would in all probability be con- 
 demned to the stake. As, however, his great abilities, natural 
 and acquired, were well known to the bigoted hierarchy, and they 
 were anxious to achieve the conversion of so learned a person, an 
 offer of pardon was held out to him provided he would embrace 
 the Romish creed. Whether he accepted this offer, or, despite 
 the natural desire for life and unwillingness to leave his child 
 unprotected, rejected it, these chronicles will in due time make 
 manifest. 
 
 In the meantime Sir Alfred Sinclair conceived a design by 
 which he proposed to complete the mediciner's ruin. He had 
 seen Miriam on the night of her father's arrest ; and having been 
 struck with the grace and beauty of her person, and being aware 
 that she was now the only inmate of the house, he determined to 
 carry her off. Accordingly, about a month after his last visit to 
 that locality, he set out for Aldgate, bent on Miriam's ab- 
 duction. 
 
 The clock of the neighbouring priory of the Trinity had just 
 struck eleven, and Miriam was preparing to retire for the night, 
 when a loud knocking at the outer door arrested her purpose. 
 After a moment's hesitation, to consider whether at that hour such 
 a course would be advisable, she resolved to inquire the purpose 
 of this summons, and forthwith repaired to the door. 
 
 « Who knocks?'' she asked, in a tremulous tone. 
 
 " Where is your sire, the mediciner, fair mistress ?" was the 
 reply. 
 
 *' Alas, sir I" rejoined Miriam, " he is in prison." 
 
 " Alas, indeed !" responded the other. " But cheer up, my 
 daughter ! I will set him at liberty straight. Thou knowest my 
 voice, I ween ? I am Master Cobbs." 
 
 " God, he be thanked I" exclaimed Miriam, hastily removing 
 the fastenings of the door. " Will not you enter, sir ?" 
 
 " Ay, certes," said her interlocutor. " I would confer with 
 you, maiden." And, as the last bolt was withdrawn, he rudely 
 pushed open the door, 
 
 Miriam started back amazed. She suffered the lamp to fall 
 from her trembling hand ; for, as the reader will have conjectured, 
 the person whom she had admitted was Sir Alfred Sinclair. 
 
 " Fear not," said Sir Alfred, smiling at the success of his 
 stratagem." Thou shalt meet no harm, lovely maid." 
 
 " Caitiff knight I" exclaimed Miriam, pale with terror, "what 
 wouldst thou?" 
 
 " Thy fair company," replied Sir Alfred. " And see," he added, 
 drawing a poniard from its sheath, and holding it up before her 
 eyes, " if thou dare to utter an alarm, this cold steel shall be 
 acquaint with thee."
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 271 
 
 Miriam shrank before the miscreant's weapon. " Oh, spare 
 me, sir I" she screamed. " For pity's sake, spare me !" 
 
 " Thou hast nothing to fear, fair trembler," said Sir Alfred. 
 " Don thy hood, and come quietly away, and 'twill be better for 
 thee and for thy sire." 
 
 Miriam hesitated; but Sir Alfred, again menacing her with the 
 poniard, forced her up stairs to the upper chamber, where she 
 donned her hood and scarf. He then conducted her from the 
 house, before which, without the garden, Rowland White was 
 waiting with two horses. On one of the horses Sir Alfred placed 
 Miriam ; and taking his place behind her, and bidding Rowland 
 White to follow, rode off. 
 
 Leaving Miriam, for the present, to pursue her journey, the 
 chronicler must recur to the fortunes of his hero. 
 
 Nearly a month after Miriam's abduction, which he had dis- 
 covered on the following morning, Dick — who, as well as Master 
 Simon, had exerted himself to the utmost to track her steps — 
 accidentally encountered Mistress Alice Fitzwarren. It was the 
 same hour at which, on a former occasion, she had apprised him 
 of the suit of Master Cottle — it was the same place, and, as then, 
 she was weeping. Her back was towards him, so that, as he stood 
 on the threshold of the chamber, she did not observe him ; but his 
 eyes were bent on her as though he would search her soul. She 
 held a paper in her right hand, and a white kerchief in the other, 
 and, when she withdrew the one, she would hold the other up 
 before her eyes. He advanced, on tip-toe, to where she stood ; 
 and peeped over her shoulder. He uttered an exclamation of 
 surprise ; for the paper on which Mistress Alice was gazing bore 
 a representation of his own countenance. 
 
 "What means this bold behaviour, sir ?" demanded Mistress 
 Alice, colouring to the brow as she hastily crumpled up the paper. 
 
 " Lady," said Dick, throwing himself at her feet, " upbraid me 
 not I — upbraid me not 1 If I err in loving thee — and I call God 
 to witness that I do love thee — then Heaven, also, is to blame — 
 and more than I — for making thee so lovely and so good." 
 
 " I must not listen to this from my father's servant," said 
 Mistress Alice, bursting into tears. 
 
 " True, true, lady," replied Dick. " If ever I presume further, 
 thou wouldst do ill to listen. But the meanest hind, as thou 
 knowest, may love the highest dame. Otherwise, God were cruel 
 to awaken love where passion is inhibited. But I presume, lady. — 
 I would only vow fealty — only disclose my love ; and, I thank our 
 Lady, I can die happy. I ask no love in return. I seek no Will- 
 o'-the-wisp hopes. I crave forgiveness only." 
 
 In the fourteenth century, and for several centuries anterior, 
 the romantic love to which Dick here alludes, so long as it aspired 
 not to the nuptial benediction of a priest, was very generally 
 suffered. Princesses had elected champions among the lowest
 
 272 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 order of knights ; titled dames had martial plebeians and humble 
 minstrels for their avowed admirers ; and young ladies of wealth 
 and degree, imbued with the high romance and chivalrous cha- 
 racter of the times, often sacrificed their hearts where they would 
 have thought it criminal to surrender their hands. Such being the 
 case, and Dick's prayer, moreover, being very moderate in tone, 
 it was no marvel that Mistress Alice hesitated. 
 
 " I do forgive you, Dick," she said, at length, " I dare say you 
 can scarce help loving me ; for we were children together, and we 
 have grown up together ; and, only that it would displease my 
 sire, I think we ought to — love together. I only hope you will 
 forget me, Dick. I only wish you were a lord — as you deserve 
 to be." 
 
 Dick did not reply ; but a person who stood on the threshold, 
 and who had overheard the preceding dialogue, muttered " haw !" 
 and stole, unperceived, away. 
 
 " I thought I heard some one speak," said Mistress Alice, 
 looking round. "But no; 'tis only the terror of conscious guilt, 
 for I know my father would account our conference a sin." 
 
 " And I the sinner," observed Dick, as, rising to his feet, he 
 pressed both his hands on his forehead, and quitted the chamber. 
 
 For more than a fortnight afterwards, Dick saw very little of 
 Mistress Alice. One evening, as he was working in the garden, 
 he heard a footstep behind him, and, turning round, he espied that 
 young lady. It was a lovely evening in June. The air, the 
 lucidity of which was just shaded by the twilight, teemed with 
 grateful fragi'ance ; and the voice of the nightingale, carolling his 
 vespers, wakened melodious thoughts in the human mind. Dick 
 advanced to meet the lady whose image was blended with the 
 essence of his soul. 
 
 It is next to impossible for two young hearts, glowing with im- 
 petuous feelings and headlong impulses, to stray together, at the 
 gentle season of twilight, through the gay garden or merry green- 
 wood, or even over the vernal and jocund fields, a«d not feel that 
 they palpitate in unison, and that there is a fellowship of sentiment 
 and ideas betwixt them. Some such reflection as this, perhajjs, 
 stole over the minds of our primitive parents, when, at their first 
 interview in the garden of Eden, they mutually imderstood that 
 they were made for each other, and that in their eyes, though 
 every object was a beautiful novelty, and existence itself a 
 wondrous and abrupt miracle, it was the presence of both alone 
 that made that garden of gardens a paradise. Love, whose first 
 low suspirations escape unheeded, is often the offspring of this 
 silent sympathy, which, before he is himself a conscious passion, 
 prepares him a bed of tender memories, and lulls him to sleep 
 with harmonious meditations. And Mistress Alice and Dick, as 
 they looked at each other, and then, as if to relieve their eyes, 
 looked round the garden, felt that, though only their breath
 
 DICK WHITTINGTUN. 273 
 
 escaped from their lips, their bounding hearts were holding com- 
 munion. Throughout that day — nay, throughout every day, and 
 every night too, Dick had been the principal, the all-absorbing 
 idea of ^Mistress Alice's mind. One moment his forlorn situation 
 would move her to pity — " pity is a! ;n to love :" — and she would 
 compute his misfortunes, think, what his feelings were while those 
 misfortunes oppressed him, and speculate whether, in moments of 
 extreme misery, hope and fortitude had ever forsaken him ; and 
 thus, as it were, blending her own with his spirit, she would ideally 
 undergo the same misfortunes, develop the same feelings, indulge 
 similar hopes, and be sustained by the same fortitude as he himself 
 had undergone, developed, entertained, and displayed. And yet, 
 in that moment of transport, while a nerve seemed to jut itself 
 from the heart to the lips, and on its passage to convulse the 
 bosom of each with deliglitful emotion, as though it were the con- 
 ductor of bright thoughts and loving vows, which, in their very 
 conception, awakened a sense of bliss that may be imagined but 
 not expressed — in that moment, when there was none but God to 
 observe them, blushes suffused the cheeks of the lovers : it was — 
 incomprehensible mystery — shame without guilt! 
 
 Yet it was a glorious hour, which passed fleet as a minute, and 
 sweet as a melody, and bright as a summer morning over the souls 
 of the youthful lovers ; and not the less delicious that there was 
 never a word of passion spoken, never a syllable of love breathed. 
 But love has a language of its own ; and of this language, which 
 is current in heaven. Mistress Alice and Dick availed themselves. 
 Passion was in the tones of their voices, love was in the pupils of 
 their eyes, sympathy in the heavings of their bosoms, and delight, 
 that tongue might not tell of, or breath embody, was painted on 
 their cheeks. 
 
 " I am sure," said Mistress Alice, when they had been con- 
 versing for about an hour, " you are destined for a high station, 
 Dick." 
 
 " Would it were so I" exclaimed Dick ; " for then I might hope 
 to win this hand." 
 
 " And haply, thou mayst yet win it," observed a third person. 
 
 The lovers turned hastily round; and each of them, fearing for 
 the other, trembled. 
 
 " I say, lady," continued the interloper, nodding his head, as if 
 he were about to deliver a dogma which he defied the greatest 
 philosophers on earth to dispute, " he may yet win that hand ; for 
 * perseverance accomplishf th many things.'" 
 
 The lovers were quite abashed; but Master Simon (for the 
 speaker was none other) insisted that, without paying any atten- 
 tion to him, they should resume the dialogue which he had inter- 
 rupted, and which, though he had heard its conclusion only, he 
 doubted not would afford him considerable entertainment. 
 
 " 'Tis a droll thing enow," he observed, " for ye two to be 
 
 T
 
 274 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 lovers ; but. droller things have happed. Go to, then ! Shall I 
 be a balk to ye ? Am I an intermeddler, think ye ? Go to !" 
 
 But Mistress Alice, instead of going-to, or, as Master Simon 
 wished, making love to Dick, turned on her heel, and ran away. 
 Dick and Master Simon, however, stood still, and looked at each 
 other for some moments without speaking. At length. Master 
 Simon shook his head, and observed that, though it was unques- 
 tionably the happiest condition of man, there were several little 
 annoyances attendant on matrimony which often discomposed 
 him. 
 
 *' I seldom hear you complain. Master Simon," observed Dick. 
 
 " Nay," said Master Simon ; " nor ought I ; but you know, 
 Dick, the poor mediciner used to tell me it befitted a married 
 man to keep his house in order. Now, my dame cries me nay to 
 this ; and no sooner do I begin to put the place to rights than she 
 bids me mind my own business. When, having coaxed her to be 
 quiet, I have placed things in tolerable order, the children rebel ; 
 and while some turn the chairs into horses, others chalk the table, 
 and deface the wainscot." 
 
 " Thy labour is lost, then," observed Dick. " But have you any 
 news of the rebels, sir?" 
 
 "Ay; 'twas that brought me hither," replied Master Simon. 
 " One Wat Tyler, with one hundred thousand men, is coming on 
 to London. They have encamped, as I am advised, on Black- 
 heath." 
 
 " I am sorry for't," said Dick. 
 
 " I hear there is one among them," continued Master Simon, 
 " whom I know. I should like to see if he is really there." 
 
 " Who is he ?" asked Dick. 
 
 "Of that anon," replied Master Simon. "Will you journey 
 thither with me ; and see if he is there?" 
 
 " Willingly," returned Dick. 
 
 " To-morrow, then," said Master Simon, " at day-break, we 
 will visit the rebel camp. Till then, Dick, farewell !"
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. £75 
 
 CHAPTER VI. — THE CLERK. 
 
 INTRODUCES THE READER TO THE CAMP OF WAT TYLER, AT 
 BLACKHEATH, WHERE AN INCIDENT OCCURS THAT FORETOKENS 
 THE EARLY CONCLUSION OF THIS HISTORY. 
 
 On the following morning, about an hour after day-break, Dick, 
 and Master Simon approached Blackheath. That noted rendezvous 
 of the gallant men of Kent lay open before them ; but never 
 before, perhaps, did it present a scene so busy as that which it 
 then exhibited. The levying of an impost called the poll-tax, 
 which assigned to the king a groat on the head of every person 
 above the age of fifteen years, and which was immediately de- 
 manded by the exigencies of the government, had created a 
 widely-spread disaffection among the people ; and a handful of 
 designing men, aided by the seditious discourses of a maniac 
 priest, availed themselves of this discontented spirit, to incite the 
 people to riot. An abandoned miscreant, whose real name has not 
 transpired, but who is known to posterity by the appellation of 
 Wat Tyler, refused to pay the tax for his daughter — a full-grown 
 woman — whom he affirmed to be under the specified age ; and, as 
 that functionary persisted in discharging his duty, struck the tax- 
 gatherer on the forehead with a heavy hammer, which caused his 
 instant death. Wat Tyler then assembled his neighbours, and 
 having declared that his daughter had sustained a brutal insult at 
 the hands of the deceased, and assured them that the government 
 intended to strip them of all their rights — to burn their dwellings, 
 to tear them from their families, and to reduce them to the most 
 abject bondage — exhorted them to rise, arm, and resist. The 
 ignorant peasantry, seduced by the harangues of such insidious 
 demagogues, rose in masses ; and plundered and burned and de- 
 stroyed all that was fair and venerable and sacred in the land. 
 Blood — the blood of the illustrious and brave — flowed like water ; 
 devastation marked the track of the rebel array ; and the flames of 
 many a lordly castle illuminated, while the shrieks of defiled 
 innocence rent, the midnight air.
 
 276 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Master Simon and Dick were now in the vicinity of the multi- 
 tude who had perpetrated these gigantic atrocities. Before them 
 lay the extensive heath, crowded with rude tents and ruder huts — ■ 
 the latter constructed of green boughs, torn from the adjacent 
 woods. In the centre of this castrensian array rose the gorgeous 
 tent of the leader — Wat Tyler, decorated with seventeen costly 
 streamers, the spoil of as many noble houses ; and beside it, over 
 a more humble but still splendid tent, rose the gay banner of 
 parson Ball : — 
 
 SlSBljcn iatiam tj}U'^ anii ISbe spann, 
 
 512Hi)o teas tfjcn a gentleman ? 
 
 Such was its memoiable inscription ! 
 
 Towards this latter tent ATa^^ter Simon and Dick bent their steps. 
 The area in its front was crowded with the insurgents ; and from 
 the interior of an uncovered waggon, in which Wat Tyler and a 
 half-dozen others were also seated, parson Ball was addressing the 
 congregation. To give an outline of his pernicious doctrines, 
 which have lately been revived by a wretch whose name is too 
 obscene to be spoken, too vile to be written, and too disgusting to 
 be conjectured, would be aiding the propagation of a belief which, 
 treating religion as a fable, and existence itself as a dream, aims 
 at the destruction of all government, all order — which seeks to 
 sever all the sweet associations of society, to suppress all the 
 bright affections of man, and by denouncing Christianity as priest- 
 craft, and I'epi'esenting justice as cruelty, would at once destroy 
 peace in life and hope in death. This complete annihilation of 
 human happiness was sought by parson Ball ; and this, and far 
 more than this, is sought by the more infamous disciples of 
 socialism. 
 
 But having introduced Dick Whittington to company from 
 whom he cannot be too soon extricated, and not wishing to incur 
 the responsibility of continuing the reader in so noxious an atmo- 
 sphere, the chronicler will for the present quit the camp for the 
 Dover road, along which, on the morning in question, a cavalier 
 and his train were proceeding Dover-wards. 
 
 " Dark-eyed maiden," said the cavalier, addressing a horse- 
 woman at his side, "wherefore art thou so cruel ? Thou knowest 
 thou'rt in my power, and yet, so thou wilt but be kind, I will treat 
 thee generously." 
 
 " My Lord," replied Miriam Salmon — for such was the female's 
 name, '* thou mayst threat and thou mayst promise ; but nor 
 threats nor bribes will surprise my honour. Thou hast bereft me 
 of my sire " 
 
 " He shall be restored to thee," interrupted Sir Alfred. " I will 
 deliver him, protect him, and enrich him, if thou wilt but accept 
 my suit." 
 
 " Never I" exclaimed Miriam, " not for the wealth of India 
 would I sacrifice my truth."
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 277 
 
 '* Then we will on to France," said Sir Alfred. " For nearly 
 seven weeks have I sued thee as my mistress ; I will now command 
 thee as my slave." 
 
 Miriam made no reply, and the baron and his train moved on 
 in silence. It was now broad day, and as they turned a sweep of 
 the road, about ten miles distance from the metropolis, they espied 
 five horsemen coming from the opposite quarter. The baron 
 ordered his train, which comprised four stout men-at-arms, to 
 close round Miriam, and prepare to resist any aggression. In the 
 meantime the other party advanced, and, as they drew nearer and 
 nearer, Miriam, who had predetermined to supplicate their inter- 
 ference, at once recognised their leader. 
 
 " Henry Sinclair ! Henry Sinclair !" she screamed, " help, for 
 the honour of your mother! Help, for the Jew's daughter !" 
 
 The name of Henry Sinclair, shouted at the pitch of Miriam's 
 voice, smote Sir Alfred to the heart. Ordering liis men to follow, 
 and seizing Miriam's bridle, he spurred his horse forwards ; but 
 there was one, whose features he had never forgotten, who planted 
 himself in his path — it was Hubert Cromwell. 
 
 " Hound !" cried Sir Alfred, dropping Miriam's rein, and raising 
 his rapier, " die !"' 
 
 " To the rescue, gallants !" vociferated Master Henry. *' Sin- 
 clair, to the rescue I" 
 
 " Sinclair, to the rescue !" shouted his falconer, esquire, and 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Miriam watched the fight. She saw one of the combatants fall 
 — a pale-faced but lovely page — Clarissa. Then she heard a loud 
 shout; and, turning round, descried a large party of horse ap- 
 proaching. They were a motley array — peasants, discarded sol- 
 diers, dirty-faced craftsmen, and lads from the plough, armed to 
 the teeth. They were led by a brawny, well-set man, of middle 
 stature, mounted on a stout black horse, and bearing a red banner, 
 inscribed — 
 
 Cf)e Comuns of iSnslon'&c. 
 
 " Yield I" cried the leader, dashing in among the combatants. 
 
 Both Sir Alfred Sinclair and Master Henry, as they glanced at 
 the overwhelming force M'hich confionted them, saw that, even if 
 they made common cause against the common enemy, resistance 
 would be unavailing ; and they therefore surrendered to the leader 
 of the commons though by what authority the commons interfered 
 they could not divine. Meanwhile the gaunt falconer had dis- 
 mounted, and sprang to the side of Clarissa, who, he found, had 
 been run through the body. 
 
 " Hold out awhile !" said the gaunt falconer, as a tear rushed 
 to his eye. " Hold out awhile, dear ! Thou hast died a soldier's 
 death." 
 
 " My poor boy !" exclaimed Master Henry, who at this moment 
 discovered Clarissa's condition, and sprang to her side — " My
 
 278 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 faithful page !" he continued, bending over her ; " my honest 
 Hal !" 
 
 Clarissa looked up, and fixed her eyes fondly on her master and 
 the falconer ; but the latter turned away his head. She moved 
 her lips, and, even over the frosty pallor of approaching death, 
 the warm blush of modesty usurped her cheek. 
 
 " Let me be moved honourably, master," she said. — " / am a 
 tvoman." 
 
 " 'Tis true," observed the falconer, perceiving that Master 
 Henry looked incredulous. " She has followed you for love's 
 sake. Her name is Clarissa." 
 
 Master Henry stood motionless and mute. For two or three 
 moments he looked steadfastly in Clarissa's face, as though he 
 would associate her with bygone events, and then, stooping down, 
 he kissed her icy lips. 
 
 *' God — have — mer-cy !" sighed Clarissa ; and those were the 
 last words that she ever spoke, for in five minutes she was a 
 corpse. 
 
 '* To horse ! to horse !'' shouted the leader of the commons. 
 
 " Let me bear away the body I" cried Master Henry. 
 
 But the leader was already out of hearing, and his followers, 
 tearing them from Clarissa's side, forced Master Henry and the 
 falconer to take up a position in their ranks, brutally exclaiming, as 
 they threw the body of Clarissa to one side of the road, that the 
 dead would serve the birds for food. 
 
 Miriam Salmon, the two Sinclairs, and their followers, were 
 now escorted by their captors to the camp of Wat Tyler, to which 
 camp an hour's ride introduced them. As they entered the camp 
 their leader beckoned Hubert Cromwell to his side. 
 
 " You forget not my countenance, I see," he said, in an under 
 tone. 
 
 '< No, Master Whittington," replied Hubert Cromwell. " I have 
 good cause to remember you ; and since we met last, in the haunted 
 chamber of Arkton Castle, I have learned you were wedded to 
 my sister." 
 
 " And my boy ?" said Whittington. " Dost know aught of my 
 boy ?" 
 
 " Of thy boy," returned Hubert, " I know nothing ; but there is 
 the boy" — he pointed to Master Henry — "whose life you saved 
 that night." 
 
 "Indeed," said Whittington. "Well, I dare not suffer you to 
 depart now. I must have you all before Wat Tyler, our leader ; 
 but fear nought. None of your party shall meet harm, I promise 
 you." 
 
 " Enough," rejoined Hubert ; and they proceeded on their way. 
 
 Parson Ball had just concluded his harangue, in which he had 
 been inveighing bitterly against kings and aristocrats, when Dick 
 and Master .Simon, hearing the tramp of horses' feet, turned round.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 279 
 
 and discovered our prisoners and their captors. Both Dick and 
 Master Simon, at their first glance at the heterogeneal cavalcade, 
 recognised the faces of several of the prisoners ; but as they could 
 not at the moment render them any service, and might by claim- 
 ing their acquaintance endanger their own lives, they resolved to 
 avoid their observation. Meanwhile the prisoners were placed in 
 order before Wat Tyler's tent ; and all of them save Sir Alfred 
 and Master Henry, both of whom swore that before they resigned 
 their swords they would render their lives, were deprived of their 
 weapons. 
 
 " And what are ye ?" cried Wat Tyler, striding up to Sir 
 Alfred and Master Henry. 
 
 " Who art thou, bold traitor ?" demanded Sir Alfred. 
 
 " Foul-mouthed peer/' rejoined Wat Tyler, raising his hand, 
 "dost thou beard me?" 
 
 " And darest thou to raise thy hand against a belted baron ?" 
 replied Sir Alfred, his patrician spirit, which evil passions had so 
 long obscured, bursting the bounds of policy. " Beshrew thy 
 heart, base slave ! begone !'' 
 
 Wat Tyler, surprised and awed at the baron's commanding 
 presence, shrank back ; but the impulse was momentary. 
 
 " Seize him !" he roared, addressing his minions. 
 
 " Back, ye traitors ! slaves ! brutes ! devils !" cried Sir Alfred, 
 struggling to free his limbs. 
 
 Master Henry, forgetting all his wrongs, drew forth his rapier, 
 and determined to succour his uncle; but Hubert Cromwell, more 
 prudent, held him back. The gaunt falconer, however, was not 
 to be so restrained. He sprang forwards ; and wresting a weapon 
 from the hands of one of the rebels, and knocking him down with 
 its hilt, he made up to Sir Alfred's side. But his success was 
 transient ; and exhausted by their exertions, and overpowered by 
 numbers, both he and Sir Alfred were obliged to succumb. 
 
 " Hoist them to yonder tree !" cried Wat Tylei-, foaming with 
 rage. " But hold ! bring me this fine lord hither awhile. Ho I" 
 he continued, as Sir Alfred was dragged before him, " I have 
 somewhat for you, master I There," he added, as he spat in his 
 face, " There — there" — and he dug his spurred heel into his 
 mouth. " Off with him ! off with him I" 
 
 A rope was thrown over the bough of an adjacent tree, and 
 noosed round Sir Alfred's neck. A man who was perched on the 
 bough, and whose ferocious countenance well fitted him for a 
 hangman, then hauled up the rope ; and having hoisted Sir Alfred 
 into the air, and secured the end of the rope round the trunk of 
 the tree, he sprang on to Sir iMfred's shoulders, and speedily ter- 
 minated his sufferings. The falconer, who had been watching the 
 execution with starting eyeballs, was now ordered to prepare him- 
 self for a similar fate ; and his hands were bound, and the noose 
 fitted accordingly.
 
 280 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Dick had been an impatient spectator of this vindictive cruelty. 
 It has been before remarked that his resolutions were quickly 
 taken, and that his inventive powers, which had extricated him 
 from many a dilemma, were of a superior order. But his present 
 design, as well as ready genius in its conception, required strong 
 nerve in its execution. He did not, indeed, hesitate a moment, 
 but, disregarding the whispered remonstrances of Master Simon, 
 to wliom he confided his purpose, he pushed through the crowd 
 to the presence of Wat Tyler. 
 
 " I come," he said, " as a delegate from the poor citizens of 
 London." There was a murmur of welcome from the surround- 
 ing crowd. " They invite you forward to fight for them." 
 
 " And if you are Wat Tyler," said Master Simon, who thought 
 that he might as well die with Dick, " I, too, am commissioned to 
 welcome you." 
 
 " This is good news, truly," returned the ruffian whom they 
 had addressed. " Will ye open the gates for us?" 
 " Certes, uiy lord," replied Master Simon. 
 
 *' My lord ! Dost tliou lojd me?" asked Wat Tyler, drawing 
 himself up. " We deal not in such ware, courteous sirs." 
 
 " We do I we do I'' cried the crowd. " Thou shalt be a lord. 
 Hurrah for Lord Tyler !" 
 
 " I seek not dignities, good commons,'' said Wat Tyler, with 
 aftccted humility. " Now, prithee, force me not." 
 " We will ! we will !" shouted the crowd. 
 " Then I must need consent,'' said Wat Tyler. 
 " Hurrah I hurrah !" vociferated the crowd, overjoyed at their 
 leader's condescension. 
 
 " And now, my lord, I would represent to your lordship,'' said 
 Dick, " how evil reports have gone before ye, — reports invented 
 by the rich to keep the poor in ignorance and subjection. They 
 have said, my lord, your lordship is a man of blood, come out to 
 slay and to dcbtroy. We beseech you, therefore, though all these 
 prisoners have deserved death, to permit them to depart, so that, 
 when they thus give the lie to those false reports, our cause may 
 be thereby advanced.'' 
 
 Wat Tyler's brow grew dark. 
 
 " Whatever it is draws me to this young citizen," said the elder 
 Whittington, '' I feel I could die willingly by his side. He speaks 
 truth, my lord," he added, addressing \^'at Tyler. " Be sure, he 
 speaks truth. I am sure the commons will say he speaks truth." 
 
 " Ay, ay," responded the crowd ; " the citizen speaks truth, 
 be sure." 
 
 '' Let the })risoners depart, then," returned Wat Tyler, sulkily. 
 " And ye, good citizens, bear my respects to your fellows, and tell 
 tlichi I will buccour them straightway." 
 
 The word was passed to stay the falconer's execution. The 
 hangman had already hoisted him into the air, and was preparing
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 281 
 
 to spring on to his shoulders, when he was arrested by the re- 
 prieve. The falconer was instantly cut down ; and when, after 
 an interval of a few minutes, he opened his eyes, he found himself 
 in the arms of Master Simon. 
 
 " The learned Doctor Catchpenny" — he muttered. 
 
 " Ay, I know," interrupted Master Simon, " 'twas verified at 
 last ; and lest it should terminate more seriously, we had best re- 
 treat." 
 
 " Thou speakestgood sooth," returned the falconer, as he recog- 
 nised Master Simon, and grasped his hand. 
 
 He rose to his feet, and took up his place in Master Henry's 
 train, in which Miriam, at Dick's request, also took her place, and 
 that party immediately quitted the camp. Dick and Master 
 ►Simon followed on foot. They had just quitted the heath, and 
 were congratulating themselves on their fortunate escape, when 
 they heard the tramp of a horse, in a furious gallop, close in their 
 rear. Before they could arrange any plan of proceeding they 
 were overtaken by the horseman, in whom, at the first glance, 
 Master Simon recognised the elder Whittington. 
 
 " How fare you ?" asked Master Simon, who, it may be neces- 
 sary to explain, had been made acquainted with him by the niedi- 
 ciner, who had encountered him by chance. 
 
 '* Well," answered Whittington senior. 
 
 " I should scarce think it," said Master Simon, " knowing, as I 
 do, that you are banded with blood-thirsty rebels, and bearing 
 arms against your lawful prince." 
 
 " Peace, citizen I" said the senior Whittington, sternly. " Kings 
 are either tyrants or puppets. They acknowledge no law but the 
 law of might; and against that I oppose right." 
 
 " Misguided man," said Dick, " prithee beware. Kings rule by 
 divine right — not the divine right which some aver, that descends 
 direct from God— but the right given by Christian policy and 
 human reason, both of which are divine." 
 
 " Aptly said, by George I" said Master Simon, slapping Dick's 
 back. " I will see thee a lord yet. Remember what the poor me- 
 diciner always says — ' Perseverance accomplisheth many things.' " 
 
 The elder Whittington seemed to be struck by the compact 
 quaintness of Dick's sentiments. His prejudices, however, were 
 too deeply rooted, and the doctrine of equalitj' — which in heaven 
 or on the earth, in the air, the ocean, or the depths of darkness, is 
 incompatible with existence, and which, even if it could be 
 adopted, would prove the most debasing of despotisms — was in his 
 eyes too fascinating to be abruptly repudiated. 
 
 " There is something in thy face," he said to Dick, " that re- 
 minds me of past days. Thine eye recals an eye that I once 
 knew ; and all thy features strike me as familiar. I followed thee 
 on this hint, thinking to question thee. But it matters not. We 
 have different opinions ; thine leads tliee to defend the king, mine 
 impels me to uphold the commons." His voice quivered with
 
 282 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 emotion ; and bending his eyes on Dick, and emitting a deep sigh, 
 he turned his horse's head, and rode back to the camp. 
 
 '< Humph !" said Master Simon, " I like not his company. He 
 is as arrant a rebel as here and there one." 
 
 Dick did not think so. " That man's words," he said, " have 
 sunk deep in my mind. I feel he hath a secret influence over me." 
 
 They journeyed on in silence. At length they reached the city, 
 which wore a different aspect from that which it presented in the 
 morning. William Walworth, the mayor, had ordered the city 
 gates to be shut, in order that the Kentish rebels, of whose 
 number and vicinity he was duly apprized, might not only be kept 
 out of the city, but be prevented from communicating with their 
 Essex compatriots ; but the London mob, agitated by designing 
 demagogues, flew to arms, and succeeded in obtaining and keeping 
 possession of the gates. The king shut himself up in the Tower 
 of London ; but as Jack Straw, at the head of ten thousand men 
 from Essex, immediately beleaguered that fortress, his majesty 
 judged it prudent to evacuate it, and retire to the Tower Royal. 
 Scarcely had he escaped, which he contrived to do by the river, 
 when the insurgents entered the Tower of London, and com- 
 menced that series of hellish enormities which the human heart 
 chills to think of, and the sickened brain refuses to enumerate. 
 The venerable Archbishop of Canterbury, whose support almost 
 hallowed a corrupt church, was dragged from the consecrated 
 altar to the streaming scaffold ; and there, while incarnate demons 
 danced and yelled around, his hoary head was notched from its 
 trunk. Neither age nor sex, innocence nor worth, nobility nor 
 hierarchy, were spared or regarded ; and the wild scream of pol- 
 luted beauty, the stifled groan of venerable age, the curse of the 
 bereaved wife, and the cry of the hapless orphan, confounded the 
 senses ; and the proud blood of the patrician deluged Tower Hill 
 with a living dye, and rendered it a spot accursed. Yet of the 
 arch monster who headed this unnatural outbreak, and who, as he 
 deserved, died the death of a dog, an Englishman and a poet has 
 made a hero ! 
 
 " Well," said Master Simon, as he and Dick entered Leadenhall 
 Street, '' God send all this end well. I am glad, at any rate, that 
 Miriam is under the protection of Master Henry and Hubert 
 Cromwell. Leaden Hall is a more secure asylum than we could 
 afford her." 
 
 " Ay,'' replied Dick ; " and I have now some hopes of her 
 sire's acquittal." 
 
 Master Simon shook his head. " I doubt it," he said. " But 
 get you on home, Dickon ; I will be thither anon. And, as Master 
 Eitzwarren will haply require my presence throughout this com- 
 motion, I will bring my dame and young ones with me." 
 
 They parted on reaching Master Fitzwarren's house. Dick in- 
 flicted a timid rap on the door, which was instantly opened by Mis- 
 tress Alice herself, who bade him follow her. She led the way to
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 283 
 
 the hall ; and though she moved with a firm step, and spake in her 
 usual tone of voice, Dick traced in the ashy paleness of her fea- 
 tures the alarm that she endeavoured to conceal. On entering the 
 hall, where his master and all the men in his employment were 
 assembled, he was accosted by Master Fitzwarren, who inquired 
 whence he had come. 
 
 *' From the rebel camp, at Blackheath, sir," replied Dick. 
 
 " So I have been advised," cried Master Fitzwarren. " Didst 
 take note of their array ?" And Dick nodding affirmatively, he 
 continued : — " Canst give me an account thereof? I will straight- 
 way make a report to the mayor." 
 
 " Dick can write, sir,'' said a melodious voice ; " and if you 
 think the report will be acceptable to the mayor, his inscription 
 thereof might obtain him preferment." 
 
 The speaker ceased, and shrank back abashed ; but before Dick 
 ooked at her dazzling eye, or caught a glimpse of her blushing 
 cheek, he knew the voice of the dark-eyed Miriam. On her way 
 to Leaden Hall, as he afterwards learned, she had been encoun- 
 tered by Master Fitzwarren, and the worthy merchant had insisted 
 on her partaking of his hospitality, which, as she was better 
 acquainted with him than with the inmates of Leaden Hall, she 
 had joyfully accepted. 
 
 *' You can write, then ?'' said Master Fitzwarren to Dick. 
 " Your silence on this subject has cost you much preferment. 
 But, never mind ; it is not yet too late." 
 
 Dick sat down at the table, which was furnished with the neces- 
 sary apparatus, and commenced the inscription of liis report. 
 Mistress Alice looked over his right shoulder, and Master Fitz- 
 warren over the other; and the remaining spectators, amazed that 
 so humble a person should possess such accomplishments, crowded 
 round to examine every character that he traced. Dick's cheeks 
 were flushed with pride; his hands trembled with delight; for he 
 knew, as he traced the pompous letters on the lifeless paper, that 
 Mistress Alice looked wondering on. He had finished it — finished 
 the document which was to advance him in the scale of society — 
 which exalted him in the eyes of Mistress Alice ; and in that 
 moment of triumph, when fortune seemed to light upon his pen, 
 it was only natural that he should bestow a grateful glance on the 
 bright and beautiful creature whose tuition had preferred him so 
 high. 
 
 What profound sorrow swam in the eye that met his I What 
 an amount of wretchedness and of heart-rending pangs was ex- 
 pressed in the pallor of that bright cheek ! And Dick detected 
 all. His cheek, too, turned pale ; his eyes, also, filled with tears ; 
 his heart, likewise, turned over and over ; and as he raised his 
 hand to his throbbing brow, and said that his head ached very 
 much — very much indeed, he knew, as surely as though she had 
 herself avowed it, that Miriam loved him !
 
 284 THE LIKE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER VII.— THE CONFESSION. 
 
 WHAT CAME TO PASS IN THE GARDEN OF MASTER FITZWARREN. 
 
 Master Cottle made his appearance just as Dick laid down his 
 pen. He took up the report, which lay on the table, and having 
 perused it, and pronounced it to be excellent caligraphy, inquired 
 the name of its author. Master Fitzwarren pointed to Dick, who 
 was making his egress from the room. 
 
 Dick, distracted by the unhappy discovery that he had just 
 made, wended his way to the garden, and halted not till he had 
 reached its extremity. Here stood a tall and umbrageous tree, 
 the trunk whereof was encircled by a rustic bench, on which, 
 while he tilled the adjacent parterre. Mistress Alice had often sat, 
 and, unconscious that she was kindling passion in his breast, sang 
 the metrical romances that were then popular. He sat down on 
 the bench, and crossing his right over his left leg, and leaning his 
 forehead on his right hand, bent his eyes on the grass. He was 
 soon absorbed in reverie, and no sooner did one train of thought 
 arise, and for a moment arrest his attention, than another inter- 
 posed itself, and this, straightway, was banished by another. Such 
 is the irregularity of abstract reflection, which, meteor like, darts 
 through mental space, and, while with its refined lustre it eclipses 
 substantial thought, proves by its limited existence that it is a 
 vapour only. 
 
 " Dick !" said a voice beside him, as a small and trembling hand 
 was placed in his. 
 
 " Miriam ?" replied Dick, without looking up. 
 
 " Are you angry with me, Dick?" asked Miriam. 
 
 " Wherefore should I be angry witli you?'' returned Dick. 
 
 " For making known your accomplishments," replied Miriam. 
 
 " 'Twas yo\i taught them to me," said Dick, passionately. 
 "Yet I am angry," he continued, after a moment's pause — " not 
 with you, indeed, but with your sex. Scarce one of you, being of
 
 'jJ. 'J^r ,%^f^e^'f^^'^^ -^ ^' •y^ ■^ ^'^'^ =M^<-''^' fr-'J-Hl. /// 
 
 y/f////
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 285 
 
 age sufficient, that can find room in your hearts for more than 
 one — be that one a crocodile or a hero. You suffer all your 
 affections, gradually and imperceptibly, to ooze forth from your 
 hearts, not seeking to learn whether they are swallowed up by a 
 villain, or — which often happens — discovered by their object. At 
 this I am angry, gentle, kind Miriam ; for I fear for that timid, 
 innocent heart of thine.'' 
 
 "You know it, then ?— You know it?" said Miriam, rising. 
 " I saw that you knew it I" 
 
 " Hold !" exclaimed Dick, detaining her. " Sit down, dear 
 Miriam. I have been the innocent cause of your distress. Suffer 
 me, now, to cheer you up — to attempt your comfort." 
 
 " Comfort !" exclaimed Miriam : " the comfort of disdain — of 
 contempt." 
 
 '• Not so, foolish damsel," said Dick, with emotion. " There 
 breathes but one in the wide world whom I would prefer to you — 
 even her, Miriam, I love not more than you, though, certes, with a 
 different affection.'' 
 
 " Yes, yes," returned Miriam : " I recollect. You have called 
 me sister, have you not ?" 
 
 " I know not what to call you," said Dick, taking her hand in 
 his own. "God bless you !" he added. And he raised her hand 
 to his lips, and kissed it. As Miriam attempted to draw away 
 her hand, which he still held to his lips, Dick involuntarily raised 
 his eyes, and Miriam, seeing an abrupt blush mount to his cheek, 
 turned her eyes in the same direction. Her glance, as well as that 
 of Dick, fell on the indignant countenance of Mistress Alice Fitz- 
 warren. 
 
 Dick, distracted, knew not what to do. His first impulse would 
 have led him to the side of Mistress Alice, to explain what had 
 transpired, and to exculpate himself from any suspicion which 
 appearances might excite ; but the next moment, just as he was 
 about to drop Miriam's hand, his delicate sense of honour rushed 
 to the rescue, and forbade him to take any step that might wound 
 Miriam's feelings. The latter person, however, saw through his 
 hesitation. She extricated her hand from his, which trembled 
 with excitement, and sprang to the side of Mistress Alice. 
 
 " If you knew how he loved you," she said, " how your smiles 
 gladden his heart, and how your displeasure afflicts him, you would 
 not look so unkindly." 
 
 " Young mistress," said the other, " vvouldst thou gainsay the 
 evidence of mine own eyes ?'' 
 
 " Ay, will I, lady," replied Miriam. " Why, /love him. I've 
 loved him eight years. I've loved him, lady, since the day we 
 first met, when we were but children. But he loves i/ou^ not 7ne. 
 lie pities me." 
 
 Mistress Alice seized Miriam's hand, and led her towards the 
 house. A terrace ran along the back of the house, connected by
 
 286 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 a flight of stone steps with the garden, and, by a small door in one 
 corner, with a little room, which looked out on the garden. Hither 
 did Mistress Alice conduct Miriam ; and, having closed the door, 
 bade her sit down, and compose herself. 
 
 '< Prithee compose yourself, fair mistress,'' she said. " So 
 lovely a damsel should scarce mourn the loss of one heart. There 
 are plenty, I trow, would bound with joy for thy favour." 
 
 Though Miriam was not endued with that temerity and inflexi- 
 bility of jDurpose which surmount all opposition, and which form, 
 even at this distance of several thousand years, a prominent feature 
 in the character of her immortal namesake, and though, on the 
 contrar)', she was of a timid disposition, and, when peril was im- 
 minent, irresolute, yet her affections were unalterable, her passions 
 were vehement, and her feelings impetuous. The character of 
 " the star of the sea," as depicted by the most enlightened of her 
 contemporaries, and the most faithful of historians, so far resembled 
 that of our Miriam ; but the latter, perhaps, was the truer woman, 
 as well as the more useful, in wanting the high qualities of the 
 historic heroine. Nevertheless, as has been observed, Miriam's 
 disposition was not entirely dissimilar to that of her illustrious 
 namesake. Frequently would her passions, under the influence 
 of a transient impulse, elevate her for a moment above her natural 
 timidity, and the proud spirit of the Hebrew maiden might as fre- 
 quently be traced in the precipitance and impetuosity of her 
 feelings. 
 
 " Talk not to me," she said, " of other lovers. Kno\v, lady — 
 though I am less fair, less happy, and a daughter of a persecuted 
 race, I am as constant and devoted as yourself." 
 
 " I question it not," faltered Mistress Alice. 
 
 " Nor do I resign those qualities even now,'' continued Miriam. 
 " No ! my love is too pure. I can love till they wind me in a 
 shroud — till I am wedded to the tomb. Ay, can I !" 
 
 "That can you," said Mistress Alice. 
 
 '• But he loves you" pursued Miriam ; " therefore do I leave 
 him to you. Thus, lady, my love is superior to yours, which 
 seeks your own as well as his happiness, while mine, less selfish, 
 seeks to please him at the expense of my own peace." 
 
 " I am unworthy of him,'' said Mistress Alice ; " but he is 
 worthy of you." 
 
 " Beshrew my pride !" exclaimed Miriam, softened by the 
 patient meekness of Mistress Alice, whose eyes were filled with 
 tears. " Indeed thou art all in all to him, and more worthy than 
 I. But then I had made him mine for years. I watched every 
 loving word that he spake — every fond thought that he delivered; 
 and treasured them up, as I would life-blood, in the core of my 
 heart. I dreamed of him at night, I thought of him by day, and 
 when he was present, though I scarce seemed to know it, I was in 
 a delirium of joy, — which was oblivious alike of thought and word
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 287 
 
 and act. You see, lady, 'tis very hard to part with such a fond 
 conceit, is't not, now ?" 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, it is," said Mistress Alice, 
 
 The suavity of Mistress Alice's voice, and the deep sympathy 
 that it expressed, had an immediate effect upon the temper of 
 Miriam. Her dark eyes filled with tears ; and as a sob convulsed 
 the tranquil surface of her bosom, and unbarred the floodgates of 
 her overcharged heart, she threw herself into the arms of Mistress 
 Alice, and wept aloud. 
 
 Meanwhile, Dick, whom these chronicles left in the garden, 
 relapsed into the reverie which Miriam had disturbed. He had 
 not, however, been long thus — thinking now of Mistress Alice 
 and anon of Miriam, when he was awakened from his abstraction 
 by a smart slap on the shoulder. He started up straightway, 
 and beheld Masters Cottle and Simon Racket. 
 
 "Art sleeping?" cried Master Simon. " Art i' the humours? 
 Or hath that sombre-owl — melancholy, perched upon thy brain ?" 
 
 " Angelic, 1' faith," said Master Cottle, who, besides entertaining 
 a high opinion of his taste in dress, considered Master Simon a 
 man of wit. " To him again, Simon. Thou'rt a man of parts, 
 i' faith." 
 
 Master Simon, thus encouraged, winked significantly at Dick — 
 thereby intimating that he was about to touch on a matter which 
 was known to themselves only, and which, therefore, they alone 
 could enjoy ; and continued — " Or wast thinking of thy lady- 
 love ?" 
 
 " Exquisite, i' faith," roared Master Cottle — " heavenly, by 
 dame Venus I To him again, Simon. Thou'rt a choice wag, 
 i' faith !" 
 
 " A truce to your wit, sirs," said Dick ; " for luy present mood 
 can ill brook the chafe, and I know well you'd grieve to vex me." 
 
 " Ay, would we," cried the others, simultaneously. " But w^hat 
 is't ails thee ?" 
 
 " It matters not now, your worships," replied Dick. 
 
 " Well, well," returned Master Simon, " cheer thee up. We 
 have a business on hand that we would fain confer with you 
 upon." 
 
 " What is it?" asked Dick. 
 
 '< Haw," said jNIaster Cottle — " briefly, Dick, I think we might 
 rescue the mediciner from Newgate." 
 
 "As how?" asked Master Simon, who, though he had previ- 
 ously heard the scheme of Master Cottle fully detailed, and had 
 then expressed his approbation of it, seemed to hear it now for tlie 
 first time; and, in order that he might exhibit due admiration, 
 rubbed the palms of his hands together, looked Dick steadfastly 
 in the face, and suffered his benign, charactei'istic smile to light 
 up his features. " Tell us as hoM', your worship." 
 
 " Haw, will I !" said Master Cottle. " By Jove and Juno, I
 
 288 THK LIFE AND TIMES UK 
 
 will I Why, then, you must know, Dick, the priests are striving 
 to convert this mediciner to the true faith, for he will be damned 
 else — God save us !" 
 
 " Nay, now, your worship, how know you that?" asked Master 
 Simon, suddenly stopping the frieation of his hands. " Go to !" 
 
 " Your speech smacks of heresy, Simon," resumed Master 
 Cottle, gravely. " Hold thy peace, then, for I should be sorry to 
 hear of thy being damned. The Jew — our Lady turn his heart I — 
 is stubborn, and lists not the discourses of the priests. Howbeit, 
 they persist, vowing they would rather he were an indifferent 
 Christian than a good martyr ; and so, in sooth, would I ; — by 
 Bacchus, would I !' 
 
 " But the plan to deliver him?'" inquired Dick. 
 
 " Haw, true," said Master Cottle. " Why, I purpose to visit 
 him in the guise of a friar, you and Simon being clad as priests. 
 When we are in the prison, and can confer with him, 'twill go 
 hard but we will come out together." 
 
 "■ Dost hear?'' asked Master Simon of Dick, as he rubbed his 
 hands with heartier vigour. 
 
 " Ay, sir," replied Dick. " I have not much hope of our 
 coming out together — at least, with the mediciner in company ; 
 but we may be able to confer with him, and he might devise a 
 better plan. But where will we procure our disguise?" 
 
 " Leave that to me," said Master Cottle. " Wilt engage in the 
 undertaking?" 
 
 " Certes, " answered Dick. 
 
 " Follow, then," said Master Cottle; and he led the way into 
 the street.
 
 PICK WHITTINGTON. 289 
 
 CHAPTER VIII.— THE SIEGE. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE GAOL OF NEWGATE, AND AT THE MANSION 
 OF LADY ALICE DE WINDSOR. 
 
 Newgate, the gaol in which the mediciner was confined, always 
 stood on or about the site of the present structure. " This gate,'' 
 says Stow, " hath of long time been z.gaol, or prison, for felons and 
 trespassers, as appeareth by records in the reign of King John, 
 and of other kings ; amongst the which (records) I find one, testi- 
 fying, that in the year 1218, the third of King Henry the Third, 
 the king writeth unto the sheriff's of London, commanding them 
 to repair the gaol of Newgate for the safe keeping of his pri- 
 soners, promising that the charges laid out should be allowed to 
 them upon their accompt in the Exchequer. Moreover, in the 
 year 1241, the Jews of Norwich were here hanged for circum- 
 cising a Christian child ; (I) their house, called the Thor, Avas 
 pulled down and destroyed. (!!) Aaron, the son of Abraham, a 
 Jew at London, and three other Jews, were constrained to pay 
 twenty thousand marks, at two terms in the year, or else to be 
 kept perpetual prisoners in the Newgate of London, and in other 
 prisons." (!!!) 
 
 Thus has the industrious historian given us a hint of the atro- 
 cities which were in former days perpetrated in Newgate; and 
 thus has he, who usually winks at the enormous intolerance and 
 unholy exactions of Rome, given us some idea, though a faint and 
 imperfect one, of the persecution to which the inhuman priest- 
 hood subjected the unha])py sons of Judah. Master Salmon, the 
 mediciner, was no exception to, but an illustration of, the general 
 practice. A loyal and useful subject, unstained by crime, he was 
 nevertheless laden with heavier shackles than the convicted 
 assassin ; and throughout his imprisonment, which had now lasted 
 nearly three months, was never once suff"ered to commune with 
 his friends. In vain he petitioned, in vain he protested ; the only 
 answer that was vouchsafed him came from the lips of a priest — 
 
 u
 
 '290 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Sir Ambrose Pollard. He was therefore much surprised when, 
 on the day specified in the preceding chapter, he was apprised by 
 the gaoler that a Franciscan friar, accompanied by two priests, 
 desired to have some discourse with him, 
 
 " I cannot cry them nay," replied the mediciner, " But tell 
 them, I prithee, they may spare their argviments ; for I am re- 
 solved to die in the faith of my fathers."' 
 
 " Haw !" said the Franciscan friar, as he peeped over the 
 gaoler's shoulders, and then, drawing aside his hood, disclosed his 
 face. " Wilt persevere in thy guilt?" 
 
 " Perseverance accomplisheth many things ;" suggested a 
 priest, who at this instant stepped into the cell. 
 
 " Brothers,*' said a second priest, stepping before the gaoler, 
 " this poor sinner is impenitent and stubborn ; therefore, before 
 we hold out to him those blessings which holy church vouchsafes 
 to the penitent, or those curses which she denounces against the 
 hardened, it is meet to implore the Divine assistance." 
 
 " Prithee, father, give me thy blessing," said the gaoler to the 
 last speaker. " Never a young man spake like thee till now. I 
 cannot tarry for thy praying, so prithee excuse me." 
 
 " Benedicite !" said the young priest ; and the gaoler, bowing 
 respectfull)^, departed. 
 
 " My sons," said tiie mediciner, on the gaoler's egression from 
 the room, " what brings you hither Y' 
 
 " We come to rescue you, father," said Dick. '' And fear not 
 for us, I prithee ; for the city is in a commotion, which has caused 
 every available functionary to mount patrol ; and we are, besides, 
 well armed." 
 
 " xAlas ! ' exclaimed the mediciner, " it matters not; for I am 
 chained to the wall." 
 
 " We have provided for that," said Dick, drawing a file from 
 his vest. " Now, your worship.s," he added, addressing his 
 ecclesiastical coadjutors, " you may essay your skill in the gay 
 science." 
 
 Thus called upon, after extending their countenances to a 
 consistent longitude, Masters Cottle and Racket commenced 
 singing a psalm, or, rather, something which sounded like a 
 psalm, though, as each of them adopted a different version, and 
 none of the words was vernacular, it would have puzzled Sir 
 Ambrose himself to discover its meaning. Nevertheless, it served 
 the purpose for which the singers intended it, — it prevented the 
 noise made by Dick's file from being overheard. 
 
 The mediciner's waist was encircled by an iron hoop, locked 
 in a massive chain, whicli was fastened to the wall, and so fashioned, 
 both in length and flexibility, that he could sit, stand, or lay. 
 Dick first turned his attention to this chain, which his file soon 
 severed ; and then, continuing his labours, endeavoured to force 
 the mediciner's manacles. While, however, he was thus engaged ,
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 291 
 
 the mediciner suddenly arrested his hand, and, nodding bis head 
 towards the door, threw himself on the ground. 
 
 The mediciner, quick as light, fixed his chain so ingeniously 
 that its inefficiency could not be detected ; and before the gaoler, 
 whom he heard without, had opened the door, he had apprised 
 each of the party of his vicinity. The gaoler now presented him- 
 self; for though he had evidently a superstitious disinclination to 
 interfere with the priests, and had not the least doubt of their cle- 
 rical authenticity, yet the length of their stay, and the quiet man- 
 ner in which the mediciner had received them — so different from 
 his bearing towards the venerable Sir Ambrose Pollard, awakened 
 suspicions which he could neither define nor trace. Dick, who 
 perceived that the gravity of his demeanour had impressed him 
 with awe, immediately accosted him, and bade him welcome. 
 
 " Your long stay amazed me, reverend father," returned the 
 gaoler. <' I thought you were waiting for me to attend you out." 
 
 " Truly, thou art most courteous," replied Dick ; " but if it be 
 lawful, and consistent with thy duty, I would rather tarry awhile : 
 for though I am but a humble instrument, and unskilful withal, 
 yet have I touched this poor sinner's heart." 
 
 The mediciner gave utterance to a penitential groan. 
 
 " I hope I arrest not your discourse, father," said the gaoler. 
 
 <' Nay, my son," returned Dick. " Prithee," he added, hoping 
 to stifle the suspicions which he perceived the gaoler entertained, 
 and which he knew not how else to elude, " prithee, abide its 
 delivery." 
 
 " That he must not," cried Master Simon ; " I protest against 
 it. 'Tis a placing of the clergy under the civil law." 
 
 " Nay, reverend sirs," said the gaoler, thrown off" his guard, " let 
 not me be cause of dissension among ye." 
 
 " Retire then, my son," rejoined Dick, "and take a poor priest's 
 benediction with thee." 
 
 The gaoler, now satisfied of the innocence of the last speaker's 
 purposes, retired from the cell, but, with the precaution of an 
 experienced fuuctionarj^, locked the door after him. This circum- 
 stance, however, did not discourage our friends, who, directly they 
 heard the key turned in the lock, resumed their respective tasks — 
 Masters Cottle and Racket labouring with their voices, and Dick 
 with his file. 
 
 Dick, after nearly half an hour's toil, had just succeeded in 
 dividing the manacles, when he heard the key introduced into the 
 lock of the door. As the door opened, liov.Gver, and disclosed the 
 person of Sir Ambrose Pollard, the mediciner's hands were free, 
 and he was again extended on the floor. 
 
 Sir Ambrose Pollard had never forgotten the treatment that he 
 had received from the mediciner at the lodgings of Master Simon 
 Racket. He had long watched for an occasion which would 
 afford him the means of revenge ; but while the mediciner was
 
 292 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 supported by powerful friends — such as Dame Alice Ferrers and 
 her coadjutors, he watched for such an occasion in vain. When, 
 however, the opposite party became ascendant, and Sir Alfred Sin- 
 clair had compassed the Jew's imprisonment, the vindictive priest 
 pursued him with the most inveterate though disguised animosity. 
 Under pretence of achieving his conversion, which he knew well 
 could never be accomplished by him, he persecuted him with con- 
 tinual visits, and, while he professed a friendly feeling towards him, 
 exerted himself to bring about his condemnation. He had been 
 apprised by the gaoler that there were three ecclesiastics confer- 
 ring with the mediciner ; and enraged at their impertinent inter- 
 ference, and apprehensive that they might persuade him to pro- 
 fess, if not adopt, the Roman faith, he now rushed in. As he 
 strode into the middle of the cell, without deigning to acknowledge 
 the salutes of the seeming priestSj Master Cottle glided stealthily 
 to the door, and, encountering a significant glance from Dick, 
 closed it. 
 
 " Sir Ambrose Pollard,'' said Master Simon, springing on his 
 shoulders, and holding a naked dagger before his eyes, " say one 
 word, and, by the God that made me ! you cease to live." 
 
 The tone in which Master Simon spake, the threat which the 
 speech conveyed, and, alcove all, the dagger that gleamed before 
 his eyes, struck terror into the heart of the priest ; and reflecting 
 that, though one cry would bring him succour, he might be mur- 
 dered before the gaoler could arrive, he did not attempt to raise 
 an alarum. 
 
 " Keep him silent, Master Simon," cried Dick. " His clothes 
 must serve to disguise the mediciner." 
 
 " A brave device," observed the mediciner, springing to his 
 feet. 
 
 Sir Ambrose was speedily divested of his upper garments, 
 which, as he was of a tall person, answered very well for the me- 
 diciner, who immediately donned them. 
 
 " I think we had best dispatch this caitiff priest," suggested 
 Master Cottle. 
 
 *' ' Thou shalt do no murther,' " said the mediciner, " for so is 
 it writ in the book of the law." 
 
 " True !" cried Dick. " Let us on, sirs ; and prepare to force 
 your way.'' 
 
 They emerged from the cell, leaving Sir Ambrose at large 
 within, but locking the door without. No sooner, however, did 
 Sir Ambrose hear the key turned in the lock, than he began kick- 
 ing with all his force against the door, and calling on the gaoler 
 to come to his assistance, and, at the same time, to arrest the 
 fugitives. 
 
 It was fortunate for these latter, whose egression from the cell 
 would otherwise have been frustrated, that the gaoler, at the 
 moment, was in a remote part of the prison, and thus beyond the
 
 DICK VVHITTINGTON. 293 
 
 reach of Sir Ambrose's invocations. A messenger had arrived, 
 just as he had resolved on visiting the mediciner's cell, with a 
 mandate from the mayor, directing him to put the prison in a 
 state of defence, as the insurgents of Essex, under the command 
 of Jack Cade, would probably attack it, and by this means the 
 attention of the gaoler was diverted from his other duties. As 
 our friends, however, Avere crossing the hall, and congratulating 
 themselves on their good fortune, he suddenly confronted them. 
 
 " Sir Ambrose," he cried to the mediciner, " I have a word to 
 say with you, and it like your reverence." 
 
 But the mediciner, instead of arresting, hastened his pace, and 
 made rather abruptly for the door. His three friends closed 
 round him, and laid their hands on their concealed weapons ; for 
 the gaoler, it seemed, was determined to commune with the per- 
 son whom he mistook for Sir Ambrose, and with this purpose 
 brushed up to them. 
 
 " Be firm," whispered Dick to the mediciner. " There are 
 those outside who will cover your retreat." 
 
 " Sir Ambrose," cried the gaoler, '' prithee stop !" 
 
 At this moment Dick had one hand on the handle of the door, 
 and the other hand on the key, when the gaoler made his way 
 through Masters Cottle and Racket, who brought up the rear. 
 
 " Suffer me to open the door, father," he said. " But, Sir 
 Ambrose," he added, turning to the mediciner, " I must first 
 speak with thee. ' 
 
 He caught hold of the mediciner's cassock, and pressed forward 
 to address him, when a cry of treason rang through the hall. 
 
 " Will not I serve your turn as well as Sir Ambrose?" de- 
 manded Master Simon of the gaoler, as he knocked hiiu on the 
 head, and prostrated him to the floor. 
 
 Dick turned round the key and pulled open the dooi-, but 
 before any of his friends could dart out, three of the junior 
 gaolers rushed into the hall. They immediately descried the 
 situation of their principal, who, as he strove to rise, called vehe- 
 mently for assistance ; but our fugitives nov/ disclosed their 
 weapons ; and the gaolers, being unarmed, were afraid to molest 
 them. In a few moments, however, they supplied themselves with 
 rapiers, which they snatched from a rack that stood in the hall, 
 and advanced to the rescue ; but in the interim Dick and his 
 companions had darted out. 
 
 Master Henry Sinclair, with Hubert Cromwell and the gaunt 
 falconer, having their hoods down and their rapiers drawn, stood 
 outside, and directly their friends had sallied forth, they raised a 
 pretended brawl, which diverted the attention of the few passers- 
 by. The fugitives, meanwhile, ran off in different directions, 
 having, previous to dispersing, agreed to rendezvous at the resi- 
 dence of Lady Alice de Windsor. When, therefore, the gaolers 
 issued forth, though they wx^re scarcely a minute behind, they found
 
 294 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 the road impeded by a crowd that had gathered round Master 
 Henry ; and the fugitives, they perceived, had so scattered 
 themselves that, unless they were intercepted by the patrol, the 
 capture of any one of them seemed impossible. Nevertheless, 
 as the gaolers were obliged to answer for their prisoners, body for 
 body, they resolved to join in pursuit of the mediciner, whom tliey 
 . descried a short distance a head. 
 
 The twilight was just beginning to fall over the city as the me- 
 diciner reached Cheapside. He made straight for the Standard, or 
 permanent scaffold, which the succeeding twenty hours dyed with 
 innocent blood ; and, running round to the further side, crept 
 under the beams that supported the platform. As soon as his 
 pursuers came up, and perceived that he had disappeared, they 
 thought that he had turned down Wood Street, which, about 
 twenty yards further up, led off to the barbican, or watch-tower. 
 Thither, therefore, they repaired, hoping to overtake him before 
 he could reach Cripplegate, whither they doubted not he had di- 
 rected his steps. 
 
 Having thus thrown his pursuers off the scent, and seeing that, 
 as the shops were all closed and scarcely a person was in the street, 
 it was not likely that any would notice whither he passed, the me- 
 diciner walked at his quickest pace up Cheapside. As he passed the 
 top of Gracious Street, down which he had intended to proceed, he 
 perceived a large concourse of people pressing up the street, and, 
 inferring from their shouts that they were a jjarty of the insur- 
 gents, he ran up Leadenhall Street, and, turning down a dark court 
 that led to Fish Street, made for the residence of Lady Alice de 
 Windsor. In a few minutes he arrived thither, and having inflicted 
 a loud rap on the door, and delivered the password to a domestic 
 who hailed him from within, he was straightway admitted. 
 
 " Welcome, Sir Mediciner," said Lady Alice, when he was intro- 
 duced to her presence ; " how thou hast come hither is another 
 matter.'' 
 
 " Which I will straight advertise you of, lady," replied the 
 mediciner. 
 
 " And I, meanwhile, will look after our defences," said Lord 
 Walter, who, on his entry, had greeted the mediciner with a kind 
 welcome. 
 
 Lady Alice and the mediciner had been conversing for about 
 half-an-hour, during which they had repeatedly been startled by 
 the tumult that rent the air without, when the door was flung 
 open, and Lord Walter rushed into the chamber. 
 
 *' Hell is let loose !" he cried. " The demons have found you 
 out, Alice ; they have surrounded the house." 
 
 " Well, my lord,'' said Lady Alice, starting to her feet ; " let us 
 arm I" 
 
 There was not the slightest shadow in the animation that sprang 
 into that beautiful face, not a speck in the coruscation that gleamed
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 295 
 
 from that dazzling eye ; and tlie commonest observer, though he 
 had had the heart of a coward and the judgment of a fool, could 
 have seen that the words which her lips had uttered expressed the 
 high resolve of her determined heart. Lord Walter stood mute, 
 gazing in her face, and the mediciner raised his hands and ej'es in 
 speechless wonder. 
 
 " We can perish together," exclaimed Lord Walter, as he took 
 his consort's hand. " But the house is well secured, and we may 
 hold out.'' 
 
 " Ay, my lord,'' cried Lady Alice. " The crafty priests, whose 
 lies have instigated this rabble to persecute me, even now that I 
 am no longer a meddler in politics, shall find me resolute to the 
 last." 
 
 She descended to the hall, where the domestics and retainers of 
 her husband had now assembled, and, like Zenobia of old, infused 
 new life into the dejected hearts of her array. The passionate 
 eloquence that flowed like music from her lips, and the resolute 
 tone in which it was delivered, fired the male portion of her hearers 
 with a firm determination to die in her defence ; and the females, 
 though they were affected even to tears by the pathos of her 
 speech, felt their hearts inspired with a manly fortitude. 
 
 In the meantime the insurgents without had commenced their 
 operations. The mediciner, who reconnoitred them from a loop- 
 hole by the side of the door, apprised Lord Walter that they had 
 raised the trunk of a felled tree, with which, as he conjectured, 
 they intended to force in the door. 
 
 " That must be prevented," cried Lord Walter. " Those who 
 have bows follow me." 
 
 About half-a-dozen of archers followed their master to the roof 
 of the house, M'hence they let fly their arrows among the concourse 
 below ; but, though they perceived that every arrow hit its mark, 
 their volley did not arrest the ti'ansportation of the beam with which 
 the door was to be forced. Lady Alice, however, had thought of 
 a more efFectvial expedient. She ordered two large boilers which 
 stood over the kitchen fire, and which were filled with boiling 
 water, to be conveyed to the roof, and just as the beam was drawn 
 back to be projjelled with greater violence against the door, the 
 scalding liquid was poured down on the besiegers. 
 
 The discordant yells that rose from the sufferers evinced the im- 
 pression which the administration of the boiling fluid had produced. 
 It was but momentary, however. The insurgents, rendered more 
 furious by the resistance which they had encountered, determined 
 to carry out their original design. The ponderous beam Avas again 
 uplifted ; the united strength of fifty men propelled it against the 
 door ; and the latter, though well secured with bolts and bars, 
 yielded to the resistless percussion. 
 
 In the expectation of this event. Lord Walter had ordered the 
 women of his household to ascend to the upper chambers. He
 
 296 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 posted his men on the stairs, where, with the niediciner, he took 
 up his own station. The stairs were at the further end of the hall, 
 and could be defended for a considerable time by a few men. 
 Lord Walter ranged his archers on the upper stairs, so that they 
 might loose their shafts over the heads of the partisans, or men- 
 at-arms, who were placed on the lower stairs, where, while the 
 archers were fitting their shafts and taking aim, they could annoy 
 their assailants with their long bills. 
 
 The insurgents now rushed into the hall. A party advanced to 
 tlie stairs, at the foot of which Lord Walter and the mediciner had 
 taken their stations ; and those who were armed with pikes made a 
 rush forwards, but the adroit manoeuvres of the partisans, seconded 
 by a well-directed volley from the archers, compelled them to 
 retire. Two of the ringleaders consulted together for a few mo- 
 ments, and, after whispering to some of the bystanders, demanded 
 a parley. 
 
 " What seek you ?" asked Lord Walter. 
 
 " We seek Alice Ferrers," answered the ringleader. 
 
 " She is here /" vociferated Lady Alice, as she sprang from the 
 landing-place to the top of the lower banister, and supported her- 
 self in this position by the balustrade of the upper one. " Slaves ! 
 Alice Ferrers mocks you !" 
 
 While Lady Alice looked over the heads of her husband's 
 retainers on the insurgents below, and waved her defiance at the 
 infuriate rabble, a party of the latter removed the fire from the 
 grate, and, with the help of the live fuel and some logs which 
 they added, kindled one in the centre of the hall. A loud yell 
 drew the attention of the besieged to this new danger, and the 
 stoutest of them was beginning to quail, and to talk of the pro- 
 priety of capitulating, when a shout of " Sancte Thomas of Can- 
 terbury and our fair city !" and the tramp of galloping steeds, was 
 heard without. 
 
 Master Cottle, Dick, and Master Simon, on reaching the house 
 of Master Fitzwarren, were informed that the mayor had ordered 
 all the citizens, save those who were incapacitated by age or debi- 
 lity, to assemble in arms, that evening, at the rendezvous of their 
 respective wards. The Tun, on Cornhill, was the place assigned 
 for the muster of that ward, and thither, at the hour of six, did 
 Dick and his two friends repair. All three of them were mounted ; 
 for Master Cottle, as he was looked upon by the younger citizens 
 as a person of the greatest consequence, had determined to make 
 his appearance in the field with a well appointed staff, and he had 
 therefore furnished his friends from his own stables. Ostentation 
 was a part of Master Cottle's character, but as he was a captain 
 of the ancient and honourable train-bands, and entertained some 
 secret apprehensions that not a few of his men had joined the 
 rebels, his ostentatious display of a lieutenant and aide-de-cauip 
 may be excused.
 
 :j1^x^/i/ ^ -TU. 
 
 '^^e 
 
 ^i^fA/uLH^/if //^f 'y//.H/y^^rn/^.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 297 
 
 " Ahaw ! ahaw !" he cried, as, on reaching the rendezvous, he 
 acknowledged tlie acclamations of his troop with the most approved 
 bows. 
 
 About two hundred men had mustered, but of these not one 
 half were mounted, and thev, being the beaux of the city, looked 
 up to Master Cottle as the ne plus ultra of chivalry. When, how- 
 ever, a buzz, which seemed to rise from a thousand mouths, though 
 none could say that he saw a speaker, attracted their eyes west- 
 ward, where the sky reflected the vivid glare of some tremendous 
 fire, as though the entire city were a prey to flames, not a few of 
 the city chivalry evinced a disposition to skulk. 
 
 " 'Tis the Duke's palace ! 'Tis the Savoy !" shouted a hundred 
 voices. " The rebels have fired it I They will fire the whole 
 city !" 
 
 " A mob lias attacked the house of Lord de Windsor," cried a 
 tremulous voice. 
 
 " Citizens, unsheathe your arms I" cried Master Cottle to his 
 troop. 
 
 " 'Tis no use. Master Cottle," shouted several voices. And 
 fifty others shouted, " 'Tis no use." 
 
 " Ahaw !" said Master Cottle. " Who is king of the bucks ?" 
 
 " Master Cottle !" replied his troop. 
 
 " Who is the redoubtable leader of the bachelors?" 
 
 " Master Cottle 1" 
 
 " Ahaw ! is it so ?" thundered Master Cottle. " Let the 
 cowards that cry 'tis no use, and refuse to follow me, disobey this 
 order — Stand to your arms I 
 
 Not a man disobeyed ; but Master Cottle, as he surveyed the 
 whole troop at a glance, did not express his approbation further 
 than by nodding his head. 
 
 " Forwards !" he cried, and clapping spurs to his horse, and 
 waving his sword over his head, he led the way. 
 
 A few minutes brought them before the residence of Lord de 
 Windsor; and the sudden appearance of such a well appointed 
 body of cavalry, and the well known war-cry of the London 
 youth — " Sancte Thomas of Canterbury for our fair city" — struck 
 a panic to the hearts of the insurgents. 
 
 Lord Walter de Windsor and the mediciner soon understood 
 how matters stood outside ; and Lady Alice, springing down from 
 the banister of the stairs, exhorted them to clear the hall. The 
 insurgents were about three thousand in number, and of these 
 nearly a hundred were in the hall ; but, though they scarcely 
 numbered a score, the adherents of Lord Walter, when assured 
 that they had allies at hand, did not hesitate to charge. Headed 
 by their illustrious leader, and animated by the cheering excla- 
 mations of his beautiful wife, they dashed impetuously forward, 
 and the rabble, being attacked on every side, and having no way 
 open for retreat, lost all spirit of resistance. In vain the cry for
 
 298 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 quarter was raised, in vain the rebel crouched before the upraised 
 axe, when Lady Alice, who had proved herself a heroine, shewed 
 that she was a woman also. 
 
 " De Windsor! have you turned bloodhound?" she cried, as 
 she arrested her husband's uplifted arm. " Has chivalry become 
 a butcher's craft? And yo, all of ye, hold!" she cried to the 
 partisans. " Would you strike such pitiful, crouching cov/ards as 
 these? Let them pass !" 
 
 " The citizens are without, gracious lady," cried the terrified 
 mob. 
 
 " I will bear your commands, lady, to the citizen captain," said 
 the mediciner, shocked at the sanguinary rage of the victors. 
 
 The insurgents expressed their gratitude in cheers, and made a 
 passage to the door for the mediciner, who succeeded in reaching 
 the side of Master Cottle. 
 
 " I can't listen to such a Christian doctrine, Sir Mediciner,'' said 
 Master Cottle. " But, to oblige Lady Alice, I'll give the dogs a 
 hundred yards headway, so that they may liave a chance." 
 
 " You are in a passion now," said the mediciner. " For God's 
 sake, shew mercy !" 
 
 " I was never in a passion in my life," replied Master Cottle. 
 " By Venus and Cupid I was I ? But, as thou speakest so earnestly, 
 I will only disperse them. Let them disperse straight." 
 
 Master Cottle accordingly drew back his troop, and, to their great 
 surprise and discontent, ordered them to refrain from the shedding 
 of blood, which a learned Jew, he said, had declared to be a viola- 
 tion of the Christian religion. After sometime, having succeeded 
 in dispersing the mob, he returned with his troop to the Tun, on 
 Cornhill, where, having divided the greater part of them into 
 patrols of four or iive, and, among others, dismissed Dick and 
 Master Simon, he usurped the headborough's easy chair, and 
 disposed himself for sleep. 
 
 The mediciner did not depart, that night, from the residence of 
 Lord Walter de Windsor. He was so earnestly solicited by Lady 
 Alice to remain, that though he longed to embrace his daughter 
 once more, he could not refuse. His presence greatly encouraged 
 the weary garrison, and liis council was of material service to 
 Lord Walter, who, in anticipation of another attack, caused a 
 barricade to be erected before the door, and made other defences, 
 which, however, subsequent events did not render necessary.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 299 
 
 CHAPTER IX.— THE KING. 
 
 OF THE MANNER IN WHICH HIS HIGHNESS KING RICHARD THE 
 SECOND ENCOUNTERED THE REBELS, AND OF THE LOYAL BEAR- 
 ING OF DICK WHITTINGTON. 
 
 The next morning shed the joyous splendour of summer over a 
 tumultuous and mob-ruled land. Red-handed anarchy and blatant 
 rebellion, sated with the blood which they had drunk during the 
 night, paused to breathe ; but while many a lovely and high-born 
 dame mourned the loss of her lord or her honour — while many an 
 aged and venerable man bewailed the assassination of his hopeful 
 son — while many a proud noble sighed over the ruins of his 
 fathers' halls, or wept over the corses of his innocent babes, or 
 fled, affrighted, from the daggers of his own vassals — while the 
 churchman prayed, the warrior quaked, and even the king's 
 mother, invaded in the sanctity of her bed-chamber, was grossly 
 insulted by a handful of armed ruffiansj and, while menaced with 
 their sacrilegious daggers, obliged to submit to the pollution of 
 their kisses — while rapine was rampant, religion defunct, and 
 royalty a bauble, history records that there were two hearts that 
 betrayed not a qualm of fear; and those two hearts, to whose 
 manly energy even the present generation owe a grateful plaudit, 
 animated the King of England and the Mayor of London. The 
 former was but a boy in years ; the latter, a simple merchant ; the 
 one was deserted by his nobles, the other, more fortunate, was 
 supported by the chief citizens. 
 
 But it is not Richard's manly fortitude, his daring intrepidity, 
 his royal clemency ; — it is not his manifestation of these qualities, 
 high and princely as they are, (and which the sad tale of his cruel 
 deposition and barbarous regicide thrust into bold relief,) that excite 
 our wonder ; for they were only natural in the Christian king and the 
 son of the Black Prince. The profound policy which, when age 
 was palsied with fear, characterized the conduct of the regal boy — 
 his cool determination ; the fearless eloquence of his speech ; his 
 quick perception, and instant seizure of favouring circumstances ; —
 
 300 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 it is the remembrance of these that, when they hear the catas- 
 trophe of his life, and reflect on the barbarity and perjury of his 
 successor, calls a loyal tear to the eye of posterity — and such a 
 tear does honour to Englishmen and to human kind ! 
 
 Having previously despatched a messenger to Jack Cade, the 
 leader of the Essex insurgents, soliciting a conference, the king, 
 accompanied by the Mayor of London and about a hundred horse- 
 men (chiefly knights and citizens), proceeded to Mile-end, where 
 Jack Cade's followers were encamped. The latter persons, 
 amazed at the courage, and affected by the condescension, of their 
 king, received him with joyous shouts; and on his promising to 
 forward them a royal charter, which should secure them their 
 original, and invest them with many new privileges, quietly dis- 
 persed to their respective homes. The king then returned to the 
 city ; and, after consulting with the mayor, sent a messenger to 
 Wat Tyler also, inviting him to a conference. But that arrogant 
 traitor, unwilling to relinquish the position to which his treason 
 liad elevated him, refused the gracious invitation ; for " he was 
 determined to drive off" the king and his councell (because he was 
 of greater force than they) with cavils and shifts till the next dale, 
 that in the night following he might the more easilie compass his 
 resolution, which was, having all the poorer sort of the citie on 
 his side, to have spoiled the citie, and to set fire in four corners of 
 it, killing first the king and the lords that were about him. But 
 He that resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble, 
 would not permit the ungratious devises of this naughtie and lewd 
 lord to take place." He sent word to the king that, before there 
 could be any peace between them, " he must put to death all 
 lawyers, escheaters, and others that had to do with the law ; for 
 his meaning was, that having made all those away that understood 
 the lawes, all things should then be ordered according to the will 
 and disposition of the common people. It was reported, indeed, 
 that he should say (with great pride) the day before these things 
 chanced, putting his hand to his lips, that in four dales all the 
 lawes of England should (?ome forthe of his mouth." 
 
 A second messenger was sent to the stubborn and obdurate 
 rebel, stating that, since he would not attend the king, the king 
 would attend him ; and Smithfield, which was Wat Tyler's head- 
 quarters, was named as the place of meeting. " Here," says Fitz- 
 stephen, " every Friday, unless it be a solemn bidden holyday, is a 
 notable show of horses to be sold. Earls, barons, knigiits, and 
 citizens, repair thither to see or to buy. There may you of plea- 
 sure see amblers pacing it delicately ; there may you see trotters, 
 fit for men-at-arms, setting more hardly ; there may you have 
 notable young horses, not yet broken ; may you have strong 
 steeds, which the buyers do especially regard for pace or swift- 
 ness." 
 
 Having arrived at Smithfield, and taken his stand opposite to
 
 DICK WHTTTINGTON. 301 
 
 the rebels, the king sent Sir John Newton, a cavalier of distinction, 
 to desire Wat Tyler, who stood close by, to draw nearer. 
 
 " Darest thou to address me with tliy head covered?" replied 
 Wat Tyler, fiercely. " I will have thy head off, sirrah, if thou 
 dost not unbonnet." 
 
 " Vile ribald !" said Sir John, " I would rather spit my tongue 
 in thy face than give thee even a courteous word." 
 
 " Dog !" roared Wat Tyler, raising his rapier. 
 
 " Hold, sirs !" cried the king, who was v/ithin hearing of what 
 had passed. " And you, Sir John, remove your beaver. You are 
 in my presence, you know. Bold man," he continued, addrts^ng 
 Wat Tyler, " approach your king !" 
 
 Wat Tyler, under the influence of an involuntary impulse, moved 
 forwards ; but instead of removing his bonnet, or paying the 
 slightest mark of respect to his sovereign, he turned his back to 
 him, and, pointing to the rebellious multitude, said, " That is the 
 king that I acknowledge — the sovereignty of the people." 
 
 " Sire," said the Mayor of London, " will your highness permit 
 such discourse as this ?" 
 
 "What am I to do, faithful Walworth?" replied the king, 
 liandling the hilt of his sword. 
 
 " Command his arrest," said the mayor, boldly. 
 
 " Foul and damned dog !" cried Wat Tyler, " darest thou speak 
 of arresting me ?" 
 
 " I command him to attach thee, traitor !'' replied the king. 
 
 Wat Tyler drew his rapier, and raised it over the king's head, 
 but, before he could strike, the mayor sprang forwards, and, smiting 
 him with his heavy mace, knocked him from his horse. At the 
 same moment " John Standish, an esquier, and divers more of the 
 king's servants, drew their swords, and thrust him through in 
 divers parts of his bodie." 
 
 " Our captain is traitorously slain," shouted the mob, perceiving 
 the condition of their leader. " Let us stand together, and die 
 ■with him. Let us shoot, and revenge his death manfullie '' 
 
 " The king, shewing both hardihood and wisdom at that instant, 
 more than his age required (he was in his 16th year), set spurs to 
 his horse, and rode to them, saying : — 'What is the matter, my 
 men ? What mean you ? Will you shoot at your king ? Be not 
 troubled nor offended at the death of a traitor and ribald ! Follov/ 
 me into the fields, and you shall have all that you can desire.' " 
 
 " Hold, sire ! prithee, hold !" cried the mayor, detaining the 
 king. 
 
 <' We will have life for life," shouted the mob, levelling their 
 bows. " You have traitorousl}'^ slain our leader." 
 " Shoot at me, then !" replied the king. 
 
 " Let's hear what he has to say," cried some of the mob, awed 
 by the king's undaunted bearing. 
 
 '' Prithee, your highness, trust them not," implored the mayor.
 
 302 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " Get thee gone, my trusty Walworth," returned the king ; " 'tis 
 my last expedient. Commend me, I prithee, to my poor mother ; 
 and take thy king's benediction for thyself.'' 
 
 The mayor looked in the face of the regal speaker ; and as he 
 turned away, and the big tears rolled down his cheek, it suddenly 
 occurred to him that he would once more endeavour to raise the 
 citizens. While, therefore, the king, almost unattended, pushed 
 in among the multitude, the mayor clapped spurs to his horse, and 
 galloped off to the city. 
 
 Meanwhile, affairs in the city had begun to assume a more pro- 
 mising aspect. The intrepid deportment of the king, and the 
 quiet manner in which he had dispei'sed the Essex insurgents, had 
 awakened the principal citizens to a sense of their own power ; and 
 several of the nobility, who had blocked themselves up in their 
 mansions, began to appear abroad, and to meditate a union of 
 their forces. 
 
 At this crisis. Hob Carter, one of Wat Tyler's lieutenants, 
 entered Cheapsicle, attended by about five thousand men, whom 
 he brought to a halt at Cheapside Cross. Finding the street 
 deserted, and all the shops closed, he ordered one of his minions 
 to summon the denizens forth, and threatened, if they did not 
 obey, to fire the city. None, however, paid any attention to this 
 threat ; and Hob Carter, enraged at their contumacy, forthwith 
 ordered the work of destruction to commence. The doors of 
 many of the houses were soon forced. The inmates — men, 
 women, and children, were dragged foi'th, and, amidst the exulting 
 yells of the spectators, carried to the adjacent scaffold, where they 
 were indiscriminately butchered. The gutters of the street ran 
 with human blood ; the shrieks of the women, as they were led to 
 the place of execution, or, previous to their decapitation, exposed 
 to the barbarous insults of the inhuman rabble ; the cries of 
 infants, torn from the bosoms of their frantic mothers, or haply 
 roused from some dream of heaven, to have their brains dashed 
 out on the pavement, or their little hearts pierced with gory 
 poniards ; the last prayers of aged and venerable citizens, as they 
 bared their necks to the ruthless axe, and washed the bloody 
 block with their tears, would have instilled a chivalrous spirit into 
 the heart of a coward. 
 
 It was while these dire events were in progress, that some of 
 the chief citizens began to muster at the Tun, on Cornhill. 
 Master Cottle had remained there throughout the previous night, 
 and, early in the morning, had exerted himself to re-assemble his 
 troop. For reasons which have already been explained, and 
 which had elevated him to the titular dignity of " king of the 
 bucks," Master Cottle possessed greater influence with the young 
 men of the city than did the mayor himself, and on the present 
 occasion, when the authority of the latter seemed to be defunct, 
 he enforced his influence with the most absolute and poremptorj'
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 303 
 
 commands. His staff — constituted by Dick, Simon Racket, Fitz- 
 warren, and the mediciner — were as active and resolute as himself; 
 and the consequence was, as Master Simon Racket observed, that 
 their perseverance accomplished many things, and placed their 
 troop on a most respectable footing. Towards noon, indeed, 
 Master Cottle had mustered nearly a hundred horsemen, whom he 
 was forming into order before the Tun, and exhorting to vindicate 
 the integrity of the laws, when a scout apprised him of the state 
 of matters in Cheapside. 
 
 " Citizens," cried Master Cottle, with unusual vehemence, " the 
 rebels have fired Cheapside. They have massacred the aged and 
 helpless ; and plundered the widow and orphan. Are you terri- 
 fied at their numbers ? Do you doubt the providence of Heaven ? 
 Will you, at a word, follow your leader ?" 
 
 A loud and unanimous " Ay,'' burst from the assembly. 
 
 " Forward, then !" vociferated Master Cottle. " Sancte Thomas 
 to the rescue !'' 
 
 The whole troop were instantly in motion ; and with their naked 
 rapiers in their right hands, and the war-cry of their native city on 
 their lips, they dashed into Cheapside. As they galloped along, 
 shouting their war-cry at the pitch of their voices, the casements 
 of the houses on either side were thrown open, and many an 
 anxious face thrust out to review them. The shout of " Sancte 
 Thomas to the rescue !" chorused by so many gallant hearts, 
 seemed to electrify the hitherto inert citizens ; and while the fe- 
 males raised their hands and voices to Heaven, and prayed for 
 their success, the men betook themselves to their weapons, 
 and sallied forth to the Tvin. Hither Lord Walter de Windsor 
 had now arrived, followed by about twenty partisans, three 
 of whom were mounted. His lordship was soon joined by the 
 Earl of Hereford, Sir Herbert de Pye, Master Henry Sinclair, 
 Hubert Cromwell, the gaunt falconer, and about fifty partisans, 
 ai'med to the teeth. Parties of four or five, attended by a trum- 
 peter, were dispatched into every street in the eastern section of 
 the city ; and the trumpeter, after he had blown an alarum, or, as 
 it is technically termed, the assembly-call, summoned the citizens 
 forth to the Tun, whither, he said, " all true lieges were straight 
 to hasten in arms." 
 
 In the meantime, the insurgents in Cheapside were perpetrating 
 the most extravagant excesses. Not content with stripping the 
 marts of the merchants who resided in that locality of their costly 
 wares, and appropriating the golden spoil to themselves, they 
 tossed the domestic furniture from the casements into the centre 
 of the street, and, having accumulated it in heaps, set it on fire. 
 Casks of ale and wine were then hoisted from the cellars of the 
 unhappy denizens, most of whom had fallen beneath the axe or 
 the sword ; and the rebels, satiated with blood, and fatigued with 
 the labour of crime, hurried on to intoxication.
 
 304 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 It was a scene for the painter, not the historian, to portraj'. 
 The wild and ferocious countenances of the rebels, smeared with 
 blood, and blackened with smoke and grime ; their uncouth and 
 varied figures, rude, but picturesque attire, and novel and dripping 
 weapons; the bloody hands which, after they had quaifed their 
 intoxicating draught, they drew over their bearded lips ; the fires 
 in the centre of the street ; the streaming scaff"old ; the desecrated 
 cross ; the casks whence wine and ale flowed into the crimson 
 gutters ; the corpses that lay stiffening in the sun ; the occasional 
 groups who, under the influence of wine, were already quarrelling 
 among themselves — these features formed a tableau which the 
 painter might embody, but which the pen cannot describe. 
 
 There rose a sudden cry of terror, a shout of rescue, a tramp of 
 cavalry, a neighing of steeds, a blowing of horns ; and, surprised 
 and dismayed, the rebels rushed to the side of their leader. Hob 
 Carter knew well that he could not hope to make a stand against 
 cavalry ; and, therefore, as Master Cottle and his force drew nigh, 
 he turned his horse's head, and, plunging his spurs into the animal's 
 side, endeavoured to make good his own retreat. But this his fol- 
 lowers would not suff'er. 
 
 " Hold him ! — the dastard !" cried a hundred voices. " Give 
 him up to the worshipful citizens!" 
 
 " On them, my hearts I" shouted Master Cottle to his men. 
 " Let our watchword be « revenge !' " 
 
 "Hold, masters!'' vociferated a horseman, as he pushed his 
 steed through the panic-stricken insurgents. " On to Smithfield, 
 and aid the king ! Wat Tyler is slain !" 
 
 " Three cheers for our brave mayor I" cried Master Cottle ; 
 and, while the citizens responded in three hearty cheers, a buzz of 
 terror arose from the insurgents. 
 
 Preceded by Master Cottle and Dick, who opened the way with 
 their swords, the citizens pushed on to Smithfield ; and the mayor, 
 in the hope that he might be able to raise the entire city, galloped 
 on to Cornhill. Nearly six hundred armed men, including manj'' 
 noblemen and knights, had now congregated in the area round the 
 Tun ; and auxiliaries, many of whom were mounted, were con- 
 tinually pouring in. Befoi^e this array, the mayor drew up, and 
 (to quote the words of Hollinshed) addressed them thus: — 
 
 '''Oh, ye good and virtuous citizens! come forth, out of 
 hand, and help your king, ready to be slain ; and help me, your 
 mayor, standing in the same peril ; or if ye will not help me, for 
 some faults committed by me against you, yet forsake not your 
 king, but help and succour him in his present danger.' 
 
 The tears ran down the good man's cheeks as he delivered this 
 simple and pathetic oration, which drew tears from many of his 
 audience ; but the shout of " Lead us on !" that issued from every 
 mouth, and the forest of weapons that rose in the air, turned his 
 grief into loyal transport.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 305 
 
 *' Follow !'' he shouted ; and, tui'ning his horse's liead, he pre- 
 ceded the citizens to the rescue of their king. 
 
 The latter august personage was, indeed, in a perilous situation ; 
 but though his attendants did not number twenty, and he and they 
 were surrounded by an infuriate multitude, his courage and deci- 
 sion suffered no abatement. Undaunted by their yells, and exposing 
 his person to their levelled darts, he rode in among them, and 
 desired to be made acquainted with their demands. 
 
 *' Wherefore, my good subjects," he cried, " do ye appear thus 
 in arms ? Beshrew the day, I say, that ribalds and traitors led my 
 true lieges against their poor prince !" 
 
 " Whom call ye ribalds and traitors?"' demanded one of the 
 ringleaders. 
 
 " Thou, and such as thou,'' cried Sir John Newton, pushing 
 forward his steed. 
 
 " Beshrew thy heart, thou lying tyrant !" cried the other, " I 
 will have thy life." 
 
 " Well said, stout Whittington 1" shouted several of the rabble. 
 
 " Nay, hold, siri'ah !'* said the king, interposing his steed be- 
 tween Sir John and Whittington, both of whom had raised their 
 rapiers. " If ye dare strike against my bidding, both of ye are 
 traitors. Put up your rapier, Sir John ; and run us not into fur- 
 ther difficulty." 
 
 " Stand aside, proud boy!" cried Whittington, "and thrust not 
 thy vain authority between armed men. Stand aside, I say !" 
 
 " Beseech your highness," implored Sir John Newton, " let me 
 chastise this presumptuous ribald." 
 
 *' Stand aside !'.' cried Whittington to the king ; and several 
 other ringleaders, pushing up to the front, echoed, '' Stand aside !" 
 
 '' Close round his higliness, gallants !" cried Sir John Newton, 
 raising his heavy battle-axe as he pushed before the king. 
 
 The king's attendants, following the example of Sir John, 
 gathered round their august master ; and the rebel ringleaders, 
 thinking that they were about to cut a passage through the throng, 
 also sprang forwards ; but at this instant Master Cottle and his 
 troop galloped into the field. 
 
 " Treachery ! treachery !" cried the el Whittington. 
 
 Before he could speak another word, Sir John ^Tewton attacked 
 him, and the remainder of the king's servants, emboldened by the 
 vicinity of succour, rushed on the other rii.j^'. aders. In vain the 
 king commanded them to desist; and just as Master Cottle, at the 
 head of his troop, attained the spot. Sir John Newton clove the 
 skull of the elder Whittington in twain. 
 
 " God !" ejaculated Master Simon, '"' he has slain Dick's father." 
 
 " Which is my father?" cried Dick. 
 
 " Rescue ! rescue for the king!" shouted the mediciner, shaking 
 his arm.
 
 306 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " My father I my father !" groaned Dick. 
 
 But he was hurried on into the thick of the fight, where, though 
 torn with conflicting emotions, and suffering the most acute 
 anguish, he was obliged, in self-preservation, to bestir himself ; 
 and it may as well be observed here, since it is probable that 
 another opportunity will not occur, that he never discovered the 
 body of his unhappy parent, who, as he deserved, died the death 
 of the traitor. His fall, however, seemed likely to be the prelude 
 to a greater efl'usion of blood. A rumour was spread among the 
 multitude, whom the arrival of Master Cottle's troop had intimi- 
 dated, that the Duke of Lancaster, who was then in Scotland, 
 was marching thither with a large army, and that he had sworn to 
 exterminate them all. Resolved to sell their lives as dearly as they 
 could, yet not knowing how to proceed, they gathered round their 
 ringleaders, and waited the attack of the royal party, whom, as 
 soon as he could make himself heard, the king had ordered to re- 
 frain from violence. 
 
 " What is that shouting ?" asked the king of Sir John Newton. 
 " God grant your highness long life !" replied Sir John. "Here 
 are your good lieges come to your aid." 
 
 And as Sir John spoke, and a cry of terror arose from the 
 insurgents, nearly a thousand armed men appeared in sight. The 
 next moment William Walworth, the mayor, galloped up to the 
 king. 
 
 " My faithful liege !'' cried the king, extending his hand. 
 " My sovereign lord I" said Walworth, as he kissed the king's 
 hand. " God save thee, sire ! The rebels are blocked in. All the 
 outlets from the field are securely guarded. What is your further 
 pleasure, mighty Sir?" 
 
 " My further pleasure," said the king, '< is to reward thee, and, 
 in rewarding thee, to raise a memorial of thy loyalty for ever. 
 Henceforth, citizens, your mayor shall be called Lord Mayor ; 
 and the first who bears that dignity is the faithfullest sir that king 
 ever had." He raised his sword as he spoke, and striking William 
 Walworth on the back, continued : — " Hail, Sir William Walworth, 
 banneret, first Lord Mayor of London I" 
 
 An involuntary spasm crept over Dick's frame : — he remembered 
 the prediction of Old Bow Bells. 
 
 " And now," continued the king, addressing the insurgents, 
 " we pardon all of ye, our poor, deluded subjects. Haste ye away 
 to your homes. Hearken not again to the evil council of ribalds 
 and traitors, for ye see no good comes of such doings. Our par- 
 liament, whom we will straightway summon, shall be advertised of 
 your grievances, and, holpen by their wisdom, we will redress 
 them. Get ye away, now, from our city I" 
 
 "God save king Richard I" cried ten thousand voices; and 
 amidst the acclamations of his subjects, and attended by a guard
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 307 
 
 of noble gentlemen, the king quitted the field, and hastened to the 
 presence of his mother, 
 
 Dick remained to assist in the dispersion of the mob, who, in 
 due course, were entirely cleared from the city. It was morning 
 when he returned to the house of his master, whither, during the 
 night, persons had arrived, of whom some account will be furnished 
 in tlve succeeding chapter.
 
 308 THE MFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER X.— THE MICE. 
 
 WHAT FELL OUT IN THE KINGDOM OF ALGIERS, WHITHER THE GOOD 
 
 SHIP '' unicorn" had sailed. 
 
 The voyage of the bark " Unicorn" was unvaried by any inci- 
 dent deserving of remark till it had passed through the Straits into 
 the Mediterranean sea. Master Cobbs then kept to the coast of 
 Spain, not only to avoid the Algerine corsairs, who then abounded 
 in that sea, but for the purpose of carrying on a traffic with the 
 Spaniards, which he did with advantage. At length he reached 
 Cape de Gatte — a locality, be it observed, that seamen never 
 mention without a curse — and here, like most people, he was be- 
 calmed. Nearly a month elapsed, during which the scurvy made 
 its appearance on board, and not a breath of wind ruffled the sea. 
 There lay the good ship " Unicorn," within a dozen miles of the 
 shore, which raised its lofty blackhead into mid air — there she lay, 
 broiling in the summer sun, with the clear, cerulean sky above, 
 and the black-blue ocean around ; and when, at night — such nights 
 as they have there ! — the weary mariner turned his sickly eye on 
 the shore, where little dots of light, scattered here and there over 
 the face of the mountain, gleamed like stars, — when the heavy 
 ship rolled in the dead calm, and incipient disease convulsed his 
 breast and tongue, then he would think of home — of bonny old 
 England — and its fogs and firesides. 
 
 One midnight, after they had been nearly a month in the situation 
 specified, two persons were pacing the deck of the rolling bark. One 
 of them, whose appearance had not the slightest characteristic of the 
 seaman, was a short, portly person, whose wrinkled face bespoke 
 a vicinity to his sixtieth year. He had once, one would have in- 
 ferred from his features, been a comfortable sort of person, and 
 there was still a scintillation of humour in his eye, though cor- 
 rected, in a way that cannot be described, by a timidity of glance, 
 which might indicate a tame spirit.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 309 
 
 " Pleasant place this, Master Cobbs," he said, addressing the 
 person with whom he was walking. " It's a pity one doesn't feel 
 comfortable." 
 
 " There are slight puffs of wind now and then," returned 
 Master Cobbs ; " and 1 hope, before morning, to make a good 
 offing." 
 
 " We will need to be soon among the Moors," said the other. 
 " The crew are touched with this cursed scurvy ; and, by'rLady, I 
 begin to fear for myself." 
 
 " You fear, Williams ?" rejoined Master Cobbs ; " nay, nay, 
 gossip, you are purveyor ; and while there is a draught of canary 
 aboard, I doubt not that you will drown fear." 
 
 " r faith," replied Master Williams, " I begin to fancy tliat the 
 canary will not last till we reach port. But, holy dome !" he con- 
 tinued, halting abruptly, " here comes the wind at last." 
 
 " Thank Heaven I" cried Cobbs, " the wind is indeed rising." 
 
 Roused from their decumbent posture by this news, ever the 
 most welcome to a sailor's ear, three of the crew, who had been 
 laying down on the deck, sprang to their feet, and, in obedience to 
 Master Cobbs' orders to that effect, hastened to trim the sails. 
 The ship was soon moving, at the rate of two or three knots an 
 hour ; and as the lights aforementioned receded from the sight, 
 and the black outline of the coast became less distinct, the inspi- 
 rited mariners gave three feeble cheers. Towards morning, how- 
 ever, the wind lulled, and at daylight the Unicorn was again 
 becalmed. 
 
 " That ship looks suspicious," remarked Master Cobbs, as he 
 and Williams ascended to the deck at daylight, and discovered a 
 sail at some distance astern. 
 
 " But you can have no fear of the corsairs ?" returned Williams. 
 
 " Not if I were bound homeward," replied Master Cobbs, "for 
 then I would have a pass from the Dey of Algiers. Nevertheless, 
 as 1 am open to an attack till I reach Algiers, I should like to avoid 
 them at present." 
 
 " Thank Heaven !" exclaimed Master Williams, '' they are be- 
 calmed as well as we." 
 
 " Ay," cried Cobbs, with his eyes fixed on the stranger sail ; 
 '' but mark you not the bustle that prevails on board ? I' faith, 
 they are lowering their boats." 
 
 " Then we must need surrender," returned Williams. 
 
 " Nay," said Cobbs, " we will sell our lives as dearly as we can. 
 Death before slavery. Is't not so, my hearts ?" he added, address- 
 ing his crew, who, anxious to hear his opinion of the suspicious 
 craft, had congregated round him. 
 
 " We'll fight to the last, noble captain !'' they shouted unani- 
 mously. 
 
 Just as the crew thus expressed their determination, and hastened 
 to arm themselves, four boats were lowered from the vessel astern,
 
 310 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 which straightway displayed the crescented flag in her mizen. 
 There was now no doubt of its piratical character, and some of 
 Master Cobbs' men were taking leave of each other, and others, 
 less hardy, were offering a maiden petition to Heaven, when the 
 boats of the strange ship were suddenly hoisted up again. 
 
 " All hands shorten sail !" cried Master Cobbs, who, though he 
 had been watching the proceedings of the pirate, detected a white 
 vapour on the horizon, which appearance, as he had been in those 
 waters before, he knew to be portentous. 
 
 Before the pirate, who had also noticed this precursor of a squall, 
 could take in his canvas, the squall had reached him ; and splitting 
 his mainsail into tatters, and bending his rakish masts like reeds, it 
 drove his vessel at a fui'ious rate over the agitated sea. Almost at 
 the same moment it reached the Unicorn, which, though her sails 
 were all furled, sped like a feather before it. The masts seemed 
 ready to go by the board ; and several of the minor spars, though 
 of stout Norway fir, snapped in the centre. Away dashed the good 
 ship Unicorn ! Mountain after mountain, trough after trough — 
 she rushed on, over and down, pitching and tossing, now ascending 
 to the sky and then diving to the deep, yet, as a well-trained steed 
 obeys the rein of its rider, yielding her strength to the hand of the 
 helmsman. The squall, as frequently happens in the Mediterra- 
 nean, turned to a furious gale, which lasted throughout the suc- 
 ceeding night. Towards morning, however, the weather became 
 more calm ; and the wind, which, though it had considerably abated, 
 still continued fresh, veered round to a favourable point. 
 
 " There is that infernal corsair again,'' cried Master Cobbs, as 
 the rising sun spread its lustre over the orient. " She is on our 
 lee-bow just now ; and, by my faith, she will soon be up with us. 
 
 " I wish we were once more off that eternal Cape," ejaculated 
 Master Williams, with chattering teeth. " Howbeit, since we must 
 fight, let's to it, my hearts !" 
 
 And Master Williams, watching his opportunity, stole down the 
 companion-ladder, and repaired straightway to the ship's hold, 
 where, in company with Dick's cat, who had the guardianship of 
 that sub-marine locality, he stowed himself away. 
 
 The corsair, almost as soon as Master Cobbs espied her, made 
 all sail, and bore down on the Unicorn. The latter, though a 
 fast vessel, soon shewed her inability to race with such a rakish- 
 built ship as the corsair, who, to use the language of seamen, 
 " walked round her," and thus overhauled her capabilities of 
 resistance. She then bore up alongside, and her captain, who 
 stood with a speaking trumpet on her quarter-deck, hailed Master 
 Cobbs in Italian, though lingua Franca was then, as it is still, 
 the general medium of communication between Europeans and 
 Moors. 
 
 " Che hastimento e quelle, e dove va ?" vociferated the corsair, 
 as his ship rushed past.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 311 
 
 He was almost out of hearing before Master Cobbs could 
 reply — " U Unicorno, che parti per Algieio." 
 
 Again, however, he bore up alongside, and while Master Cobbs 
 and his crew leaned over the bulwarks, in expectation that he 
 would again hail them, he poured a whole broadside into the 
 Unicorn. Under cover of the smoke, and the amazement which 
 his unexpected treacherj' occasioned, he lowered two boats, filled 
 with armed men, who, while he sailed round to the lee-bow of the 
 Unicorn, and discharged another broadside, boarded her on the 
 weather-quarter, unperceived by the crew. The struggle was 
 desperate but brief; and Master Cobbs and seven of his crew, 
 who were all that survived, were soon driven beneath the hatches, 
 which were instantly fastened down. The corsairs then altered 
 the Unicorn's course, which had been S.E., and steered S.S.E., 
 for Bergia, of which port, having the wind right aft throughout 
 the passage, they came in sight on the following evening. 
 
 It was nearlj' dark, however, before the castle, which stands at 
 the extremity of the mole of the harbour, could be distinguished 
 as a landmark, and Master Cobbs, who, with his compatriots, had 
 been brought on deck, and laden with manacles, perceived that the 
 corsairs were half-inclined to stand out to sea again. But the 
 moon rose in Ionian splendour, and, no longer apprehensive of 
 stumbling on the shoals which there abound, the corsairs stood 
 into the capacious bay. They passed the strong castle, which, 
 till England's wooden walls appeared before it, was considered 
 impregnable ; and made straight for the mouth of the silvery 
 Major, where they anchored. 
 
 Master Cobbs stood in the gangway, with his hands manacled, 
 and his feet inclosed in fetters ; but, dejected and forlorn though 
 he was, he could not help rising above material existence, and 
 likening his term of probation to the revolutions of a dream, as he 
 gazed on the quiescent scene around. And when you are standing 
 alone beneath the calm light of an African moon, and looking on 
 an African mountain and bay and town, there will insensibly 
 steal over you an indifference to the brightest prospects of life, 
 and the spirit of love, and of faith in the God of love, will elevate 
 you above the vicissitudes of fortune, and place you beyond the 
 grapple of sorrow. And thus it fell with Master Cobbs — " the 
 English patrician and the Christian slave I' 
 
 " Ho you !" said the chief corsair, as the ship came to anchor. 
 " You were the captain of this vessel ?" 
 
 " Ay," replied Cobbs. 
 
 " You are now a slave," grinned the corsair. " Knock off his 
 fetters,'' he added, addressing one of his men ; " but leave his 
 manacles on. Then, toss him and his men into the boat." 
 
 A boat was lowered, and Master Cobbs and his surviving crew, 
 including the timid Williams, were tossed into it, when Dick's cat, 
 who, as all animals invariably do on ship-board, had become re-
 
 812 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 markably familiar with hei' old entertainers, sprang from the 
 gangway on to Master Cobbs' shoulders. This incident raised a 
 laugh among the corsairs, who did not seem to be versed in the 
 natural history of the agile quadruped, and when Master Cobbs 
 pulled her down from his shoulders, and folded her in his arms, 
 they offered him no interruption. The captives, that night, were 
 lodged in the prison of the town ; and on the next morning, after 
 they had been paraded in the market, were disposed of to an agent 
 of the dey, and removed to Constantina. 
 
 The dey, though he rarely visited that city, had a palace and 
 garden in Constantina; and in this garden, exposed to the scorch- 
 ing sun of Africa, Master Cobbs and his comrades passed the 
 entire day. At night they were lodged together in a dormitory, 
 of which their taskmaster kept the key, and their disposition, they 
 thought, was so far fortunate, as besides the comfort which they 
 derived from each other, Dick's cat was their fellow-prisoner, and, 
 though the country swarmed with rats and mice, she zealously 
 defended them against muscipular invasion. Their taskmaster, 
 too, soon began to relax the severity of his rule, particularly to 
 Master Cobbs, whom he seldom suffered to undergo toil ; but 
 week after week, month after month, year after year, passed away, 
 and they were still slaves. One evening, when their captivity had 
 endured about six years, Master Cobbs was beckoned aside by the 
 taskmaster, who led him into a secluded part of the garden. He 
 was one of the Biscaris, or a native of Zaab, a district behind 
 Mount Atlas, whicli people, during the rule of the deys, were fre- 
 quently employed in offices of trust by the Algerine government. 
 
 " Signore," he said, " I have often thought you and I have met 
 before. Were you ever in Algiers ?" 
 
 "Ay," replied Cobbs, " I was some time a slave, and, after- 
 wards a friend, of the dey, Selim Pacha." 
 
 The Biscari elevated his eyebrows and hands. " And think you 
 the dey has forgotten you ?'' 
 
 " Nay," cried Cobbs, " I think otherwise. But he never comes 
 hither ; I may grow old in slavery before I encounter him." 
 
 " Fear not," replied the Biscari, after a pause. " We will fly 
 together to-night. I will be your guide. Signore, be ready to 
 depart when I summon you forth." 
 
 They parted ; and Master Cobbs, without imparting the subject 
 to any one of his fellow-captives, waited anxiously for the Biscaris 
 coming. At length, about midnight, he heard the key turned in 
 the door of the dormitory, and proceeding thither on tip-toe, was 
 greeted with a cordial grasp by the Biscari, who straightway led 
 him forth. 
 
 They came out on a gallery before the house, whence they des- 
 cended a flight of wooden stairs, leading to the back court of the 
 palace. This part of the building, whicli was occupied by the 
 wives of deceased deys, was held sacred by the natives ; and
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 313 
 
 to be found there at that hour, or, indeed, at any hour, would 
 have been considered a capital crime. It was well guarded by the 
 functionaries of the seraglio ; and a company of Turkish soldiers, 
 to whom the custody of the rest of the palace was consigned, were 
 within hail. Our fugitives, however, stole along, without interrup- 
 tion, in the shadow of the main building, and at length arrived at 
 a low wall, bounding one side of the court. Master Cobbs, being 
 the tallest, stooped down, in order that the Biscari might mount 
 from his back to the top of the wall, and the latter person had just 
 sprung on his back, and clutched the summit of the wall with his 
 right hand, when two Turkish soldiers rushed forth from behind an 
 adjacent buttress. Quick as light the Biscari drew a long knife from 
 his vest, and, springing down from the wall, he toppled over one of 
 the Turks, whom, as they struggled on the ground, he thrust through 
 the heart. Master Cobbs, though unarmed, encountered the other, 
 from whose first onset he skipped aside ; but his energies, which 
 his age and hard life had materially weakened, were no match for 
 those of his adversary, and he was just falling when he was rescued 
 by the Biscari. Befoie the Turk could turn round the Biscari's 
 knife had rendered him powerless. 
 
 The fugitives now resumed their purpose of climbing the wall, 
 which they soon cleared, and alighted in the stable yard. This 
 was not inclosed, and but carelessly guarded, as it was without the 
 precincts of the palace ; but they still crept along in the shadow of 
 the wall, whence they did not emerge till they reached the stables. 
 The Biscari opened one of the stables with a master-key, which 
 unlocked all the outhouses, and which he possessed in virtue of his 
 office as taskmaster ; and they entered together. They chose two 
 steeds, whom, as the Biscari knew where to look for the harness, 
 they had no difficulty in equipping; and having led them out, 
 they set forth on their journey. 
 
 They travelled on till dawn, when, as they fancied that they 
 were beyond the reach of pursuit, they paused to refresh their 
 horses. In a short time, however, they resumed their journey ; 
 and after four hours' hard riding, though the distance was nearly 
 thirty miles, arrived before the gates of the city of Algiers. 
 
 Just as they entered the city the dey was proceeding to the 
 Bajazct mosque. Our fugitives, however, continued their journey 
 up the street, being so excited by the peril of their situation, and 
 so anxious to reach the palace of the dey, that they did not notice 
 the soldiers who were shouting to them to stop. The soldiers, 
 enraged at their seeming contumacy, seized them, when the Bis- 
 cari, calling to their captain, demanded to be led before the dey, to 
 whom, he declared, he had matter of moment to impart. At this 
 moment the dey came in sight, and seeing the Biscari struggling 
 with his guards, and being apprised of what that person had said, 
 commanded him and Master Cobbs to be brought before him. 
 
 " Chief of the faithful !'" cried the Biscari, springing from his
 
 314 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 horse, and prostrating himself before the dey, '* let thy mighty 
 foot crush thy slave I But in yon Christian, O favourite of Allah ! 
 behold one that thou didst once call friend I He is now thy slave, 
 for -wondrous are the trials of man, and Allah, thy father, is 
 great I" 
 
 Master Cobbs, who had dismounted directly the dey came in 
 sight, now approached, and, kneeling on one knee before the dey, 
 bent his head on his breast. 
 
 " High signore," he said, " behold in me the captive that you 
 once franchised without ransom — the English noble, once more a 
 slave." He raised his head as he continued "I am Sir Henry 
 Sinclair, your highness." 
 
 The dey looked steadfastly in his face, as though he would 
 recal long-forgotten features, and associate them with revived and 
 pleasing reminiscences. " My brother 1 my brother 1" he exclaim- 
 ed at length, as he bowed down from his saddle, and threw his 
 arms round the supplicant's neck. " Do I live to embrace thee 
 once again ? Allah is great!" 
 
 The dey looked once more in Master Cobbs's face, and then, 
 having given orders that he should be led to the royal palace, and 
 furnished with apparel befitting his real rank, proceeded to the 
 mosque. As soon as he had performed his devotions he hastened 
 back to his palace, and summoned Master Cobbs, who was now 
 arrayed in princely attire, to attend him. 
 
 " Signore," he said, as Master Cobbs presented himself, " thou 
 must need be weary. Refresh thyself, and, when we have finished 
 our repast, thou canst tell me how thy late ills have chanced." 
 
 Master Cobbs expressed his grateful acknowledgments ; and, 
 in company with the dey and his principal officers, sat down to a 
 sumptuous repast. No sooner, however, had the covers been 
 removed from the several dishes, than, allured by the smell of the 
 savoury viands, a multitude of mice rushed into the apartment, 
 and, overturning a Mahomedan butler, dashed in among the 
 dishes, which, according to Mussulman custom, were set out on 
 the floor. To Master Cobbs' amazement, however, no serious 
 uproar ensued, nor did the onset of the mice, however unbecom- 
 ing, appear at all strange in the eyes of the court, for, as Master 
 Cobbs afterwards discovered, the whole country was overrun with 
 those rapacious animals; and "in one island," writes Doctor 
 Wanley, in his elaborate History of Man, " the inhabitants were 
 forced by rats and mice to fly away." The dey and his courtiers, 
 nevertheless, did not remain quiescent ; but springing to their 
 feet, and drawing forth their scimitars, charged the invaders with 
 considerable spirit. The perspiration streamed down his face as 
 the dey, after the mice had been completely routed, again seated 
 himself at his soup. 
 
 " 1 have an animal under my care," said Master Cobbs, " who 
 would soon rid your highness of this annoyance."
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 315 
 
 The dey stared inquisitively in the speaker's face. " I know 
 you for a man of truth," he said, at length. " I will have your 
 ship restored to you, and your goods, even as they were brought 
 hither; but if you have such a wondrous animal as this you speak 
 of, and it be not above price, I will make you rich indeed." 
 
 " Were the brute mine, my lord," replied Cobbs, " I would 
 accept nothing ; but it belongs to a poor orphan, whose only pos- 
 session it is." 
 
 " He shall be rich," exclaimed the dey. " But where is this noble 
 beast ?" 
 
 " It is now at Constantina, Signore," replied Master Cobbs, 
 " at your palace, where my mariners are still in captivity." 
 
 The dey instantly directed a messenger to be dispatched to 
 Constantina, with orders to the bey, or governor of the district, 
 to liberate the English captives, and transmit them and their cat 
 to Algiers. He then requested Master Cobbs, Avho had by this 
 time finished his repast, to narrate the adventures that he had 
 undergone since his last visit to Algiers ; and both he and his 
 officers, during the progress of the narrative, frequently raised 
 their hands and eyes in mute wonder, and, when Master Cobbs 
 had finished, simultaneously ejaculated, " Allah is great !" 
 
 The dey then dispatched some of his officers on different routes, 
 to trace the corsair who had plundered and captured the Unicorn, 
 and to enforce him to make restitution to Master Cobbs. The 
 latter, meanwhile, waited anxiously for the return of the messen- 
 ger who had been sent to Constantina. But the messenger did 
 not return till the noon of the following day, when, together with 
 Williams and the surviving crew, he presented himself at court. 
 
 Master Cobbs, who had gone forth to meet his old comrades, 
 and had rescued Dick's cat from the custody of their escort, 
 instantly repaired to the presence of the dey, who, on observing 
 its proportions, began to doubt if the cat were really so formidable 
 an enemy to mice as Master Cobbs represented. Several of his 
 officers, whom he had summoned thither for the special purpose 
 of shewing them the cat, shook their heads doubtfully ; and some 
 benevolent members of the divan, kindly considering that, not- 
 withstanding the enormity that he had perpetrated in attempting 
 to hoax them, Master Cobbs had basked in the rays of royal 
 favour, whispered each other that his claims to be flayed alive 
 would probably be commuted to the bow-string. 
 
 A sumptuous banquet, however, had been prepared ; and the 
 whole court, including Master Cobbs, proceeded with solemn 
 faces to the dining-saloon, where, as on the day before, the ban- 
 quet was laid out. Master Cobbs, having the cat in his arms, 
 would not squat down, but stood erect by the side of the dey, 
 who presided. The officers of the court sat in two parallel lines 
 to the end of the apartment. Here a gallery had been erected, 
 the front of which was formed of Venetian blinds, so that none of
 
 316 THE LtFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 the inmates, though they themselves could see all that passed below, 
 could be observed from without ; and in this gallery the ladies of 
 the court were admitted to view the spectacle beneath. When all 
 things were arranged, and he had ascertained that Master Cobbs 
 was quite ready, the dey ordered the covers of the dishes to be re- 
 moved ; and straightway a host of mice rushed into the apartment. 
 
 The cat sprang fi'om the arms of Master Cobbs, and the screams 
 of the uniiappy mice, as they instinctively fled from her presence, 
 or, unable to evade her celerity of movement, fell beneath her 
 piercing claws, — the screams of the unhappy mice (to quote the 
 words of an Arabian poet who was present, and who commemo- 
 rates their sufferings in an epic,) " made the welkin ring." The 
 dey threw his hands up in the air, and was mute ; his officers, 
 raising their eyes to heaven, cried with one voice, " Allah is great !" 
 and the ladies in the gallery, forgetting decorum, echoed back 
 their cry. 
 
 Were the dey and his officers to maintain their gravity on so 
 joyous an occasion ? They could not. They rushed round Master 
 Cobbs, wliose looks reproached them for their original incredulity, 
 and almost stifled him with their embraces ; and so great was the 
 enthusiasm of the court, that if they had not been restrained by 
 the Venetian blinds and a sense of decorum, it is probable that the 
 ladies in the gallery would also have embraced him. 
 
 Order, however, was at length established ; and then, taking 
 Master Cobbs by the hand, the dey inquired the price of the 
 victorious cat. 
 
 " Of your own goodness, mighty signore," replied Master Cobbs, 
 " you have had my vessel and the value of its cargo restored to 
 me. How, then, can I accept further recompence ?" 
 
 " You said the cat belonged to an orphan," returned the dey. 
 " Do you render it up to me priceless ? ' 
 
 " Surely, signore," rejoined Cobbs. 
 
 " I give thee, then," said the dey, " as a present for the orphan 
 you speak of, twelve thousand zechins, which shall be paid thee 
 directly, and a casket of pearls, valued at the same sum." 
 
 Master Cobbs bent his knee, and kissed the dey's hand ; — he 
 could not utter his thanks. 
 
 The dey, however, raised him, and resumed : — " After thy long 
 ca])tivity, signore, thou must need be anxious to return home. If 
 I yielded to my own desires, and sought not thy haj)piness, I should 
 detain thee here some time ; but, knowing the secret wish of thy 
 heart, 1 have had all things arranged for thy immediate departure. 
 Thy bark is ready ; restitution has been made for thy losses, and 
 thy mariners are now on shipboard. Tarry with me but this night, 
 and to-morrow I will bid thee farewell.'' 
 
 Master Cobbs waved iiis liand — for his emotion would not suffer 
 him to speak — to signify his acceptance of the dey's invitation, and 
 his gratitude for his kindness. The court suun afterwards broke
 
 
 y/r' Ua^'j //i/f^>^^^r/^^?/i' a^ Vc^^^A/
 
 DTCK WHITTINGTON. 317 
 
 up, and Master Cobbs spent the remainder of the day with his 
 host and a few of his chief officers. He did not forget tlie ser- 
 vices of the kind-hearted Biscari, who had been the means of 
 releasing him from bondage, but recommended him to the dey, 
 who advanced him to a high office. The next morning Master 
 Cobbs bade farewell to his princely entertainer, and embarked for 
 the Unicorn, w^hich, in addition to the survivors of her former 
 crew, the dey had well manned with ransomed English captives. 
 The wind was fair, and having settled all his aifairs at Algiers, he 
 weighed anchor; and after a favourable voyage, during which 
 nothing of importance occurred, arrived safe in the river Thames.
 
 318 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XL— THE DEATH-BED. 
 
 WHAT TRANSPIRED AT THE HOUSE OF LADY ALICE DE WINDSOR. 
 
 When he had been released from duty, on the morning after the 
 discomfiture of the insurgents, Dick hastened to the house of 
 Master Fitzwarren. He was exceedingly fatigued, and disregard- 
 ing the absence of Dame Williams, whose increasing years tended 
 to asperate rather than soften her temper, he flung himself into a 
 settle in a corner of the kitchen, and was soon asleep. He had 
 not, however, been long in this situation, and consequently had 
 obtained but little repose, when he was awakened by a loud noise, 
 as of voices engaged in angry dispute. On opening his eyes, and 
 discerning the cause of this disturbance, he could scarcely credit 
 liis senses. 
 
 In the centre of the room stood Master Williams — the veritable 
 Master Williams, whom, on his first arrival in London, he had 
 mistaken for a phantom, and, as was shown in a former part of 
 this history, pursued down several streets. There he stood indeed, 
 and there also stood his wife ; and the uproar that had awakened 
 Dick was owing to the warmth of their mutual greeting. Master 
 Williams, however, was now a travelled man, and did not submit 
 tamely to the hen-pecking propensities of his imperious dame. He 
 had been among the Moors, and, as he justly observed, if those 
 uncivilized persons could not only govern a plurality of wives, but 
 reduce them to the most abject bondage, he did not see any par- 
 ticular reason why he, a Christian man, should not be able to rule 
 one wife. He had only, like others, to assert his superiority, and 
 evince a determination to uphold it, and, as he soon found, his 
 spouse, after a little show of resistance, crouched at his feet. 
 
 Dick had started up to salute him, and with this intention was 
 hurrying forward, when he heard a voice calling him, — " Master 
 Whittington." 
 
 Dick turned round hastily, vexed that any one should address 
 him with such formality, and beheld Master Fitzwarren.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTOX. 319 
 
 " I am the bearer of good news, Master Whittington," said the 
 
 merchant. " I hasten " 
 
 " You mock me, sir," replied Dick ; " and, in mocking me, do 
 yourself much wrong." 
 
 " You are a rich man, not the less," continued the merchant. 
 " I give you joy of your good fortune, worthy sir." 
 
 " Is it really so ?'' cried Dick, struck with the earnestness of 
 Master Fitzwarren's speech. " Art thou indeed earnest, good 
 master?' 
 
 " Ay, am I," replied the merchant, taking Dick's hand, and 
 clasping it in his own ; '* but retire with me, and I will make thee 
 master of the particulars." 
 
 Accordingly, followed by Dick, Master Fitzwarren ascended the 
 stairs, and led him to an upper chamber. There Dick found 
 Master Cobbs, who, as he advanced to meet him, caught him in 
 his arras, and blessed him. He then presented him to Hubert 
 Cromwell, who, together with Master Henry, had arrived thither 
 some moments previous. 
 
 " This is your sister's son," he said, as he presented Dick to 
 Hubert. " His father is one Whittington." 
 
 " And does my nephew go in rags ?" exclaimed Hubert, folding 
 Dick in his arms. 
 
 " That heap of wealth is his," replied Cobbs, pointing to a sack 
 in the centre of the room. 
 
 " I will return presently,'' said Hubert ; and he quitted the 
 room. 
 
 " Now, my son," said Master Cobbs to Dick, " sit down by me, 
 and I will tell you what has chanced to change your fortunes." 
 And pushing Dick into a seat beside him, and nodding to Master 
 Fitzwarren to be seated, he related the particulars set forth in the 
 preceding chapter of this history. 
 
 " How am I to thank you, my two benefactors?" cried Dick, 
 addressing Fitzwarren and Cobbs, when the latter, having finished 
 his narration, shewed him the presents which the dey had sent 
 him. " And what can I do with all this wealth ?" 
 
 " It grieves me," said Master Fitzwarren, " that I did not make 
 you my apprentice ; for, by this time, your servitude would have 
 ceased, and I could make you my partner in trade." 
 
 " I have served an apprenticeship to Master Sinion," cried Dick, 
 eagerly, " and was bounden to him by regular indentures." 
 
 " This is fortunate," said Master Fitzwarren. " I will take out 
 your freedom to-moiTow, and, if you think well of it, will admit 
 you to partnership.'' 
 
 " You are too generous," said Dick, with emotion. 
 " I' faith," returned Master Fitzwarren,'' you may be Lord 
 Mayor yet." 
 
 A flush mounted to Dick's cheek, and he was about to speak, 
 but at this moment Hubert Cromwell returned. He did not,
 
 320 THE MFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 however, enter, but, opening tlie door sufficiently for the purpose, 
 protruded his liead^into the room, and beckoned Dick out. 
 
 " Hither, my son," lie cried," for I have somewhat to discuss 
 with you." 
 
 Dick instantly rose, and, proceeding into the passage without, 
 followed Hubert into an adjacent bed-chamber. He was not a 
 little surprised, on glancing round the room, to observe that the 
 toilet table was set out for immediate use, and that several suits 
 of clothes, befitting a young man of wealth and consequence, 
 were strewn over the floor. 
 
 " Fit thyself quickly, my son," said Hubert, smiling at his 
 surprise. 
 
 After trying several suits, which were either too large or too 
 small, Dick found one which fitted him exactly ; and this he 
 straightway donned. He then dispatched his ablutions ; and with 
 the assistance of Hubert, who trimmed and arranged his hair, 
 and otherwise assimilated his personal appearance with his ap- 
 parel, completed his toilet. Even Hubert, who well knew the 
 advantages of a pleasing mien and elegant attire, was surprised at 
 the transformation which dress effected in Dick. He folded him 
 in his arms ; and as he dropped his head on his shoulder, and suf- 
 fered the big tears to drip from his eyes, exclaimed, in broken 
 accents : — " My poor, lorn, unhappy sister's child I" 
 
 " We have known each other some years, uncle," said Dick, 
 " yet have we never once thought how dear we were to each other." 
 
 " Never," replied Hubert. " But let us forth." 
 
 They returned to the other chamber, in which, besides the party 
 whom they had left there, they now found Mistress Alice and 
 Miriam. 
 
 " Can this be our Dick ?" cried the two young ladies together. 
 
 " Even so, fair ladies," replied Dick," " Such as you and kind 
 fortune have made me." 
 
 He advanced to kiss their hands ; and Hubert remarked that, 
 while this courtesy was being enacted, Mistress Alice coloured to 
 the eyes, and Miriam turned pale as death. 
 
 " You must be present at Alice's nuptials to-morrow," said 
 Master Fitzwarren to Dick. 
 
 Dick bowed ; and Hubert observed that his lips quivered. A 
 few moments afterwards, thinking that his emotion had escaped 
 notice, he quitted the room; and Hubert, who had been watching 
 him intently, followed him. He overtook him in the passage, 
 and, seizing him by the arm, led him forth. They did not speak 
 a word till they reached the front of Leaden-Hall, when, as they 
 turned to enter that edifice, the gaunt falconer ran out, and nearly 
 overset them. 
 
 " What ails thee ?" cried Hubert, as he grasped the falconer's arm. 
 
 " For the love of our Lady, " cried the falconer, impatiently, 
 " let me go !"
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 321 
 
 " Why, Sir Falconer, thou tremblest with fear !" replied Hu- 
 bert. " What — " 
 
 " Oh, the faithless deceiver I" cried a woman, who now issued 
 from the porch, and whom Dick immediately recognised for Dame 
 Roaster, the cook. " Hold him, your worships I hold him sure !" 
 
 The falconer struggled hard, but Dick, divining the nature of 
 his delinquencies, hastened to Hubert's assistance, and held him 
 till the dame came up. A breach of promise of marriage was 
 then clearly proved ; and it was set forth, as an aggravation of 
 this enormity, that the dame had been induced to quit her place, 
 and, with the savings which she had accumulated during her 
 servitude, to purchase the goodwill and fixtures of a certain eating- 
 house in Cooks'-row, of which Fitzstephen says, that in his time 
 it lay " on the river-side ; it is a common cookery, or Cooks'-row, 
 where daily, for the season of the year, men might have meat — 
 roast, sod, or fried ; fish, flesh, and fowls, fit for rich and poor." 
 The dame expatiated on all the little delicacies which, as his palate 
 was rather choice, she had at various times provided for him; and 
 the obdurate falconer, it must need be owned, did seem ashamed, 
 and looked downward like a person who was really guilty. By 
 the advice of Hubert, however, he reiterated his promise of mar- 
 riage, and as the nuptials were fixed for an early day, walked 
 away with the dame to settle the preliminaries. 
 
 Dick and Hubert passed on into the garden of Leaden-Hall, 
 and proceeded to the arbour, before noticed, at its extremity, 
 
 " What frets thee, my dear son?" asked Hubert, as he took 
 Dick's hand, and looked inquiringly in his face. 
 
 *' I love her,'' replied Dick, looking downwards, 
 
 " Whom ?" 
 
 " Alice Fitzwarren," said Dick, " I pray you, as you bear me 
 affection, suffer me to journey hence for a day or two. My heart 
 would break were I present at her nuptials." 
 
 Hubert pressed his hand aff"ectionately. " Remain here, then, 
 with me," he replied. 
 
 Whoever has been plunged suddenly into profound and passive 
 sorrow, which seems to press for efflux against the sides of the 
 temples and the shield of the eyes (and they who have known 
 sorrow will recal this sensation) — whoever has felt a closeted 
 grief ticking in the breast, as if it were struggling to start forth, 
 and was restrained by fetters that were both invisible and imagi- 
 nary — whoever has been thus afflicted (and who has not?) will 
 know how sweet it is to have the bursting heart unlocked by the 
 key of sympathy, when, without restraint, its tears and its com- 
 plaints gush forth together. And thus it was with Dick, when 
 the only relation that he had in the world — the only one that was 
 bounden to him by the ties of blood and nature, poured sympathy 
 into his ear. 
 
 In the meantime, Master Cobbs, or, as the chronicler will hence- 
 
 Y
 
 322 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 forth call him, Sir Henry Sinclair, and his son Master Henry, 
 had sallied forth from Fitzwarren's, and bent their steps towards 
 Leaden-Hall. As they passed up the street they encountered 
 Master Simon Racket, who, on perceiving that person, caught 
 Sir Henry Sinclair by the hand, and welcomed him home. 
 
 " But I was seeking your son," he added. " You recollect 
 Dame Alice Ferrers, my lord?" 
 
 " Ay ! What of her?" cried the others together. 
 
 " She is now dying !" replied Master Simon. " She wishes to 
 see Master Henry once more. Will you come ?" 
 
 " God deny us else," cried Sir Henry Sinclair. 
 
 They walked at their quickest pace towards the residence of 
 Lady Alice de Windsor. Lady Alice, on the night that the insur- 
 gents attacked her house, had exerted herself so much, and had 
 so exposed her delicate and susceptible frame to cold, that on the 
 following morning she was unable to rise, and a short time after 
 became delirious. Her indisposition became more serious ; and 
 when the mediciner, on the dispersion of the rebels, hastened to 
 her assistance, she was beyond the influence of medical skill. 
 The mediciner, foreseeing her early decease, instantly quitted 
 her, and proceeded in search of a clergyman. He knew the resi- 
 dence of one whom he thought to be in the lady's confidence ; 
 and thither, unknown to Lord Walter, he hastened, and requested 
 his immediate attendance. But Lord Walter, anxious to soothe 
 the last moments of his wife, and thinking that she would wish 
 to be reconciled to the Romish church, with which, throughout 
 her political life, she had been at enmity, sent one of his ser- 
 vants to bring the first priest whom he could find, and this, unfor- 
 tunately, happened to be Sir Ambrose Follard. He was instantly 
 ushered to the bed-side of the lovely sufferer — lovely still, even 
 when thou, son of darkness and destruction I had caught her in 
 thine icy and life-chilling clutch. 
 
 She fixed on him tliose blue eyes which shone too brightly for 
 a being of clay, and her lips, whose very ghastliness awakened 
 admiration, moved a little, and her small white teeth — so white 
 and so small — grated together, and her clenched fists moved under 
 the bed-clothes ; and the black-hearted slave of bloody Rome, as 
 he observed her emotion, endeavoured to frown, but he was too 
 base a coward, and, instead of frowning, he trembled. At this 
 moment the mediciner entered. He was accompanied by a tall, 
 lean man, clad in a close black cassock, and wearing a square 
 black cap, adorned with a long tassel of the same colour. 
 
 This latter person pushed up to the bed-side. He took off" his 
 cap, and, crossing his arms on his breast, knelt down. 
 
 " Pray for me, holy sir !" murmured Lady Alice ; and she drew 
 her hands from beneath the clothes, and crossed them over her 
 breast. 
 
 " I have been a grievous sinner," she said, in a faint tone ; " but
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 323 
 
 my faith is strong, and I trust I have truly repented. I am un- 
 worthy though — unworthy indeed." 
 
 The clergyman stooped down, and whispered in her ear. A 
 faint smile stole over her pale features ; her hands relaxed their 
 clasp ; and her arms fell powerless by her side. She opened her 
 eyes, which had closed involuntarily, and those lovely orbs were 
 now covered with a filmy veil, which seemed to obscure her vision. 
 Nevertheless, as her eyes fell on Sir Henry Sinclair and his son, 
 whom Master Simon had introduced to her chamber, a shade of 
 deathful blue spread over her face, and she made a movement as 
 though she had recognised them. 
 
 " For — give !" she muttered at length. 
 
 " May He forgive thee as freely as I do !" exclaimed Sir Henry, 
 as the tears ran down his manly cheeks. 
 
 Master Henry, though unable to repress his emotion, stepped 
 forward, and took the sufferer's hand in his own. Lady Alice was 
 evidently summoning her dying energies to the rescue. Her face 
 was convulsed ; her lijis rose up fearfully on one side ; and as her 
 eyelids fell and rose again, so quick that their motion was scarcely 
 seen, she clenched her fists close, and digging them into the bed, 
 suddenly raised herself up. She looked Master Henry in the face, 
 and, as she faltered forth " For — get !" fell back a corpse. 
 
 " She died out of the pale of Holy Church," cried Sir Ambrose 
 Pollard, exultingly. " She is denied Christian burial." 
 
 "Liar!" said the clergyman who had attended Lady Alice; "I 
 administered to her this morning." 
 
 " And who art thou ?" asked Sir Ambrose. 
 
 " I am John Wickliff"!" said the other, as he placed his cap on 
 his head, and, turning from the priest, quitted the room. 
 
 " ' The Lord has taken away our head to-day,' " said the medi- 
 ciner, quoting the words of the inspired Elijah. 
 
 " But there are those left who will care for you, kind Jew," ob- 
 served Sir Henry. 
 
 " And peril their lives for you !'' said Lord Walter, with deep 
 emotion. 
 
 " But M'hither is the lovely one gone ?" returned the Jew. 
 " The flower of summer has perished ! The fairest of Canaan's 
 daughters has mourned her last ! And am I left — the weary and 
 old, when the mighty are crushed, and the mother of the unhappy 
 is no more ?" 
 
 " I must quit this scene," muttered Sir Henry ; and he cauglit 
 his son by the hand, and led him forth to the street.
 
 324 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XII THE LOVERS. 
 
 HOW MASTER COTTLE PROJECTED A STRATEGY, AND WHAT 
 THE STRATEGY WAS. 
 
 Sir Henry' and his son proceeded at a slow pace towards Leaden- 
 Hall. Neither of them, during their passage, uttered a single 
 word ; but fed with silence the melancholy which the death of 
 Lady Alice inspired. "When, however, they entered the hall, and 
 were introduced to the presence of Sir Herbert de Pye, the cordial 
 welcome which they received from the latter, and the nature of 
 the subject to which he called their attention, quickly dispelled 
 their serious humour. 
 
 " Your son here," he said to Sir Henry, " has advertised me that 
 he has chosen a lady-love. He soars high, I think, since none but 
 an earl's daughter will content him !'' 
 
 Master Henry blushed ; and his father, perceiving his confusion, 
 looked grave. 
 
 " Howbeit, my old friend," resumed Sir Herbert, " I have 
 adopted him for mine own, you know. I have advised the Earl 
 of Hereford, who is the lady's father, that Henry will be my heir ; 
 and I think he will scarce raise objections now." 
 
 Master Henry threw himself at Sir Herbert's feet, and as he 
 raised his hand, and pressed it to his lips, the old chevalier forced 
 him to rise. 
 
 " Ay, ay," he said, " this is how you come over me, you un- 
 dutiful boy. You kept me in the dark about your lady-love 
 though. Well, to punish you, I will put a stop to the matter." 
 
 " Nay, my good lord " 
 
 " 'Tis too late," smiled Sir Herbert. " I have already com- 
 muned with the earl ; and as the Lady Evaline is stubborn, and 
 refuses to discard you, we have settled that you are to wed her 
 to-morrow !"
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 325 
 
 The speaker laughed, and as Master Henry and his father also 
 seemed to enjoy the joke, the trio laughed very heartily together, 
 which unanimity of sentiment appeared to please the old chevalier 
 exceedingly. 
 
 " I have news for you too, my old friend," said the chevalier to 
 Sir Henry. " This graceless boy fought so lustily for the king the 
 other day, when the insurgents met in Smoothfield, that we have 
 hopes of having your attainder rescinded." 
 
 " That is good news, indeed," replied Sir Henry, as he shook his 
 son by the hand. " But may not we see the fair lady to whom 
 Henry dedicates his heart and sword ?" 
 
 '' I' faith," rejoined the old chevalier, " there cannot chance a 
 better occasion to present you ; and so, with your son's permission, 
 we will straight seek her." 
 
 Master Henry offered no objection ; and accordingly, preceded 
 by Sir Herbert, he and his father repaired to the Lady Evaline's 
 apartments. 
 
 That young lady received them with mingled smiles and blushes. 
 The earl, for whom Sir Herbert sent a messenger, soon afterwards 
 entered ; and Lady Evaline and Master Henry stole away into a 
 corner. 
 
 Meanwhile, as might be expected, Dick remained despondent in 
 the garden. When he knew not that he possessed either a kins- 
 man or a sixpence, as was the case a score of hours previous, he 
 was sufficiently gloomy and wretched ; but this disposition, he 
 thought, was then natural, and as he was at the bottom of Fortune's 
 ladder, and in no dread of further tumbles, not utterly hopeless. 
 Now, however, when he was the possessor of wealth, it seemed 
 that, to spite him, and to rob his despair of its tone of reproach. 
 Fortune had conceded him a minor favour in order that she might 
 the more speciously deny him a great one, and, in the bitterness of 
 his disappointment, he upbraided her with her plausibility, and bade 
 her take back that gift which was but a tinselled mockery of his 
 dark despondency. In this mood, from which Hubert endeavoured 
 in vain to rescue him, he retired to his uncle's chamber, where, as 
 the morbid commotion of his thoughts continued to harass him, 
 and did not suifer him to sleep till the morning, he remained till 
 late the next day. When he arose, and descended to the hall, he 
 found that his uncle had been summoned forth by Master Simon, 
 who had been deputed to invite him to Mistress Alice's nuptials ; 
 and, though he had predetermined not to be there, he felt cha- 
 grined that he, too, had not been sent for. But what was it to 
 him ? Nothing — nothing at all ! and he fixed his eyes on the 
 ground, as though he were looking for his grave, and tried to dis- 
 cover what he was thinking about ; and, strange as it may appear, 
 the tide of double-consciousness ran so strong that he could not 
 conjecture. 
 
 Then he started up like a maniac, with his eyes stiff in his head.
 
 326 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 and his heart knocking against his side, and then, indeed, he knew 
 what he was thinking about. Surely, though, he could not have a 
 complete idea of his utter misery. He must wake himself up. He 
 must ask himself what the bells were chiming so merrily for. He 
 must recal, with a spell of mighty power, a thousand cherished re- 
 miniscences. He must ask himself if Mistress Alice were really to 
 be married that morning — if, as he stood idle there, she was 
 standing at the consecrated altar of God, plighting her faith to 
 another, an4, while her heart upbraided her lips, taking an un- 
 natural oath to deny him her love. Was he a brute, or a madman, 
 that he did not cling to this harrowing truth ? or was it a dream, 
 or, as Miriam had said, a fantasy ? Holy Mary 1 no ! it was life, 
 reality, plain and startling truth I 
 
 He felt some one grasp his arm, and, turning round, beheld 
 Hubert, for whose appearance at this crisis the chronicler must 
 now proceed to account. 
 
 Master Cottle, when he was apprised of the safe return of the 
 Unicorn, and of the history of her voyage, had proceeded in quest 
 of Master Simon Racket, whom, after a laborious pursuit, he at 
 length found, not, as he expected, in his usual placid humour, but 
 bewailing the recent decease of Lady Alice de Windsor. Master 
 Cottle, however, soon restored him to tolei-able equanimity ; and 
 after a conference of two hours, during which Dame Eleanor was 
 admitted to their confidence, a scheme was concocted that there- 
 after occasioned considerable festivity among the parties whom it 
 concerned. 
 
 On the following morning, at an early hour, and while Master 
 Cottle repaired to the house of Fitzwarren, Master Simon visited 
 the various bell-ringers of the metropolis, and having bribed them 
 to commence a general peal precisely at eleven o'clock, sought the 
 presence of Hubert Cromwell. He implored that person, as he 
 valued the happiness of his nephew, to hasten to the house of 
 Fitzwarren, where, he said. Master Cottle desired to commune 
 with him on a matter of moment, which could not be communi- 
 cated to another person. Thither, though he was unwilling to 
 leave Dick to himself, Hubert instantly proceeded ; and Master 
 Simon, who accompanied him, introduced him at once to the 
 merchant's sitting-chamber. 
 
 The chamber put forth unusual pretensions to magnificence ; 
 but its inmates, with the exception of Master Cottle, seemed to 
 mock its pomp. Master Fitzwarren looked grave and abstracted ; 
 Mistress Alice was mute and motionless ; and Miriam, though her 
 cheek was flushed, appeared to be unutterably wretched. Master 
 Cottle, on the entrance of Hubert and his guide, beckoned Master 
 Fitzwarren apart, and communicated something to him which, 
 though he spoke not a word, made a visible impression on the 
 merchant. 
 
 ♦' Shall I break the matter to her?" asked Master Cottle.
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 327 
 
 " Do SO," said Fitzwarren. And Master Simon, who overheard 
 what had passed, rubbed his hands together with exceeding spirit. 
 
 " Haw !" said Master Cottle, as he reached the side of Mistress 
 Alice. 
 
 " Sir !" exclaimed Mistress Alice, starting to her feet. 
 
 Master Cottle seized her hand, and, pressing it fondly, resumed, 
 " Can you bear to hear sudden news ? Could you prepare your- 
 self hastily for happiness ? Think, now, ray dear young mistress, 
 if I resigned my claim to your hand, whom you would prefer." 
 
 One deep blush spread over Mistress x\lice's face and neck. 
 She leaned back on her chair, and a flood of tears, which ran like 
 liquid pearls down her beautiful cheeks, choked her utterance as 
 she replied, " You are too — too good." 
 
 " Only," said Master Cottle, with deep emotion, " only that I 
 should have to abdicate the kingship of the bucks — " 
 
 " Ay, ay," interrupted Master Simon. 
 
 " And only that she loves me not — " 
 
 " True for you," ejaculated Master Simon. 
 
 " And only that Simon, who is a man of parts, regrets his 
 bachelor days, I could find it in my heart to wed her. But as it 
 is. Queen of London's daughters, I resign thee to my friend 
 Dickon." 
 
 Mistress Alice screamed ; and Miriam screamed too. 
 
 " I will go bring Dick to thank thee, thou generous man I" said 
 Hubert to Master Cottle ; and he quitted the room, 
 
 " Poor Miriam !" said Mistress Alice apart. " What wilt thou 
 do now?" 
 
 " Fear not for me, sweet Alice," replied Miriam. " Be happy, 
 dearest ! Love him ever as thou lovest now ! I am one of an 
 outcast race— not to be loved, not to be pitied. But I will not 
 sadden thy nuptial morning with my presence. My sire has sent 
 for me to repair to a house of mourning. Thither I will now 
 hasten, and, when time has subdued my love, we will meet again." 
 
 She threw her arms round the neck of Mistress Alice, and bade 
 her farewell ; and Alice, conscious that the nuptial festivities 
 would be maddening to her, suffered her to depart. Neither 
 Master Fitzwarren nor Simon Racket, when she told them that her 
 father had directed her to repair to him, pressed her to remain ; 
 and with a bursting heart and a trembling step she departed.
 
 328 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XIII.— THE SEARCH. 
 
 WHAT BECAME OF MIRIAM WHEN SHE LEFT THE HOUSE OF 
 MASTER FITZWARREN. 
 
 Poor Miriam I — she walked away at an unusual pace ; but though 
 she strode along so hastily, she tottered at every step. And it was 
 no marvel that she did totter. Her brain seemed to be on fire ; 
 yet every dark thought that dashed across it, and every scorching 
 reflection that it emitted, shot a cold shudder through her frame. 
 Oh ! if she could have squeezed one tear from her heart, which 
 had not a solitary drop in its crystal well, how greedily her hot 
 brain would have drank it up I — or if she could have drawn one 
 deep sigh, and thus unlocked the melodious feelings of her bosom, 
 which, till she could find that magnetic key, was still as marble, 
 what a flood of womanly gentleness would have come to her relief I 
 Then she might find that the world was not dark, that life was not 
 a shadow, that death 
 
 It was a fearful obsession that — to anticipate the Great Dis- 
 poser, and to rush to the front of His bar, before the awful trump 
 had sounded, with a bloody band raised in defiance I But was it 
 so very, very sinful ? Were the consequences so inconceivably 
 fatal ? No, no ! — it was the creed of cowards, bigots, and narrow- 
 minded slaves — the offspring of mortal fear and human prejudice — 
 the artifice, ghastly but shallow, of blatant priests. It were hard 
 indeed, and unjust withal, if she might not render up, when it was 
 burthensome, (he life that she had never asked — the world that 
 she had renounced. No one, however prejudiced, could gainsay 
 that ; and therefore, instead of going to the place slie had originally 
 intended, she would repair to her father's house, and think what 
 death were the easiest. 
 
 It was a Pagan philosopher, if the chronicler remember right, 
 who said that the workings of a woman's heart constituted tiic
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 329 
 
 profoundest of mysteries ; and what Christian, of either sex, can 
 contradict him ? In the wild paroxysm of despair, which bursts 
 the silver fetters of modesty and love, or in the height of indulged 
 passion, which no opposition can subdue, and which time can 
 scarce decay, what a rapid succession of thoughts, purposes, and 
 schemes arises in her heart ! — and who can say, that when she is 
 least a woman, there is not still a sense of her weakness, and a 
 remnant of her native qualities, visible in her conduct ? Such, at 
 least, was the case with Miriam, when, as she entered her father's 
 laboratory, and closed and bolted the door behind her, she drew 
 one deep breath of hesitation. The next moment, however, she 
 sprang forward, stubborn and resolved, and opened a small closet 
 in which the mediciner kept his drugs. 
 
 She shook out a small quantity of white powder from a vial 
 that stood on the shelf, and threw it into a di'inking cup ; and 
 then, having infused some water, stirred it round till the particles 
 had dissolved. She bent her head over it, and placed her nose 
 close to the surface, but scent it had none. She turned away, and 
 walked slowly to the door, and, returning to the table on which 
 she had left it, gazed at the cup as though she would absorb its 
 contents with her eyes. Was that a footstep ? No ! But a heavy 
 foot would tread there soon. The step of a hoary pilgrim, coming 
 from the death-bed of a contrite sinner to the chamber of the 
 hardened suicide, would soon waken an echo within those unhal- 
 lowed walls — unhallowed by the presence of the suicide's corpse. 
 
 Her face was as pale as alabaster ; yet, notwithstanding, it was 
 so fraught with expression, blended with such a refined com- 
 plexion, that it seemed to be made of thought. Her long black 
 hair, owing to the inward excitement under which she laboured, 
 had lost its curl, and fell in rich, glossy waves over her shoulders 
 and bosom. Her bust was as still and as white as the purest marble. 
 One would have thought, as she stood gazing on the draught of 
 death, that she was the masterpiece of some magic sculptor — 
 endued with the witchery of expression, but wanting the reality of 
 life. Her figure was so chaste — her drapery was so quiet, so 
 picturesque — her limbs were so exquisitely chiselled — that a spec- 
 tator, if one there had been, would never have thought that she 
 was a human being, meditating so dark a crime. She seized the 
 fatal cup, and, as she lifted it to her lips, raised her eyes towards 
 heaven. 
 
 Heaven! — what had she to do with heaven? Had she ever a 
 bright hope, which would last through eternity, recorded in the 
 Book of Doom ? Let her wave her hand, red with her own dear 
 blood, in the face of her Maker, whose image she had defaced in 
 her own person, and then, when angels could not abide its glorj-, 
 cast her eyes towards His throne I — She dashed the cup and its 
 contents on the floor. 
 
 As she knelt humbly down before Omnipotence, as she buried
 
 330 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 her face in her hands, and, being once again a woman, wept, she 
 did not utter a single word of praj^er ; but she disclosed her broken 
 heart, poor thing ! — and that was the more grateful sacrifice. 
 After she had been kneeling thus, however, for some time, and 
 had thought over and over again that she was unworthy of, not 
 that she would be denied, mercy, something strengthened her 
 spirit, and, as the tears of sincere repentance flowed forth from 
 her eyes, she ventured to confess her guilt, and to implore forgive- 
 ness. 
 
 She rose with a calm and grateful, though broken heart ; and 
 it was not a wilful fault, if fault it were, that she still loved Dick. 
 She tried to banish him from her thoughts ; and if tears could 
 have washed him from her memory, or sighs drawn his image 
 forth from her heart, she would have succeeded ; but, as it was 
 not so ordered, 
 
 " She pined in thought, 
 And with a green and yellow melancholy" 
 
 looked forward to the grave. 
 
 At length, however, she shook off her apathy, and proceeded to 
 the house of Lord Walter de Windsor, whither, as has been stated, 
 her father had desired her to repair. Leaving her to pursue her 
 way thither, where events had happened that she had not antici- 
 pated, the chronicler must precede her to her father's presence. 
 
 On the day after Sir Ambrose Pollard had visited Lord de 
 Windsor's house, where, as has been shewn, he had encountered 
 the mediciner, he went to the governor of the gaol of Newgate, 
 and, having impressed him with the importance of achieving his 
 capture, informed him of the mediciner's place of refuge. The 
 governor, anxious to recover his lost prisoner, instantly armed four 
 of his assistants ; and thus seconded, and guided by Sir Ambrose, 
 he sallied forth. 
 
 They soon arrived at their destination ; and having decided on 
 the course which they would pursue, and determined, if persuasion 
 failed, to carry off the mediciner by force, they inflicted an authori- 
 tative rap on Lord de Windsor's door. A domestic, who recon- 
 noitred them from an upper casement, instantly acquainted his 
 master with their suspicious appearance ; and that personage re- 
 paired to the casement, and, having first surveyed them, pushed 
 it open. 
 
 " What seek you?" he cried, as he protruded his head from the 
 open casement. 
 
 " We have the king's authority to arrest the Jew mediciner," 
 replied Sir Ambrose. " He is now in your house." 
 
 " How know you that, Sir Priest ?" demanded Lord Walter. 
 
 " I saw him there myself, proud peer," returned Sir Ambrose. 
 
 " IJut you know not if he be here now," replied Lord Walter. 
 " Howbeit, ye shall not say I refused admittance to the king's 
 officers. I will admit ye straightway."
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 331 
 
 Nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed, however, before the priest 
 and his posse were admitted. Just as Sir Ambrose inflicted a 
 second and furious rap thereon, the door opened, and Lord Walter 
 presented himself. 
 
 " Enter!" he said, preceding Sir Ambrose and the constables 
 into the hall. " You see," he said, as they entered the latter 
 apartment, which Avas lined with armed men — " You see. Sir 
 Priest, I am prepared to resist aggression." 
 
 Sir Ambrose glared savagely at the nobleman. " My Lord," 
 said the gaoler, <' you will scarce venture to molest the king's 
 officers ?" 
 
 " Not while they act on warrant," said Sir Alfred. " Search 
 for your prisoner, and if you find him, which you will not, take 
 him away." 
 
 <' He is not in the house, then, my lord ?" returned the gaoler, 
 pausing abruptly. 
 
 " Search, sir ! search !" cried Sir Ambrose, furiously. " This 
 man will not tell a downright lie, because, forsooth, he durst not. 
 But he would blind us with subterfuge, put us off with evasion, 
 and wrap lies in a cloak of truth. Search ! search 1 Leave not a 
 corner or a key -hole which this sorcerer could creep into with- 
 out close scrutiny." 
 
 Urged on by this objurgatory address, which the fierce priest 
 rendered more emphatic by his frantic gestures, the gaolers express- 
 ed their readiness to comply with his wishes ; and Sir Ambrose, 
 having posted one of them as a sentry at the door, preceded them 
 to the upper apartments. Lord Walter, after whispering to liis 
 esquire, who remained in the hall, to be in readiness, followed 
 the inquisitors, and suffered them to institute the strictest scru- 
 tiny in every apartment. When, however, they came to the bed- 
 cliamber of the deceased Lady Alice, whose corpse lay therein, 
 he thrust himself betwixt them and the door, and drawing his 
 rapier, threatened to slay the first man who attempted to enter, 
 
 " The Jew is in there !'' cried Sir Ambrose, with diabolical 
 exultation. " I command yon, in the name of the holy father, 
 God's vicar on earth, to open the door. Refuse, and let the 
 heaviest ban of heaven light on you !" 
 
 Lord Walter turned pale, and, after a moment's hesitation, 
 stepped aside. " You would break in on the privacy of the 
 dead," he said. " Be this on your own hands !" 
 
 Sir Ambrose pushed open the door ; and seizing the jerkin of 
 the gaoler, who had shrunk back, drew him into the chamber. 
 
 The curtains of the casements, of which there were three, had 
 been drawn down, and the beams of the meridian sun, as they 
 struggled through the web of the drapery, blended the shadow of 
 death with their light. On the costly bed, with the snow-white 
 coverlet drawn up to her beautiful chin, lay the corpse of Lady 
 Alice. 
 
 Death ! thou hadst withdrawn the lustre from those blue eves,
 
 332 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 vhich had reduced heroes and poets to bondage, and thou hadst 
 closed their sweet lids, and combed down their long lashes; — 
 henceforward they would illuminate the banquet of the creeping 
 thing, who would devour their loveliness, and, drunken with the 
 mellifluous food, make a couch of her beauteous bosom, where, 
 but three short days before, love and ecstasy had pillowed : — This 
 hadst thou done, Dark Destroyer 1 and Heaven's fairest work 
 acknowledged thy power. But not death — not even the ghastly 
 finery of the tomb, shocking as it is to the eye, and appalling to 
 the heart, could detract from the beauty which God had created, 
 and which time, love's enemy, had spared. Those sweet white 
 hands that were crossed over her breast, whose elegant outline 
 was marked on the close coverlet, afforded presumptive evidence 
 of her personal perfection — of etherial proportions and exquisite 
 combination — of that fulness and roundness of limb which painters 
 call contour. Some barbarous hand had curtailed her brown hair, 
 and one, more compassionate and more tasteful, had wound it 
 into a topknot, crowned with a comb of pearls. Her face, of 
 course, was exceedingly pale, but the classic rounding of its fea- 
 tures, though they themselves were vacant, was so perfect, and 
 their regularity was so striking, that the melancholy which they 
 excited in a spectator was pleasing rather than morbid. Such, at 
 least, was the sum of Lord Walter's reflection, as he stood by 
 the side of the bed, and, while the priest and the gaoler were 
 engaged in searching the room, gazed in the face of the corpse. 
 
 " My Lord!" said a voice, in a tone of deep sympathy. 
 
 Lord Walter turned round to the speaker. 
 
 " My Lord !'' continued his squire, who was the person that 
 had addressed him, " a servant has just brought this packet from 
 Sir Herbert de Pye. He was charged to deliver it instantly." 
 
 Lord Walter glanced at the indorsation : — 
 
 " f^aste, ijastc ! post=!)aj(te ! })ost=!)aste ! 
 Ittilre, billatn, vitic! for t!)B life ! for tf)B life! for ti)5 life!" 
 
 which was invariably written on the exterior of ancient dispatches. 
 
 " 'Tis of moment," said Lord Walter, as he tore open the 
 packet. " Oh I" he added, as he glanced at the inclosure, " is it 
 even so ?" 
 
 He stepped into the further corner of the room, which the 
 inquisitors were now examining, and drew back a panel in the 
 wainscot, opening into a secret recess. 
 
 " Sir Medicincr," he cried, " come forth. Here have we the 
 king's officers come in quest of you." 
 
 The mediciner walked out with a firm step ; and Sir Ambrose, 
 who had shrunk back on the disclosure of the secret passage, 
 instantly pounced upon him, and grasped the collar of his gown 
 with both his hands. 
 
 " There is the mediciner !" cried Lord Walter, " and here is his 
 pardon, signed and sealed with the king's own hand !" He handed
 
 'Mc^ 
 
 i/^^n^e-tJ 
 
 ' y/^ i'ay^.
 
 DICK WKITTINGTON. 333 
 
 the document to the gaoler, and, pointing to Sir Ambrose, con- 
 tinued, " And here is a fellow who, though clad in the garb of 
 God's ministers, has rudely invaded a house of mourning, and a 
 chamber of death. Wherefore, as a Christian soldier, and a 
 knight of chivalry, I will requite him as he deserves." 
 
 " Arch heretic I" cried Sir Ambrose, menacingly, " I defy thee I 
 I am, as thou hast said, God's minister, and invulnerable to such 
 as thou. I revel not in halls, or play the gallant in bowers ; but 
 when night hath sealed the sluggard's eyes, and stretched the base 
 peasant on his truckle, I pray long prayers, and lash and pinch 
 my flesh — I am holy, thou publican I and I can shut such as thou 
 out of heaven I" 
 
 " Cease thy blasphemy I'' exclaimed the mediciner, indignantly. 
 " Dost thou think, thou worm, that Beneficence is pleased to see 
 His creatures, for whom he hath raised the fair fabric of the 
 world, making themselves miserable ? or thinkest thou, with still 
 less of sanity, that they who make a hell of the beauteous earth, 
 or, as thou wouldst have it, mortify the flesh, deserve heaven 
 therefor? — Curse on thy arrogance I and doubly-cursed be " 
 
 The mediciner paused abruptly. 
 
 " Say on !"' said Sir Ambrose. 
 
 " I will !" said the mediciner, with unusual vehemence — " I 
 will ; and take the fatal consequence." 
 
 " Thou hast a child, I think?" observed Lord Walter. 
 
 " True, my lord," returned the mediciner, in a less passionate 
 tone. " Thou hast reminded me that I have one to live for. The 
 God of Israel bless thee and thy house I' 
 
 " And now," said Sir Ambrose Pollard, " I seize the body of 
 this heretic — Alice de Windsor. She died without the pale of 
 Holy Church, and tasted not, as I can prove, the blessed 
 Eucharist. I charge all present, as they dread the ban and pro- 
 secution of the church, to aid me to remove the cursed corse." 
 
 '' Now by my hopes of heaven I" said Lord Walter, choking 
 with passion, " I guessed thy purpose ; but mark me, thou bad 
 man I mark all of ye I the first who ventures on this undertaking, 
 whether priest or layman, dies in the attempt I Seel" — and he 
 stamped thrice on the floor, — " I am not alone I'' 
 
 As Lord Walter spoke, and pointed with his naked rapier to 
 the door, the armed partisans who been stationed in the hall, and 
 whom the three stamps on the floor, as was previously arranged, 
 summoned thence, burst into the chamber. 
 
 " He would seize the body of your dear mistress, my hearts !" 
 cried Lord Walter. " He calls her heretic I infidel I contemner of 
 the Eucharist ! What say ye ?"" 
 
 " He lies !" 
 
 " Doth he indeed?'' said Lord Walter. "' I'faith, he trembles 
 too. Take him. then, to tlie hall ; and, for your ladies' sakes, 
 shew him no pity. "
 
 334 THK LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " Hold, ye fiends 1" cried the priest. " Know ye not " 
 
 But Lord Walter was not disposed to listen to the priest's 
 oration, or to suffer it to be delivered to his followers ; and there- 
 fore, while he was yet speaking, he seized him by the collar of 
 his cassock, and, applying his foot to the posterior development 
 of his person, kicked him forward. The gaoler and his assistants, 
 being fearful of a similar visitation, and having now no further 
 business there, incontinently made for the door, and, as Lord 
 Walter did not interrupt them, were suffered to pass. Not so Sir 
 Ambrose, however. That reverend ecclesiastic, whose sanctity 
 ought to have raised an impregnable bulwark round his person, 
 descended the stairs in a fashion so novel, that though he was 
 propelled by no gentle influence, it could not but be pleasing, 
 particularly, though not one of them was heard to laugh, to his 
 conductors. At length, however, he was kicked into the street ; 
 and turning round on the partisans, who attended him no further 
 than the door, he vowed vengeance on all of them. 
 
 At this moment Miriam arrived ; and hastening to the presence 
 of her father, in the chamber of the deceased Lady Alice, threw 
 herself into his arms. 
 
 " We will now place her in the coffin," said Lord Walter ; and, 
 beckoning iNIii'iam into a chair, he drew the mediciner from the 
 room. 
 
 Four of the female domestics now entered, pale and weeping ; 
 and placed the body of Lady Alice in a black coffin, which stood 
 on trestles in the middle of the chamber. A piece of black broad- 
 cloth had been spread over the trestles, and two tall wax tapers, 
 which shed a sickly light around, were placed on either side of the 
 coffin. Miriam was then left to keep a lone vigil over the dead. 
 
 There is nothing so elevates the soul as the contemplation of a 
 corpse — especially if it endure through solitary hours, and those 
 hours far in the night. We are apt to remember that we will one 
 day be the same — that they who dress us for the sepulchre will 
 talk over us, and make remarks that, were we spiritually present, 
 they would not utter. A melancholy morality blends itself with 
 our thoughts ; and we speculate whither the spirit of that body 
 has gone, and whether, while we are watching there, it may not 
 be hovering near. And then fear steals over us — at least, it did 
 over Miriam ; and, thinking to dismiss it, she took up a dulcimer, 
 and accompanied its soft notes with this 
 
 " ' Ashes to ashes !' — Cease to weep, 
 For death is but a dreamless sleep. 
 
 That hath an end ; 
 And soon the trumpet's music deep 
 Its bonds shall rend !
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 335 
 
 The iron voice of yon sad bell, 
 
 That doth pronounce the funeral knell, 
 
 Is like to man : — 
 Its life is o'er ere it can tell 
 
 That it began ! 
 
 The virgin rose that opes its eyes^ 
 And dons a rich and royal guise, 
 
 At peep of morn, 
 Ere night will lay a sacrifice — 
 
 Trod down and lorn ! 
 
 The lark that hails the dawn of day, 
 And speaks, in sweet and jocund lay, 
 
 Of days as bright. 
 The woodman's arrow fleet will slay * 
 
 Before the night ! 
 
 And man is like the lark and flow'r, 
 He hath as gay and brief an hour ; 
 
 And woman, too ; — 
 And then death lifts his shaft of pow'r, 
 
 And strikes them through I 
 
 ' Ashes to ashes !' — Cease to weep I 
 Fling ' dust to dust' in the grave so deep ! 
 
 Our farewell's ta'en ; 
 And sleeper scarcely from that sleep 
 
 May wake again I" 
 
 She ceased ; for at this moment the door of the chamber was 
 softly opened, and the mediciner and Lord Walter entered. The 
 latter had determined, as he had no doubt that the priesthood 
 would interfere, and endeavour to have her refused Christian 
 burial, to have his late wife buried that night; and he had ordered 
 his arrangements in such a manner that no unfriendly eye could 
 track her sepulchre. Having taken a last look at that pale face, 
 which still blended beauty Avith its ghastliness, he and the medi- 
 ciner screwed down the lid of the coffin ; and having drawn the 
 pall over it, and being assisted by his esquire and henchman, car- 
 ried it down to the street-door. Before the door stood a ivhirlicote, 
 " for of old time," says Strype, " coaches were not known in this 
 island, but chariots, or whirlicotes, then so called ; and they only 
 used of princes, or men of great estates, such as had their footmen 
 about them." 
 
 It was now near eleven o'clock, and as they drew the dark pall 
 over the coffin, which they placed within the whirlicote, and then 
 sat on either side thereof, it was scarce possible that it would be 
 detected. It was a lovely night though, and, as they drove slowly 
 on towards the burial-ground, the full moon illuminated even the 
 tears on their faces.
 
 336 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 They proceeded to the gate " toward the north, called Bishops- 
 gate, so that (as may be supposed) the same was first builded by 
 some bishop of London." They passed, unquestioned, through 
 the gate, and entered " a large field, of old time called Lolesworth, 
 now Spittlefield." The moon shone fair on the church of 
 St. Mary Spittal, whither, driving slowly over a deeply-rutted 
 road, they now proceeded. At length they reached the church- 
 yard, where a person in a black cassock, who, previous to their 
 arrival, had been leaning against the low wall, advanced to meet 
 them. 
 
 " Holy Sir John," said Lord Walter, " I owe thee many thanks 
 for this attention." 
 
 " None, my good lord, none at all," replied Doctor Wickliff", for 
 he it was. " We have yet to raise the tomb-stone." 
 
 " My trusty fellows are close at hand, Sir John, and I have 
 implements within the whirlicote." 
 
 The esquire and henchman arrived at this moment ; they incon- 
 tinently sprang over the church-yard wall, and, while Lord Walter 
 and the mediciner watched the corpse, followed Doctor Wickliff 
 to the middle of the church-yard. A large, square stone, laid flat 
 on a low base of bricks, covered the vault before which they 
 stopped, and their guide directed them to raise it. They soon 
 loosened the cement, and after gaining a purchase for their crow- 
 bars, which they had brought with them from the whirlicote, raised 
 the stone, and with the assistance of Doctor Wickliff", who seconded 
 them with another bar, toppled it on one side. They then re- 
 turned to the carriage, and aided by Lord Walter and the medi- 
 ciner, and preceded by the clergyman, bore Lady Alice de Windsor 
 to her last dark home. 
 
 Never, surely, did the moon look so celestial as when it shed its 
 calm, sweet lustre on that sable pall and that yawning grave I — 
 and, good St. George ! it seemed a fit illumination of the melan- 
 choly scene. It could not but be a lovely night and a quiet hour 
 when Beauty's sweetest daughter was interred — when the Queen 
 of Love was given to darkness ; nor could inanimate loveliness 
 have a nobler elegy, as she passed the bourne of time, than that 
 lofty psalm which Wickliff" read. But, Bequiescat in pace! — let 
 us close her tomb !
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 337 
 
 CHAPTER XIV THE WEDDING. 
 
 THE HISTORIAN SHEWS THAT HE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN HIS HERO. 
 
 Dick Whittington, on learning from Hubert what had transpired 
 at the house of Master Fitzwarren, instantly accompanied his 
 informer to that locality. On his arrival thither, in consequence 
 of the precaution of Hubert, he had not to endure the pain and 
 suspense of an explanation ; and consequently he rushed into the 
 chamber, and without regarding any other of the inmates, clasped 
 Mistress Alice in his arms. 
 
 It were tedious to describe the scene that ensued — the frication 
 of Master Simon's hands, and his repeated encomiums on perseve- 
 rance ; the ahaws of Master Cottle, and his several plaudits of 
 Master Simon's wit ; the sober joy of Master Fitzwarren ; the 
 congratulations of Hubert Cromwell; the blushes of Mistress 
 Alice ; and the ineffable happiness of Dick. Suffice it, that on the 
 entrance of Dame Eleanor Racket, with two young ladies dressed 
 as bride's-maids. Master Cottle proposed that they should repair to 
 the church of St. Michael, Cornhill ; and, as no one offered any 
 objection, they proceeded thither incontinently. Just as they 
 reached the altar, where a clergyman waited to receive them, a 
 company of cavaliers and ladies, attii'ed in bridal array, introduced 
 themselves into the church, and, amidst a murmur of welcome from 
 Masters Racket, Cottle, and Cromwell, advanced to the altar. 
 Dick and Mistress Alice — displeased, perhaps, at the interruption, 
 turned to scrutinize the new-comers, and, to their great surprise, 
 beheld Master Henry Sinclair and his fair mistress, attended, on 
 either side, by a company of tall cavaliers and fair dames. There 
 was Sir Henry Sinclair — no longer plain Master Cobbs, but a 
 girded knight, bearing in his hand a plumed and braided beaver : 
 there was the old chevalier of Taunton — Sir Herbert de Pye ; 
 there was the stout old Earl of Hereford; and last, who was 
 really first, there was the fair young dame, the Lady Evaline 
 Bohein — the flower of that courtly company. 
 
 When the priest had tied the nuptial knot — the holiest of 
 
 z
 
 338 • THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Heaven's holiest ordinances, what emotions swelled in the bursting 
 bosoms of those four young persons! How Dick's heart beat I 
 and how that of Mistress Alice fluttered ! How the spirit of each 
 bowed down before the Almighty King, and, confessing its own 
 impotence and infirmity, acknowledged His loving-kindness and 
 consideration I It were false to say, at such a moment and in 
 such a place, that the creed which immured lovely girls in dark 
 dungeons — which hid the Creator's handiwork in a pit, and locked 
 nature's sweetest quality in a cage — it were a direct lie, and an 
 atrocious libel on Heaven, to say that that creed was not a vile 
 and monstrous idolatry ; else why, as the priest pronounced the 
 nuptial benediction, and told them that they were thenceforward 
 ONE, why did Dick and Mistress Alice become alive to a new 
 sense? why did the dearest feelings of humanity arise in their 
 hearts, and the brightest sympathies of nature kindle in their 
 bosoms ? Mistress Alice felt that, through the union of love and 
 sympathy, her mind had been born again — that it was endued with 
 new passions, and open to new impulses — the loyal, devoted, and 
 eternal passion of a wife, and the bright, active, and amiable 
 impulses of a mother ; and Dick felt that his heart was no longer 
 single — that it was purified from the selfishness of an individual 
 existence — that it had a stay and a councillor and a bride in the 
 breast of another. Such were the sentiments of the united lovers 
 as they returned home — dreaming, as they walked, of a thousand 
 ecstatic delights, and a whole futurity of sunshine. Oh ! where 
 was the dark-eyed Miriam then ? 
 
 The day was spent, as such days should be, in feasting and 
 revelry ; and the two officiating bride's-raaids, both of whom were 
 young and fair, made up their minds to get married as soon as 
 they conveniently could — a resolution which is earnestly recom- 
 mended to the consideration of every lady who, like the bride's- 
 maids in question, is young and fair. 
 
 The mediciner, through the influence of Sir Herbert de Pye, 
 who convinced the King of his steadfast loyalty, was taken under 
 the royal protection, and, previous to the usurpation of Henry the 
 Fourth, ended his days in peace. Miriam, after lingering for a 
 few years, fell into a rapid consumption, which baflfled the utmost 
 skill of her father, and in a short time hurried her to the grave. 
 
 Sir Henry Sinclair was reinstated in his honours and estates. 
 He lived to a good old age, and died, in the arms of his son, at 
 Taunton Castle, which feof, on the demise of Sir Herbert de Pye, 
 was inherited by Master Henry. This latter cavalier attained high 
 dignities. In the list of nobles summoned to Parliament, bearing 
 date in January, 1399, he is named by the style and title of " the
 
 DICK WHITTINGTON. 339 
 
 ryght trustie and honourabil Chevalier, Henry Sancte Clare, 
 Baron of Taunton, and Signiore of Sedgemoor." Some of his 
 descendant-;, perhaps, can still be found among our patrician 
 families — but this is a matter of speculation. 
 
 Master Cottle never married. He lived to be an aged and 
 venerable bachelor ; and, at his death, bequeathed his wealth to 
 one Simon Cottle Racket, who is mentioned in the will as being 
 the testator's godson, and a " bachelor of parts." 
 
 Master Simon Racket was induced to discontinue his practice of 
 putting his house in order — an arrangement which he thence- 
 forward intrusted to Dame Eleanor, who, by the excellence of her 
 economy, soon convinced him of the policy of this step. When, 
 two or three years after his daughter's marriage, Master FitzAvarren 
 retired from business, Simon Racket was admitted into the firm as 
 junior partner; and in a few years thence became a wealthy 
 citizen. It is said, that on the day of his installation as Sheriff" of 
 London, in the year 1399, he declared that, "as worthy Master 
 Cottle often said, ' perseverance accomplisheth many things.' "
 
 340 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XV. — THE LAST. 
 
 WHICH CONCLUDES THIS HISTORY. 
 
 RiCHAUD Whittington (for it is now time to give him his name 
 in full) was not suffered to remain in the obscure situation which, 
 notwithstanding his wealth and influence, his unassuming disposition 
 led him to prefer. In the year 1399, when he was thirty-five 
 years of age, he was elected Lord Mayor of London; and, as a 
 further proof of the esteem in which they held him, chosen by his 
 fellow-citizens to represent them in parliament. Some years after 
 the usurpation of the regicide Henry the Fourth, when the kingdom 
 Avas threatened with invasion by France and Scotland, Richard 
 Whittington was one of those merchants who surrendered a tenth 
 of their property to the state ; and for his patriotic conduct on 
 this occasion, which found the usurper deserted by the nobles of 
 the land, he was created a knight. Some time afterwards he was 
 sent, in company with the Archbishop of York, as a commissioner 
 to the Earl of Northumberland, then in arms against the govern- 
 ment, to endeavour to conciliate him ; and, though he failed in 
 that object, Henry was so pleased with the Archbishop's report of 
 his integrity and prudence, that, as some say, he offered to raise 
 him to the peerage. Sir Richard, however, declined the honour, 
 though, in the following year (1406), he suffered himself to be 
 a second time elected Lord Mayor of London, During this 
 mayoralty, which some erroneously call his third, the Earl of North- 
 umberland made such head that Henry was obliged to take the 
 field ; and Sir Richard Whittington subscribed one thousand 
 pounds (a great sum in those days) towards equipping his troops. 
 
 In the year 1410, or thereabout. Sir Richard applied for a 
 licence to build a church, together with a college and alms-house, 
 on a piece of ground which the city had given him for that 
 purpose. In the following year, having obtained the requisite 
 licence, he built and endowed the church and college, which he
 
 DICK WH'TTINGTON. 341 
 
 called the church and college of St. Spirit and St. Mary. The 
 foundation of the college was for a master, five fellows, masters 
 of arts, clerks, and conducts ; and an alms-house, which he after- 
 wards built, was attached. This latter building was called God's- 
 
 house, or hospital, and was endowed for thirteen poor men 
 
 citizens. The principal, who was to be a teacher of the others, 
 was to have eighteen-pence the week ; and each of the remaining 
 twelve was to receive two-pence per diem. The house was to be 
 supplied with fuel from the foundation — with a hutch, or corn- 
 chest, of three decks ; a common seal, and furniture. The inmates 
 were bound to pray " for the good estate of Richard Whittington, 
 and Alice his wife, their founders ; for the souls of Hugh Fitz- 
 warren, and Dame Maud his wife; of King Kichard the Second, 
 and Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester, special lords and 
 promoters of the said Whittington ; and for Anne and Eleanor, 
 the wives of the said king and duke. Moreover, for the good 
 weel and estate of our sovereign lord King Henry the Fourth 
 and the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury (Thomas Chichely) that 
 now be, and for the conservators and benefactors of the same 
 house, while they live ; also for their souls and ours, when they 
 and we be passed out of the world ; and generally for them to 
 whom the said Sir Richard Whittington and Dame Alice were 
 beholden in any wise, while they live, and for all Christen soules." 
 The will of Whittington, which, the chronicler is informed, is 
 still in the possession of the Mercers' Company, is headed by a 
 curious illumination, representing, says Tennant, " Whittington 
 lying on his death-bed — a very lean, consumed, meagre body ; 
 and his three executors, with a priest and divers others, standing 
 by his bedside." The document opens, " To all true people of 
 Cryste that shall se or here the things conteyned in these present 
 letters, John Coventre, Jenkin Carpenter, and William Grove, 
 exekiters of the testament of the worthie and notabil merchaunt 
 Richard Whittington, late citizen and mercer of the citie of 
 London, and sometime mayre of the said citie, sendinge greetyng 
 in our Lord God everlastynge." It concludes thus : "In wytnes 
 we have put to our seels, gyven at London, the xxj daie of De- 
 cembre, in the yere of our Lord God MCCCCXXIV: 
 Go littel boke, go littel tragedie, 
 Thee lowly submytting to al correction 
 Of them being maisters now of the mercerie — 
 OIney, Felding, Boleyn, and Burton ; — 
 Hertilie theym beseetchyng, with humbil salutation, 
 Thee to accept ; and thus to take in glee 
 For ever to be a servant within our commonaltie.'' 
 Sir Richard also erected and furnished a magnificent library, at 
 Grey Friars, and a foundation in Christ's Hospital. He pulled 
 down and rebuilt Newgate, which was destroyed afterwards by the 
 great fire of London ; and beautified the ohl Guildhall.
 
 342 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF DICK WHITTINGTON. 
 
 In the year 1419, prior to which he had retired from business. 
 Sir Richard was again, for tlie third time, elected Lord Mayor of 
 London. It was during this mayoralty that he entertained Henry 
 of Agincourt and his bride — Catiierine of France. 
 
 Never before, perhaps, did a merchant display such magnificence 
 as was then exhibited in the Guildhall. The tables groaned beneath 
 the weight of gold and silver that was heaped upon them ; precious 
 stones were ranged about to reflect the rays of the chandeliers ; 
 and the fires, which the season of the year rendered necessary, 
 were fed with the richest spices. The choicest fish, the most 
 exquisite birds, the most delicate meats, and the most rare con- 
 fections, served on the precious metals, were spread before the 
 guests, whose senses were all alike regaled. The most skilful 
 musicians, with a quire of beautiful females, performed a concert 
 the while ; and a conduit ran rich wine to their music. " Surely," 
 cried the amazed king, " never had prince such a subject ; never 
 was liberality such as this displayed by a subject to his sovereign." 
 " Even the fires," cried the queen, "are filled with perfume !" 
 
 "If your highness," said Sir Richard, "inhibit me not, I will 
 make those fires still more grateful." As he ceased speaking, and 
 the king nodded acquiescence, he drew forth a packet of bonds, 
 and advancing to the fire, resumed : " Thus do I acquit your 
 highness of a debt of sixty thousand pounds,'' and he tossed the 
 bonds into the fire. 
 
 The king stood mute with astonishment ; the queen was motion- 
 less ; and the dames and nobles of the court, unable to repress 
 their admiration, burst into a loud plaudit. 
 
 Reader ! this was the last public act of Sir Richard Whittington, 
 
 THE roNo. 
 
 T. C. Savill, Prhiki, 107, St. Martin's Lane.
 
 LIST OF PLATES. 
 
 The Lord IMayor's feast in 1416 ... frontispiece 
 
 Dick and his dying Mother discovered in the hovel, &c. ... ... P^ge 5 
 
 The Termagant's jealousy aroused ... ... ... ... ... ... 7 
 
 Dick Whittington enjoying the sports of Old Maye Daie ... ... ... 57 
 
 Dick Whittington maltreated in the affray between the Romanists and 
 
 Lollards G3 
 
 Dick Whittington's perilous adventure at the Old Queen's Hithe ... 78 
 
 Dick Whittington purchasing his famous Cat of the old Dame at Aeldgate 87 
 
 Dick Whittington, champion of the fair Jewess, wounds Sir Alfred Sinclair 117 
 
 The treacherous midnight attack on Dick AVhittington's friends, &c. ... Ill 
 
 IMaster Henry finds favour in the sight of Dame Alice Ferrers 147 
 
 Dick Whittington's horrible adventure in the dead-hole of the Tower Real 156 
 The Thames — Midnight — Dame Price in the power of Rudleigh the 
 
 ruffian 1^3 
 
 The duel by torchlight in the dungeons of the Tower Real 180 
 
 Clarissa discovered by the French fisherman 210 
 
 Dame Alice Ferrers descends from the Wakefield Tower 221 
 
 Dick and Mistress Alice listening at the chamber-door 240 
 
 Dick's consternation in the Church-yard of St. Michael, Cornhill ... 254 
 
 The mysterious appearance in the French Widow's chimney 262 
 
 Mistress Alice Fitzwarren surprises Dick and Miriam 285 
 
 Lady Alice de Windsor presents herself to the rebels 296 
 
 The Dey and his Courtiers marvel at the prowess of Dick's Cat 316 
 
 The Mediciner's pardon 
 
 332

 
 
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