fire,46 and every aperture red with conflagration! I gave a loud convulsive outcry, and fell upon the pavement insensible. This alarmed my son, who had till this been asleep, and he, perceiving the flames, instantly awaked my wife and daughter, and all running out, naked, and wild with apprehension,47 recalled me to life with their anguish. But it was only to objects of new terror,48 for the flames had by this time 49 caught the roof of our dwelling, part after part continuing to fall in,50 while the family stood with silent agony 51 looking on as if they enjoyed the blaze. I gazed upon 52 them 53 and upon it 54 by turns,55 and then looked round me for my two little ones; but they were not to be seen. "Oh misery! 56 Where," cried I, "where are my little ones?" "They are burnt to death 57 in the flames," said my wife calmly, "and I will die with them." That moment I heard the cry of the babes within, who were just awoke by the fire, and 58 nothing could have stopped me. "Where, where are my children?" cried I, rushing through the flames, and bursting the door of the chamber in which they were confined. "Where are my little ones?" "Here, dear papa, here we are," cried they together, while the flames were just catching the bed where they lay. I caught them both in my arms, and conveyed them through the fire as fast as possible, while, just as I was going out, the roof sunk in. "Now," cried I, holding up my children, "now let the flames burn on, and all my possessions perish! 59 Here they are, I have saved my treasure, and we shall be happy." We kissed our little darlings a thousand times; they clasped us round the neck,60 and seemed to share our transports, while their mother laughed and wept by turns.

I now stood a calm spectator 61 of the flames, and after some time

began to perceive that my arm to the shoulder was scorched in a terrible manner. It was, therefore, out of my power to give my son any assistance, either in attempting to save our goods, or preventing the flames spreading to our corn. By this time the neighbours were alarmed,62 and came running to our assistance; but all they could do was to stand, like us, spectators of the calamity. My goods, among which were the notes which I had reserved for my daughters' fortunes, were entirely consumed except a box with some papers, that stood in the kitchen, and two or three things more of little consequence, which my son brought away in the beginning. The neighbours contributed, however, what they could to lighten our distress. They brought us clothes, and furnished one of our outhouses with kitchen utensils: so that by daylight 63 we had another, though a wretched dwelling to retire to. My honest next-door 64 neighbour and his children were not the least assiduous 65 in providing us with everything necessary, and offering 66 whatever consolation untutored benevolence 67 could suggest.

COUNTRY ESQUIRES IN 1685.

TAKEN FROM THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. These gregarious habits1 had no small share in forming the character of the Londoner of that age. He was indeed a different being from the rustic Englishman. There was not then the intercourse which now exists between the two classes. Only very great men were in the habit of dividing the year between town and country. Few esquires came to the capital thrice in their lives; nor was it yet the practice of all citizens in easy circumstances to breathe the fresh air of the fields and sea-breezes during some weeks of every summer. A cockney,2 in a rural village, was stared at as much as if he had intruded into a kraal of Hottentots. On the other hand,3 when the lord of a Lincolnshire or Shropshire manor appeared in Fleet-street, he was as easily detected from the resident population as a Turk or a Lascar. His dress, his gait, his accent, the manner in which he stared at the shops, stumbled into the gutter, ran against the porters, and stood under the waterspouts, marked him as an excellent subject for the operations of swindlers and banterers.6 Bullies jostled him

cendie, je le contemplais d'un air calme.

62 "The alarm spread," &c. 63 Au lever du soleil.

64 Need not be expressed. 65 Empressé.

66 Prodiguer, donner.

67 Bienveillance naturelle.

1 Cette habitude de vivre en société.

2 Un badaud.

3 De même aussi.

4 Il se tenait tout ébaubi, or
la bouche béante devant les, &c.
5 Chevaliers d'industrie.

6 Des mauvais plaisants.
7 Des espèces de spadassins.

10

9

into the kennel, hackney-coachmen splashed him from head to foot, thieves explored with perfect security the huge pockets of his horseman's coat, while he stood entranced by the splendour of the LordMayor's show. Money-droppers, sore from the cart's tail," introduced themselves to him, 12 and appeared to him the most honest, friendly gentlemen that he had ever seen. If he asked his way to St. James's, his informants 14 sent him to Mile-end. If he went into a shop, he was instantly discerned to be a fit purchaser of everything that nobody else would buy; 15 of second-hand embroidery,16 copper rings, and watches that would not go. If he rambled into any

13

fashionable coffee-house, he became a mark for the insolent derision of fops, and the grave waggeries of Templars. Enraged and mortified, he soon returned to his mansion, and there, in the homage of his tenants, and the conversation of his boon companions,17 found consolation for the vexations and humiliations which he had undergone. There he once more felt himself a great man; and he saw nothing above him, except when, at the assizes, he took his seat on the bench, near the judges, or when, at the muster of the militia, he saluted the lord-lieutenant.

EXTRACT FROM IVANHOE.'

SIR W. SCOTT.

All eyes were turned to see the new champion whom these sounds announced; and no sooner were the barriers opened, than he paced into the lists.

As far as could be judged of a man sheathed in armour, the new adventurer did not greatly exceed the middle size, and seemed to be rather slender than strongly made. His suit of armour 2 was formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold, and the device on his shield was a young oak, pulled up by the roots, with the Spanishword 'Desdichado ;'

3

5

8

signifying Disinherited. He was mounted on a gallant black horse,7 and, as he passed through the lists, he gracefully saluted the prince and the ladies, by lowering his lance. The dexterity with which he managed his steed, and something of youthful grace which he displayed in his manner, 10 won him the favour of all the multitude, which some of the lower classes expressed, by crying:-" Touch Ralph de Vipont's shield, touch the Hospitaller's shield; he has the least sure seat-he is your cheapest bargain!"

12

The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant hints, ascended 13 the platform by the sloping 14 alley, which led to it from the lists, and, to the astonishment of all present, riding straight up to the 15 central pavilion, struck with the sharp end 16 of his spear the shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, until it rang again." 17 All stood astonished at his presumption, but none more than the redoubted knight whom he had thus defied to mortal combat.

"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "and have you heard mass this morning, that 18 you peril your life so frankly ?"

"I am fitter to meet death 19 than thou art," answered the Disinherited Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded himself 20 in the tournay.

"Then take your place in the lists," said de Bois-Guilbert, "and look your last upon the sun;21 for this night thou shalt sleep in Paradise."

66

Gramercy for thy courtesy," replied the Disinherited Knight; "and, to requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for, by my honour, you will need both."

Having expressed himself 2 thus confidently, he reined his horse backward 28 down the slope 24 which he had ascended, and compelled

25

him in the same manner to move backward through the lists, till he reached the northern extremity, where he remained stationary, in expectation of his antagonist. This feat of horsemanship 26 again attracted the applause of the multitude.

However incensed at his adversary, for the precautions which he recommended, Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not neglect the advice, for his honour was too nearly concerned to permit his neglecting any means which might insure victory over his presumptious opponent. He changed his horse for a fresh one of great strength and spirit. He chose a new and tough spear, lest the wood of the former might have been strained 28 in the previous encounters he had sustained. Lastly, he laid aside his shield, which had received some little damage,29 and received another from his squires. His first had only borne the device of his order, representing two knights riding upon one horse, an emblem expressive of the original 30 humility and poverty of the Templars qualities which they had since exchanged for the arrogance and wealth that finally occasioned 31 their suppression. BoisGuilbert's new shield bore a raven in full flight,32 holding. in its claws a skull, and bearing the motto, Gare le Corbeau.

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When the champions stood opposed to each other at the two extremities of the lists, the public expectation was strained to the highest pitch. Few augured the possibilty that the encounter could terminate well for the Disinherited Knight; yet his courage and gallantry secured the general good wishes of the spectators.

The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the champions vanished from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closing in the centre of the lists with the shock of a thunder-bolt, the lances burst into shivers up to the very grasp, and it seemed at the moment that the knight had fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil backwards upon its hams.35 The address of the riders recovered their steeds by use of the bridle and spur, and having glared 36 on each other for an instant, with eyes that seemed to flash fire through the bars of their visors,37 each made a demi-volte, and, retiring to the extremity of the lists, received a fresh lance from the attendants.