inferior in quality to ermine, and formed, it is believed, of the skin of the grey squirrel. This doublet hung unbuttoned over a close dress of scarlet which sate tight to his body; he had breeches of the same; but they did not reach lower than the lower part of the thigh, leaving the knee exposed. His feet had sandals of the same fashion with the peasants, but of finer materials, and secured in the front with golden clasps. He had bracelets of gold upon his arms, and a broad collar of the same precious metal around his neck. About his waste he wore a richly-studded belt, in which was stuck a short straight two-edged sword, with a sharp point, so disposed as to hang almost perpendicularly by his side. Behind his seat was hung a scarlet cloth cloak lined with fur, and a cap of the same materials richly embroidered, which completed the dress of the opulent landholder when he chose to go forth. A short boar spear, with a broad and bright steel head, also reclined against the back of his chair, which served him, when he walked abroad, for the purposes of a staff or of a weapon, as chance might require.' I. 45-52.

The horn of the travellers is now heard at the gate-and Cedric is informed that the Prior Aymer, and the valiant Knight Templar Brian de Bois-Guilbert, crave the shelter of his roof. Though by no means pleased with Norman visitors, the hospitality of Rotherwood is not to be impeached; and the guests are marshalled, with much state and solemn welcoming, into the hall of the Saxon; where they are speedily joined by the Lady Rowena, whose anxiety to hear news from Palestine induced her, on this occasion, to disregard her guardian's recommendation to keep the state of her own apartment. We must gratify our fair readers with this description of her dress and

person.

Formed in the best proportions of her sex, Rowena was tall in stature, yet not so much so as to attract observation on account of superior height. Her complexion was exquisitely fair; but the noble cast of her head and features prevented the insipidity which sometimes attaches to fair beauties. Her clear blue eye, which sate enshrined beneath a graceful eye-brow of brown sufficiently marked to give expression to the forehead, seemed capable to kindle as well as melt, to command as well as to beseech. If mildness were the more natural expression of such a combination of features, it was plain, that, in the present instance, the exercise of habitual superiority, and the reception of general homage, had given to the Saxon lady a loftier character, which mingled with and qualified that bestowed by nature. Her profuse hair, of a colour betwixt brown and flaxen, was arranged in a fanciful and graceful manner in numerous ringlets, to form which art had probably aided nature. These locks were braided with gems, and, being worn at full length, intimated the noble birth and free-born condition of the maiden. A golden chain, to which was attached a small reliquary of the same metal, hung round her neck. She wore bracelets on her arms, which were bare.

Her dress was an under-gown and kirtlé of pale sea-green silk, over which hung a long loose robe, which reached to the ground, having very wide sleeves, which came down, however, very little below the elbow. This robe was crimson, and manufactured out of the very finest wool. A veil of silk, interwoven with gold, was attached to the upper part of it, which could be, at the wearer's pleasure, either drawn over the face and bosom after the Spanish fashion, or disposed as a sort of drapery round the shoulders. I. 73, 74.

The ardent gaze of the Templar soon obliges the Princess to put this drapery to its proper use-and a conversation ensues, in which, though the Templar speaks with arrogance, and the Prior with studied courtesy, we cannot say that there is much which reminds us either of the real talk of strangers thus assembled, or of those exquisite imitations of real talk which abound in this author's other performances. By and by, a wandering Jew seeks the shelter of Cedric's hall from the night-storm that is howling without; and is introduced, by his orders, to a very disdainful and discourteous society. Every one, even to the lowest menial, shrinks in abhorrence from the hated unbeliever-till the Pilgrim, who had modestly stationed himself at the lower end of the hall, taking compassion on his silver beard and venerable age, resigns his humble place to him, and passes over to the other side of the apartment. After the commotion occasioned by this intrusion has subsided, the Lady Rowena turns the conversation to the Holy Land, and inquires of the Templar, who were the most distinguished of the Christian champions in that arduous warfare.-He answers, that none were to be compared to the valiant knights of his order.

"Were there then none in the English army, " said the Lady Rowena, "whose names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the Temple, and of St John?"-" Forgive me, lady," replied De Bois-Guilbert; "the English monarch did, indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only to those whose breasts have been the unceasing bulwark of that blessed land. "Second to NONE, " said the Pilgrim, who had stood near enough to hear, and had listened to this conversation with marked impatience. All turned toward the spot from whence this unexpected asseveration was heard. "I say," repeated the Pilgrim in a firm and strong voice, "that the English chivalry were second to none who ever drew sword in defence of the Holy Land. I say besides, for I saw it, that King Richard himself, and five of his knights, held a tournament after the taking of St John-de-Acre, as challengers against all comers. I say that, on that day, each knight ran three courses, and cast to the ground three antagonists. I add, that seven of these assailants were Knights of the Temple-and Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert well knows the truth of what I tell you." It is impossible for language to de

scribe the bitter scowl of rage which rendered yet darker the swarthy countenance of the Templar. In the extremity of his resentment and confusion, his quivering fingers griped towards the handle of his sword, and perhaps only withdrew, from the consciousness that no act of violence could be safely executed in that place and presence. Cedric, whose feelings were all of a right onward and simple kind, and were seldom occupied by more than one object at once, omitted, in the joyous glee with which he heard of the glory of his countrymen, to remark the angry confusion of his guest; "I would give thee this golden bracelet, Pilgrim, could'st thou tell me the names of those knights who upheld so gallantly the renown of merry England." -"That will I do blythely," replied the Pilgrim," and that without guerdon; my oath, for a time, prohibits me touching gold. "The first in honour as in arms, in renown as in place, said the Pilgrim," was the brave Richard, King of England."-" I forgive "I him," said Cedric; "I forgive him his descent from the tyrant Duke William. "The Earl of Leicester was the second," continued the Pilgrim; "Sir Thomas Multon of Gilsland was the third." "Of Saxon descent, he at least," said Cedric, with exultation. "Sir Foulk Doilly the fourth," said the Pilgrim." Saxon also, at least by the mother's side," continued Cedric, who listened with the utmost eagerness, and forgot, in part at least, his hatred to the Normans, in the common triumph of the King of England and his island"And who was the fifth?" he demanded. "The fifth was Sir Edwin Turneham."-" Genuine Saxon, by the soul of Hengist!" shouted Cedric-" And the sixth?" he continued with eagerness- "how name you the sixth?". "The sixth," said the Palmer, after a pause, in which he seemed to recollect himself, was a young knight of lesser renown and lower rank, assumed into that honourable company less to aid their enterprise than to make up their numbers—his name dwells not in my memory.

ers.

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"Sir Palmer," said Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert scornfully, "this assumed forgetfulness, after so much has been remembered, comes too late to serve your purpose. I will myself tell the name of the knight before whose lance fortune and my horse's fault occasioned my falling-it was THE KNIGHT OF IVANHOE;-nor was there one of the six that, for his years, had more renown in arms.-Yet this will I say, and loudly-that were he in England, and durst repeat, in this week's tournament, the challenge of St John de Acre, I, mounted and armed as I now am, would give him every advantage of weapons, and abide the result." "Your challenge would be soon answered," replied the Palmer, "were your antagonist near you. As the matter is, disturb not this peaceful hall with vaunts of the issue of a conflict, which you well know cannot take place. If Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine, I will be his surety that he meets you.

A crowd of conflicting emotions seemed to have occupied Cedric, and kept him silent during this discussion. Gratified pride, resentment, embarrassment, chased each other over his broad and

open brow, like the shadow of clouds drifting over a harvest-field; while his attendants, on whom the name of the sixth knight seemed to produce an effect almost electrical, hung in suspense upon their master's looks.' I. 89-95.

After some more pacific talk, the guests retire to their repose -the Templar reviling the Jew as he passes, and talking apart to his Moorish attendants.-The Pilgrim is called into the chamber of the Lady Rowena, and questioned with much earnestness and emotion as to the fate of the Knight of Ivanhoe, of whom he disclaims any farther knowledge than that he proposed about that time to have returned to his native land. -Betimes in the morning he calls on the neglected Jew, and throws him into an agony of terror and gratitude, by informing him that Bois-Guilbert and his Moors meant to waylay him on his road, and offering at the same time to guide him in safety through the forest, if he would instantly set out along with him. A word whispered in the ear of Gurth procures them an easy exit from the fortified grange of Cedric-and they prick through the woodlands before the dawn. When they approach the town of Sheffield, the Palmer proposes to part

"What

"Not till you have had the poor Jew's thanks," said Isaac ; "for I presume not to ask you to go with me to my kinsman Zareth's, who might aid me with some means of repaying your good offices." "I have already said," answered the Pilgrim, "that I desire no recompense. If, among the huge list of thy debtors, thou wilt, for my sake, spare the gyves and the dungeon to some unhappy Christian who stands in thy danger, I shall hold this morning's service to thee well bestowed. 66 Stay, stay," said the Jew, laying hold of his garment; something would I do more than this, something for thyself.-God knows the Jew is poor-yes, Isaac is the beggar of his tribe. Yet I can tell thee what thou lackest, and, it may be, supply it too. Thy wish even now is for a horse and armour. The Palmer started, and turned suddenly towards the Jew :fiend prompted that guess?" said he hastily. "No matter," said the Jew, smiling, though it be a true one-and, as I can guess thy want, so I can supply it. "But consider," said the Palmer, "my character, my dress, my vow. "Forgive me!" said the Jew. But there dropt words from you last night and this morning, that, like sparks from flint, showed the metal within; and in the bosom of that Palmer's gown, is hidden a knight's chain and spurs of gold. They glanced as you stooped over my bed in the morning." The Pilgrim could not forbear smiling. "Were thy garments searched by as curious an eye, Isaac, said he, "what discoveries might not be made?" "No more of that, said the Jew, changing colour; and drawing forth his writing materials in haste, as if to stop the conversation, he began to write upon a piece of paper which he supported on the top of his yellow cap, without dismounting from his

66

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mule. When he had finished, he delivered the scroll, which was in the Hebrew character, to the Pilgrim, saying, "In the town of Leicester all men know the rich Jew, Kirgath Jairam of Lombardy; give him this scroll-he hath on sale six Milan harnesses, the worst would suit a crowned head-ten goodly steeds, the worst might mount a king, were he to do battle for his throne. Of these he will give thee thy choice, with every thing else that can furnish thee forth for the tournament: when it is over, thou wilt return them safely—unless thou shouldst have wherewith to pay their value to the owner. "But, Isaac," said the Pilgrim, smiling, "dost thou know that in these sports, the arms and steed of the knight who is unhorsed are forfeit to his victor? Now, I may be unfortunate, and so lose what I cannot replace cr repay. The Jew looked somewhat astounded at this possibility; but collecting his courage, he replied hastily," No-no-no-It is impossible-I will not think so. The blessing of our Father will be upon thee. Thy lance will be powerful as the rod of Moses." So saying, he was turning his mule's head away, when the Palmer, in his turn, took hold of his gaberdine. Nay, but Isaac, thou knowest not all the risk. The steed may be slain, the armour injured-for I will spare neither horse nor man. Besides, those of thy tribe give nothing for nothing; something there must be paid for their use. The Jew twisted himself in his saddle, like a man in a fit of the cholic; but his better feelings predominated over those which were most familiar to him. "I care not," he said, "I care not-let me go. If there is damage, it will cost you nothing-if there is usage money, Kirgath Jairam will forgive it for the sake of his kinsman Isaac. Fare thee well!-Yet hark thee, good youth," said he, turning about, "thrust thyself not too forward into this vain hurley burley-I speak not for endangering the steed, and coat of armour, but for the sake of thine own life and limbs. Gramercy for thy caution," said the Palmer, again smiling; "I will use thy courtesy frankly, and it will go hard with me but I will requite it. I. 125-129.

We come now to the tournament, or Passage of Arms of Ashby, in the description of which the author has made use of all his resources, and presented us at once with a more learned and a more lively picture of that stately and chivalrous divertisement, than is to be found in any other writer. We must treat our readers to a little corner of this splendid exhibition.

The scene, he observes, was singularly romantic. On the verge of a wood, which approached to within a mile of the town of Ashby, was an extensive meadow of the finest and most beautiful green turf, surrounded on one side by the forest, and fringed on the other by straggling oak trees, some of which had grown to an immense size. The ground, as if fashioned on purpose for the martial display which was intended, sloped gradually down on all sides to a level bottom, which was enclosed for the lists with strong palisades VOL. XXXIII, No. 65. B