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and forwards under the directions of a fresh bustling landlady; but still seizing an occasional moment to exchange a flippant word, and have a rallying laugh with the group round the fire.
I had not been long at the inn when a post-chaise drove up to the door. A young gentleman stepped out, and by the light of the lamps I caught a glimpse of a countenance which I thought I knew. I moved forward to get a nearer view, when his eye caught mine. I was not mistaken; it was Frank Bracebridge, a sprightly good-humoured young fellow, with whom I had once travelled on the continent. Our meeting was extremely cordial, for the countenance of an old fellow-traveller always brings up the recollection of a thousand pleasant scenes, odd adventures, and excellent jokes. To discuss all these in a transient interview at an inn was impossible; and finding that I was not pressed for time, and was merely making a tour of observation, he insisted that I should give him a day or two at his father's country seat, to which he was going to pass the holidays, and which lay at a few miles' distance. “ It is better than eating a solitary Christmas dinner at an inn," said he, “and I can assure you of a hearty welcome in something of the old-fashioned style." His reasoning was cogent,* and I must confess the preparation I had seen for universal festivity and social enjoyment had made me feel a little impatient of my loneliness. I closed, therefore, at once, with his invitation; the chaise drove up to the door, and in a few moments I was on my way to the family mansion of the Bracebridges. — Mushington Irving.
* Cogent, forcible or strong to the mind.
EDWARD THE FIRST'S GRIEF FOR QUEEN ELEANOR,
THE English powers were in array,*
The borders of the kingdom won,
The shadow of dark death came on;
A moment's space he turned aside
From his fixed spirit's steady aim;
Till to grey Westminster they came;
They rested nigh Northampton's bowers,
They rested nigh old Waltham's I shade,
One more sad halting-place they made;-
They laid her in the minster shade
Who should attend his march no more;
The hour of saddening honours o'er,
Ruler of spirits stern and rude,-
Branded by death of Wallace good;
In outward show keep company. * Edward the First was fighting in Scotland.
+ The carved stone cross which stands in front of the Railway Station at Charing Cross is said to be an exact copy of the original cross erected by Edward.
# Waltham Cross in Hertfordshire.
Yet went no lone thoughts wandering back
Away from shrine and monument,
When in that shadowing eastern tent,
Crossing the blue sea citron-isled,
To watch beside their dying child; Or from Caernarvon's towered heights Shown their young lord to Cambria's knights? The peasant passes by the way
And looks up to yon graven crest;
Sits down upon its step to rest;
And little trace of sorrow leave;
Where heavy hearts once stopped to grieve. And who, but for the bedesman's* lore, Now knows the name of Eleanor ? Yet it is written,-sure and deep,
In one Book undiscerned of men;
Their trust, until the hour when
Anonymous. THE DYING BOY,
* « Bedesman or "beadsman,” a man anciently employed in praying, especially praying for another person.
WHO SET UP NAPOLEON'S STANDARD (THE EAGLE) AT RATISBON.
You know we French stormed Ratisbon ;-*
A mile or so away,
Stood, on our storming day;
Legs wide, arms locked behind,
Oppressive with its mind.
Just as perhaps he mused, “My plans,
That soar, to earth may fall,
Waver at yonder wall,”
A rider, bound on bound
Until he reached the mound.
Then off there flung in smiling joy,
And held himself erect
You hardly could suspect, -
Scarce any blood came through,-
Was all but shot in two.
“Well,” cried he, "Emperor! by God's grace
We've got you Ratisbon !
And you 'll be there anon
Where I, to heart's desire,
Soared up again like fire.
+ Wings with which the air is beaten, The poct Dryden, for example, uses the word of vag" in the sense of a wing,
The chief's eye flashed; but presently
Softened itself as sheathes A film the mother eagle's eye,
When her bruised eaglet breathes. “You're wounded!” “Nav.” his soldier's pride
Touched to the quick, he said, “ I'm killed, Sire!” And his chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead.
CARDINAL WOLSEY ON THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE,
FAREWELL, a long farewell, to all my greatness!