differently meant, as intended to satirize his suspicious tardiness, regarded the speaker with a scowl, which, however, passed unnoticed. He seated himself again in the chair, and apparently regardless of the persons around, or the conversation which ensued, appeared deeply engaged in thought. The stranger threw himself across the entrance to the inner chamber, and placing his cloak for a pile low, appeared fast resigning himself to slumber. Richard lay near him; and Hans Molken, with whom sudden im pulses were rare, and consequently overpowering, when attended, as in the present instance, with physical exertion, lay sleeping on the bench. "The storm is dying away," said Richard, “I think, sir, you buffeted the worst." No answer followed, and Richard, dying with curiosity to know what circumstances had placed the stranger and his fair companion in so perilous a situation, puzzled his brains to discover some mode of ascertaining this fact without adventuring a direct question; this, indeed, he cared not to hazard; for there was a certain flashing in the stranger's eye, which seemed to say, mere idle curiosity would not obtain its paltry end from him; and Richard wisely considered, that to arouse anger in the man whom he had assisted to save from destruction, particularly one so well armed, (for having thrown off his cloak, pistols and a sword were plainly visible,) would be neither generous nor prudent. A short pause ensued, and then the reflections of Richard, struggling with his curiosity, produced the following remark. "'Twas fortunate, sir, you had not horses: had you been mounted, the chances are fifty to one, the headstrong animals would have sprung from the cliff." "We were mounted," was the reply, "but terrified at the lightning, our jaded steeds refused to move, and fearful of goading, lest they should become desperate, and carry us to death, and likewise observing the light from this cot, we determined to dismount and seek shelter here until the dawn. Fatigued before, the lady found herself inadequate to the exertion of climbing the steep, and being unable to discover my way to this door, and unknowing likewise whether trenches crossed the path, I shouted loudly, and you kindly came to my assistance." "Can then the light in this cottage be seen from the road to Brighthelmstone ?", demanded Richard, well knowing it might, but wishing to ascertain if that 66 place had been the stranger's destination. Plainly ;-we were journeying to that village for the purpose of going on board a vessel which sails to-morrow. But you are, I presume, a stranger here by that question ?" However willing to learn the affairs of others, it was by no means the intention of Richard to discover his own; he therefore mumbled out an inarticulate answer, and pretending to be overpowered with slumber, stretched himself on the ground, and counterfeited snoring, which speedily changed to real nasal oratory. One hour passed away, and then the Cavalier, who had carefully replenished the fire, carefully rose, took a flaming brand, and advancing to the stranger, passed it repeatedly before his eyes. Не slept profoundly: the brand was thrown down, and the inquirer grasped the arm of Richard, and shook it gently; the first touch aroused him, and he sprang from the ground. "Is there danger, sir ?" he demanded, and his hand caught his sword. "No: silence and follow me," was the reply, and Richard obeyed. The Cavalier threw open the door of the hut, and stepped out on the cliff, followed closely by his companion. Having closed again the door, and advanced some trifling distance, he paused, and looked around him. The storm had died away, and a clear night had succeeded its violence; the moon was now sinking, while in the east, a few streaks of early light foretold the approach of dawn. The cliff on which the hovel stood divided the common road to Brighthelmstone from the coast; the ascent to it from the road was steep, but far from difficult, while the part that fronted the ocean overhung in some trifling degree. A rugged path, dangerous to inexperienced climbers, led from the hut to the sea-shore beneath it, and the tattling neighbours sometimes said, that Hans Molken might be seen occasionally toiling up it with a hamper on his back-but perhaps this was scandal. mere Clifford, for such was the name, assumed or real, of the Cavalier, appeared lost in thought, and Richard stood by his side with his arms folded on his breast, patiently awaiting whatever his companion might eventually choose to communicate. "You remember," at length he said, "that while concealed in the house of Sir Roger Myrston, I became desperately enamoured of his fair daughter, the Lady Roselle. "I do remember it well, sir," answer ed his companion drily," and I also remember that you fell likewise desperately in love, at the same period, with her cousin who was visiting there, and her cousin's sister, and also her own waitingwoman." "Nonsense, Richard, nonsense; it was the beauteous Roselle, aud her only, I adored." 66 Perhaps so, sir; and I recollect I used to think then that your passion was increased because you knew she loved another." "It might be so. The girl must surely be bewitched to love a rascally Roundhead, with his sanctimonious phiz, and hypocritical eye, impious conversation, and rebellious sentiments." "I never, I must confess, sir, saw, Colonel Selworth; but people do say he is very different from the character you describe, except in the last particular, and that, perchance, renders him interesting in the lady's eyes.' 66 Well, well, a truce to this trifling," said Clifford, warmly, "listen to me; of all that I have loved, or fancied I loved, the daughter of Myrston reigns pre-eminent; nay, so much do I adore her, that the greatest love I ever felt before sinks into mere admiration in the comparison. Richard," and he grasped his arm almost convulsively, "give me but your assistance, and she shall become the partner of my exile." His companion staggered back several steps, overcome with sudden astonishment at its unexpected conclusion. "Is it possible! Do I hear aright?" "Yes, yes, she has fled from her father, the firm old royalist, with Cromwell's officer, Robert Selworth, and they "Where?" demanded Richard. Clifford pointed to the cottage: "They sleep there; they are the fugitives." "Then that, " said Richard exultingly," explains why they come to be travelling so late. Doubtless they leave England,, she to fly from her father's resentment, for having dared to love a Roundhead; he to free himself from the power of Cromwell, having dared to love the daughter of a Cavalier." "Pause not now to speculate so uselessly, but listen to my plan, and remember that, in assisting to rob a Roundhead of his intended bride, you assist to avenge your king on one of his enemies. Here is a powder, it is a powerful soporific; mix it with brandy, and dexterously contrive to induce the Roundhead Colonel to take it. It will immediately take effect, and undeterred by his presence, or interference, we can bear the lovely Roselle to yonder smack:"-his finger pointed out a light which shone on the ocean's surface at some distance. "We will conceal the Colonel as she passes from her sleeping room, and a well told tale that he awaits her coming, in the boat, will induce her to descend the cliff in quietness; we can pretend to suppose he is gone on board, and left us to follow him; once there, leave to me the charge of deprecating her anger." "Pardon me, sir, with this wild plot I will have nought to do." The speaker had expected a burst of anger at this plain avowal, but it came not, and, consequently emboldened, he continued : "To reb a Roundhead of his intended bride I would have no objection; but to oppress one who has fled to your refuge for safety, agrees not with my temperament, nor will it with yours, I am certain, if you will but dispassionately observe your purposed conduct. Moreover, sir, it will be but ill requiting the hospitality and loyalty of Sir Roger Myrsion to carry away his daughter to a distant land." "Have you done, sir?" inquired Clif ford. Richard bowed. "I cannot say," continued the former, "that I ever heard Barebones, the leather-seller of Fleet-street, preach; but, it appears to me, that you would far eclipse him in lessons of morality. Be that as it may, allow me to congratulate you on your conversion from staunch cavalier to Roundhead preacher, inform the worthy burgesses you have had a miraculous call, relate all you know respecting that reprobate fellow called Charles Stuart,-not forgetting to receive a reward for the same; bring a guard to this hovel, deliver into their hands the person of your obedient servant, and then, as a return for what silly persons will call treachery, preach and expound to him all the way to the scaffold. Away, sir!" Richard bowed lowly, and turned to withdraw. Clifford watched his proceedings with troubled surprize, and having allowed him to advance several steps towards the hovel, followed and caught his arm "Richard, where go you?" "I go, sir, to my resting place, to sleep for another hour with the dawn I will return to London. "Do so," replied Clifford, throwing violently away the arm he had grasped, "do so, and prithee do not forget my instructions respecting your future conduct." "Ere I leave here, I trust, sir, to see you in safety in yonder vessel.' THE TOWER OF LONDON. True, I talk of dreams.-SHAKSPEARE. The sun had set; and in the dark blue sky The moon had lit her silver lamp on high; Night had veil'd all things in a sable fleece, And busy noise had slumber'd into peace: No more was heard the buz of men around, But balmy sleep and silence reign'd profound: And I, like them, was cradled into rest, My wearied senses were with sleep opprest; My busy mind was wandering far away. 一 Near an old bridge that spann'd the gushing tide, And mark'd the moon-beams, as, they slept + around In modest beauty on the dewy ground, fair. There rose "Twr Gwyn," the eldest of the four, Whose mortar was of pounded bones and gore! Beside it stood the "Rufus Tower,"-behind "The bloody turret," and "the Lion's Wynde." The spirit of my dream was changed; and soon No longer shone for me the smiling moon. Was hung around sepulchral mildew's pall. And one cried," Uncle, wherefore didst thou send § Those cruel men our little lives to end? + How sweet the moonbeam sleeps upon yon bank. SHAKSPEARE. "Twr Gwyn," or the White Tower, according to Fitzstephen, had its foundationstone laid in blood. "The Rufus Tower" was built by William II. "The Bloody Tower," aptly so called from its being the prison; and "the Lion's Wynde" was the ancient menagerie of one of the Edwards. Edward V. and his brother were murdered in the Bloody Tower by their uncle, Richard III. The spot of my dream was changed, and I Deep in a dungeon lay a ghastly thing, Soon to this den there came a stately lord, For on each slender neck a velvet band Was tightly bound; and when with curious hand One I unclasp'd,-lo! gory streams around, To his parch'd lips a blood-besprinkled cup; Smiling as morn, still bright in beauty's bloom, Ye London towers, with many a murder fed, Such was my varied dream:-if my weak pen Has fail'd in telling it to thee again, Remember thou, at least my waking thought; If Justice spare not these, yet Mercy ought. OBADIAH. BRITISH ANTIQUITIES. BINDON HILL. Continued. (For the Clio.) THE question naturally now arises By whom were these strong bulwarks erected, or thrown up?-for they appear to be different from any other encamp ment that we have seen or heard of in England. Were not the Britons then the original founders ? We certainly think not. We believe these ramparts to have been the defensive works of the PHONECIANS. On what grounds? we think we hear our readers ask. We answer, first, not only from its situation, but its stonewalls, its singular outer-entrance, and its circular towers; the discovery lately made by a gentleman in the neighbouring isle of Purbeck, of a settlement for traffic of that people, and also the name it bears, which is purely Phoenecian; Bhin, in that language, signifying a lofty eminence, while don in Celtic, is the name of a fortress, the same as dun in the Scythian. There is also a small lake in the neighbourhood on the borders of Purbeck, called Luckford, from Luc, in the Phoenecian, the sun; in the Latin, Lux, light; English, luck, the metaphor of prosperity, represented by light. The lake is therefore "The Waters of the Sun." And again, that the Phoenecians traded and made settlements on these western shores, is beyond all contradiction. The circular keep-tower of Launceston Castle in Cornwall, is to this day an existing monument of their architecture,* and in Cornish legend, and the Welch Triads, the Phoenecian is represented under the figure of the red and bony giant," Raddwn Gaur." Those traders, those merchant princes, have left undeniable marks of their residence on these coasts in the etymology of the names of various places, but want of room for bids us to enlarge on this subject; suffice it for the present to say that Kernew or Cornwall, is derived from the Phonecian Cheren, a horn. Another proof is the similarity of Bindon to the hill-cities of the East. In Palestine, the land of the Phoenecians, we read of numerous fenced cities on the tops * Vide Monumenta Antiqua. of mountains. "Now therefore give to me," said Caleb to Joshua," this mountain, whereof the Lord spoke in that day: for thou heardest in that day how the Anakims were there, and that the cities were great and fenced." Mount Tabor, according to Maundrel and Pocoke, appears to have been fortified with ramparts and ditches, and that within the defences were a number of cisterns formed under ground, for preserving the rainwater, being a place of such vast natural strength, as not only to be resorted to by Barak in the time of the Judges of Israel, on the invasion of Sisera, but also to have been made use of against Antiochus, king of Syria, who besieged and took it by Josephus, who fortified it with additional walls when the Romans invaded Judea. But these cities on the tops of high hills, it must be allowed, are neither peculiar to the Phoenecians or the Britons; their remains are to be found amid the vast wilds of America, and, filled with inhabitants in our day, in the islands of New Zealand. Don Antonio de Ullo informs us that one Indian method of fortification was "to dig three or four ranges of moats quite round the tops of such mountains as, though steep and high, were not subject to frosts; every one of which moats was strengthened by a parapet or bank, whence they could safely annoy the enemy; these were called Paccuras. The innermost bank was always higher than those which were outermost, and within this innermost bank and its moat, they built their huts or barracks." Nor was the inconvenience of being supplied with water only from the fountains of Heaven in these hill-cities an uncommon thing. The tale of Judith is one instance; and in the days of Josephus, (De Bello Jud. c. 1, sec. 1 and 15,) we find that the city Jofopata, which was built on a precipice, and had on all sides except one, valleys of immense depth aad steepness, was supplied solely with rainwater, there being no fountain in the city. Two of these dry wells or cisterns we have lately discovered in another British hill-city. Respecting one of these cities in the present day, we shall give a curious and interesting extract from Diddiard Nicholas's narrative of a voyage to Zealand in 1814 and 15. "Duaterra, the chief, having got all his property on shore, was now ready to conduct me to his town, which, standing, as I mentioned, on the summit of a hill, rendered the approach to it a work of some labour and fatigue. "Before we reached the top we could perceive the town was a fortress of great strength, considering the rude mode of warfare pursued in this island. It was encompassed with a deep and wide trench, on the inside of which was formed a breast work of long stakes stuck into the ground, at a short distance from each other. Passing this fortification, we entered the town itself, which consisted of huts built on each side of little lanes or rather pathways, for they were barely wide enough for one person to pass through at a time." Here we have a complete picture of an ancient British hill-city. But to re turn. About 350 years before the birth of Christ, the BELGE, after passing the Rhine, and obtaining possession of the northern provinces of Gaul, soon crossed the channel, aud wholly subdued, nay, nearly annihilated the Celts on the coast of Kent, Sussex, Hants, Dorset, and Cornwall. The primeval tribes of the Bibroce, Sigontiaci, Durotriges, Hodui, Cimbri, and Carnabii, all fled before them, and where those had dwelt they fixed their own colonies of the Cantii, the Rheni, the Belgæ proper, the Attribates, the Morini, and the Danmonii. From Bindon's lofty city gates,-hung with the blackened heads of enemies, their gloried triumphs of victory,-the unhappy Celts beheld the rude fleets of the powerful Morini covering the bay of Weymouth! They saw them land, and triumphantly force the strong military line of defence, which the original dwellers on the coast had raised to protect the country and their sacred circle, the high place of sacrifice and blood, on the summit of Pokeswell, and which is still to be seen in many places, running from Weymouth to Bindon Abbey. They saw them cross the hills in their might and glory, and soon they heard of the fall of Dunium their capital, and the destruction of all around them! This fortress of Bindon must have also soon after fallen a prey to the conquerors as they advanced, for the pleasant and strong city of Iburnium was taken before they drew their first defensive line of entrenchment or boundary to the north-east, which is called Combsditch,-in many places to this day a noble and imposing barrier. Eggerdon, Bindon, Flowersbarrow, and Moriconium, other strong hill-fortresses to the north, all shared the fate of the capital. No doubt this Phoenecian-British station, or city, of Bindon, like the other Celtic towns, became inhabited by its conquerors, the succeeding Morini, but whe ther, in after ages, it quietly submitted to the invincible arms of Vespasian, or was taken by storm, during the progress of the all-subduing Romans, and its brave but wretched inhabitants put to the sword, cannot possibly, at this remote period, be ascertained. He who wanders amid thy scattered fragments, thou desolate city of the hill, when the moon makes the undulating ocean below beautiful with her silvery light, cannot but heave a sigh for thy fate -for the fleeting vision of thy warlike strength and renown. Thy walls, proud Bindon, are fallen! The red gaunt giant of battle hangs not the savage trophies of fight, the ghastly heads of his conquered enemies, around thy towers,*-the traveller enters not thy gates, thy horsemen and charioteers no longer rush forth to battle,-nor blaze thy mountain ramparts with the sun-brightened armour of warriors! The generations that have dwelt in thee are passed away, as the moonlight clouds glide o'er the dim waters and are seen no more. Silence and solitude rest upon theesave when the ocean-eagle screams to the setting sun from the craggy cliffs, and the tinkling of the sheep-bell floats on the twilight breeze across thy ramparts, as the flocks are slowly driven by the shepherd down thy steep declivities to the fold in the valley. Thou art forgotten like the cities of the desart, and thy pride and thy strength shal! return to thee no more for ever! J. F. PENNIE. Lawrence! sleeps with his Parents in perfect repose! As a Student!-imbued with a love of that truth Which corrects and inspirits the reason of youth; His eye and his hand to one purpose confined, Depicted the beauty and force of his mind: His studies are brought to a natural close, Lawrence! sleeps with past Students in perfect repose! As a Painter!-How like and unequall'd the touch! Not too little of Art, nor of Nature too much! Mellow'd shadow and light on the face and the head, His Portraits exist, though the Painter is dead; This was a barbarous practice of the Britons and Phoenicians, as we know by the bodies of Saul and Jonathan. |