Forthwith a guard, at every gun, was placed along the wall; The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecombe's lofty hall; Many a light fishing-bark put out, to pry along the coast; And with loose rein, and b.l.o.o.d.y spur, rode inland many a post.

With his white hair, unbonneted, the stout old sheriff comes, Behind him march the halberdiers, before him sound the drums: The yeomen, round the market cross, make clear and ample s.p.a.ce, For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her Grace: And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells, As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells.

Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down!

So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field, Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Caesar's eagle shield: So glared he when, at Agincourt, in wrath he turned to bay, And crushed and torn, beneath his claws, the princely hunters lay.

Ho! strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight! ho! scatter flowers, fair maids!

Ho! gunners! fire a loud salute! ho! gallants! draw your blades!

Thou, sun, shine on her joyously! ye breezes, waft her wide!

Our glorious _semper eadem!_ the banner of our pride!

The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's ma.s.sy fold-- The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold: Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea; Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be.

From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay, That time of slumber was as bright, and busy as the day; For swift to east, and swift to west, the ghastly war-flame spread-- High on St. Michael's Mount it shone--it shone on Beachy Head: Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire.

The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glittering waves, The rugged miners poured to war, from Mendip's sunless caves; O'er Longleat's towers, or Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery herald flew, And roused the shepherds of Stonehenge--the rangers of Beaulieu.

Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out from Bristol town; And, ere the day, three hundred horse had met on Clifton Down.

The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the night, And saw, o'erhanging Richmond Hill, the streak of blood-red light: The bugle's note, and cannon's roar, the death-like silence broke, And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke; At once, on all her stately gates, arose the answering fires; At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires; From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear, And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer: And from the farthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet, And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed down each roaring street:

And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din, As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in; And eastward straight, from wild Blackheath, the warlike errand went; And roused, in many an ancient hall, the gallant squires of Kent: Southward, from Surrey's pleasant hills, flew those bright couriers forth; High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor, they started for the north; And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still; All night from tower to tower they sprang, they sprang from hill to hill; Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's rocky dales; Till, like volcanoes, flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales; Till, twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely height; Till streamed in crimson, on the wind, the Wrekin's crest of light; Till, broad and fierce, the star came forth, on Ely's stately fane, And tower and hamlet rose in arms, o'er all the boundless plain; Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent, And Lincoln sped the message on, o'er the wide vale of Trent; Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's embattled pile, And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.

MR. BARKER'S PICTURE.

BY MAX ADELER.

"Your charge against Mr. Barker, the artist here," said the magistrate, "is a.s.sault and battery, I believe?"

"Yes, sir."

"And your name is----"

"Potts! I am art critic of the _Weekly Spy_."

"State your case."

"I called at Mr. Barker's studio upon his invitation to see his great picture, just finished, of 'George Washington cutting down the cherry-tree with his hatchet.' Mr. Barker was expecting to sell it to Congress for fifty thousand dollars. He asked me what I thought of it, and after I had pointed out his mistake in making the handle of the hatchet twice as thick as the tree, and in turning the head of the hatchet around, so that George was cutting the tree down with the hammer end, I asked him why he foreshortened George's leg so as to make it look as if his left foot was upon the mountain on the other side of the river."

"Did Mr. Barker take it kindly?" asked the justice.

"Well, he looked a little glum--that's all. And then when I asked him why he put a guinea-pig up in the tree, and why he painted the guinea-pig with horns, he said it was not a guinea-pig but a cow; and that it was not in the tree, but in the background. Then I said that, if I had been painting George Washington, I should not have given him the complexion of a salmon-brick, I should not have given him two thumbs on each hand, and I should have tried not to slue his right eye around so that he could see around the back of his head to his left ear. And Barker said, 'Oh, wouldn't you?' Sarcastic, your honour. And I said, 'No, I wouldn't'; and I wouldn't have painted oak-leaves on a cherry-tree; and I wouldn't have left the spectator in doubt as to whether the figure off by the woods was a factory chimney, or a steamboat, or George Washington's father taking a smoke."

"Which was it?" asked the magistrate.

"I don't know. n.o.body will ever know. So Barker asked me what I'd advise him to do. And I told him I thought his best chance was to abandon the Washington idea, and to fix the thing up somehow to represent 'The Boy who stood on the Burning Deck.' I told him he might paint the gra.s.s red to represent the flames, and daub over the tree so's it would look like the mast, and pull George's foot to this side of the river so's it would rest somewhere on the burning deck, and maybe he might reconstruct the factory chimney, or whatever it was, and make it the captain, while he could arrange the guinea-pig to do for the captain's dog."

"Did he agree?"

"He said the idea didn't strike him. So then I suggested that he might turn it into Columbus discovering America. Let George stand for Columbus, and the tree be turned into a native, and the hatchet made to answer for a flag, while the mountain in the background would answer for the rolling billows of the ocean. He said he'd be hanged if it should. So I mentioned that it might perhaps pa.s.s for the execution of Mary Queen of Scots. Put George in black for the headsman, bend over the tree and put a frock on it for Mary, let the hatchet stand, and work in the guinea-pig and the factory chimney as mourners. Just as I had got the words out of my mouth, Barker knocked me clean through the picture. My head tore out Washington's near leg, and my right foot carried away about four miles of the river. We had it over and over on the floor for a while, and finally Barker whipped. I am going to take the law of him in the interests of justice and high art."

So Barker was bound over, and Mr. Potts went down to the office of the _Spy_ to write up his criticism.

THE WOODEN LEG.

BY MAX ADELER.

"Mr. Brown, you don't want to buy a first-rate wooden leg, do you?

I've got one that I've been wearing for two or three years, and I want to sell it. I'm hard up for money; and although I'm attached to that leg, I'm willing to part with it, so's I kin get the necessaries of life. Legs are all well enough; they are handy to have around the house, and all that; but a man must attend to his stomach, if he has to walk about on the small of his back. Now, I'm going to make you an offer. That leg is Fairchild's patent; steel-springs, india-rubber joints, elastic toes and everything, and it's in better order now than it was when I bought it. It'd be a comfort to any man. It's the most luxurious leg I ever came across. If bliss ever kin be reached by a man this side of the tomb, it belongs to the person that gets that leg on and feels the consciousness creeping over his soul that it is his. Consequently, I say that when I offer it to you I'm doing a personal favour; and I think I see you jump at the chance, and want to clinch the bargain before I mention--you'll hardly believe it, I know--that I'll actually knock that leg down to you at four hundred dollars. Four hundred, did I say? I meant six hundred; but let it stand. I never back out when I make an offer; but it's just throwing that leg away--it is, indeed."

"But I don't want an artificial leg," said Brown.

"The beautiful thing about the limb," said the stranger, pulling up his trousers and displaying the article, "is that it is reliable. You kin depend on it. It's always there. Some legs that I have seen were treacherous--most always some of the springs bursting out, or the joints working backwards, or the toes turning down and ketching in things. Regular frauds. But it's almost pathetic the way this leg goes on year in and year out, like an old faithful friend, never knowing an ache or a pain, no rheumatism, nor any such foolishness as that, but always good-natured and ready to go out of its way to oblige you. A. man feels like a man when he gets such a thing under him. Talk about your kings and emperors and millionaires, and all that sort of nonsense! Which of 'em's got a leg like that? Which of 'em kin unscrew his knee-pan, and look at the gum thingamajigs in his calf? Which of 'em kin leave his leg downstairs in the entry on the hat-rack, and go to bed with only one cold foot? Why, it's enough to make one of them monarchs sick to think of such a convenience. But they can't help it. There's only one man kin buy that leg, and that's you. I want you to have it so bad that I'll deed it to you for fifty dollars down. Awful, isn't it. Just throwing it away: but take it, take it, if it does make my heart bleed to see it go out of the family."

"Really, I have no use for such a thing," said Mr. Brown.

"You can't think," urged the stranger, "what a benediction a leg like this is in a family. When you don't want to walk with it, it comes into play for the children to ride horsey on; or you kin take it off and stir the fire with it in a way that would depress the spirits of a man with a real leg. It makes the most efficient potato-masher ever you saw. Work it from the second joint, and let the knee swing loose; you kin tack carpets perfectly splendid with the heel; and when a cat sees it coming at him from the winder, he just adjourns, _sine die_, and goes down off the fence screaming. Now, you're probably afeared of dogs. When you see one approaching, you always change your base. I don't blame you; I used to be that way before I lost my home-made leg. But you fix yourself with this artificial extremity, and then what do you care for dogs? If a million of 'em come at you, what's the odds? You merely stand still and smile, and throw out your spare leg, and let 'em chaw, let 'em fool with that as much as they've a mind to, and howl and carry on, for you don't care. An' that's the reason why I say that when I reflect on how imposing you'd be as the owner of such a leg, I feel like saying, that if you insist on offering only a dollar and a half for it, why, take it; it's yours.

I'm not the kinder man to stand on trifles. I'll take it off and wrap it up in paper for you; shall I?"

"I'm sorry," said Brown, "but the fact is, I have no use for it. I've got two good legs already. If I ever lose one, why, maybe, then I'll----"

"I don't think you exactly catch my idea on the subject," said the stranger. "Now, any man kin have a meat-and-muscle leg; they're as common as dirt. It's disgusting how monotonous people are about such things. But I take you for a man who wants to be original. You have style about you. You go it alone, as it were. Now, if I had your peculiarities, do you know what I'd do? I'd get a leg s.n.a.t.c.hed off some way, so's I could walk around on this one. Or, it you hate to go to the expense of amputation, why not get your pantaloons altered, and mount this beautiful work of art just as you stand? A centipede, a mere rid.i.c.klous insect, has half a bushel of legs, and why can't a man, the grandest creature on earth, own three? You go around this community on three legs, and your fortune's made. People will go wild over you as the three-legged grocer; the nation will glory in you; Europe will hear of you; you will be heard of from pole to pole.

It'll build up your business. People'll flock from everywheres to see you, and you'll make your sugar and cheese and things fairly hum.

Look at it as an advertis.e.m.e.nt! Look at it any way you please, and there's money in it--there's glory, there's immortality. Now, look at it that way; and if it strikes you, I tell you what I'll do: I'll actually swap that imperishable leg off to you for two pounds of water-crackers and a tin cupful of Jamaica rum. Is it a go?"

Then Brown weighed out the crackers, gave him a drink of rum, and told him if he would take them as a present and quit he would confer a favour. And he did. After emptying the crackers in his pockets, and smacking his lips over the rum, he went to the door, and as he opened it said,--

"Good-bye. But if you ever really do want a leg, Old Reliable is ready for you; it's yours. I consider that you've got a mortgage on it, and you kin foreclose at any time. I dedicate this leg to you. My will shall mention it; and if you don't need it when I die, I'm going to have it put in the savings bank to draw interest until you check it out."

THE ENCHANTED SHIRT.

BY COLONEL JOHN HAY.

The King was sick. His cheek was red, And his eye was clear and bright; He ate and drank with a kingly zest, And peacefully snored at night.

But he said he was sick, and a king should know, And doctors came by the score, They did not cure him. He cut off their heads, And sent to the schools for more.

At last two famous doctors came, And one was as poor as a rat,-- He had pa.s.sed his life in studious toil, And never found time to grow fat.

The other had never looked in a book; His patients gave him no trouble: If they recovered they paid him well; If they died their heirs paid double.