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their conversation, before they were interrupted by the monk. "What, my hearties!" said Geoffrey, so these cursed idle wretches have, like curs, bit the hand that fed them."

"No, no," exclaimed the villagers, "Father Eustace says this man was a libertine, and a devil after the wenches." "Well,” replied Geoffrey, “have not I heard old Stephen Mattock say, he was a boy when he helped to make the passage of St. Margaret's nunnery-but its aye he that's the greatest sinner cries out first."

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Yes," replied Hodge, "but that was-that was-I say "

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Ay, that was, I suppose, to avoid the wenches, like their placing their abbey on the banks of that fine trout stream, the Gade, (I like the name-I was christened after it ;) was, no doubt, to make them live abstemiously."

"No," said mine host, "that was to procure fish for Fridays and fast-days."

"And so they made any convenient day in the season a fast-day," returned the impenetrable Geoffrey; "but no doubt that was not for the sake of their carnal appetites."

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No," said Ralph," it was because such days were the anniversaries of some blessed martyrdom."

"Blessed martyrdom, indeed!" said Geoffrey; "I tell you what, mine host, I have seen enough of these abbeys, to be convinced that their inhabitants are a set of canting hypocrites; and, between you and me, (lowering his voice,) my master, Sir Godfrey, has got a commission from the king, to examine into the state of this same Ashridge Abbey; and these monks' refusal to bury their benefactor's descendant will be an ugly circumstance against them I trow."

Sir Godfrey now called his squire, and departed to the house prepared for him; but he first asked his host for a glass of water. That worthy gentleman soon procured some; but it was so muddy and nasty, that the knight asked Ralph whether that was the best he could get.

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Ay, marry, is it," said Geoffrey, "unless you can gain permission from the monks to draw water from their well, which is a special favor, you must be content to put up with what is contained in the ditches hereabouts; and that is none of the most pure.'

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"I think so, indeed, friend Geoffrey," returned the knight;

"this is another instance of the oppression of these proud priests."

The next day a mystery and grand games were to be given at the abbey, and thither Sir Godfrey and his squire repaired early in the morning. The latter saw many of his old friends and acquaintances, by whom he was welcomed to Ashridge, and who regarded the knight with interest, as his commission was now become no secret in the village, where it had been industriously propagated by the worthy hosteller, Ralph Rosing.

The amusements commenced with a mystery, which was too blasphemous to be named here; then followed various athletic games, which the monks countenanced, and which rendered them extremely popular among the villagers. Geoffrey tried his luck at wrestling, but was thrown by a priest, whose frame did not indicate that he was accustomed to abstemiousness. The venerable abbot seemed like a father in the midst of his children, so delighted did he appear at their happiness; but Geoffrey informed his master, that he was well versed in wickedness, though so innocent did he seem, that Sir Godfrey hardly believed the assertions of his squire. At the end of the various amusements, Sir Godfrey thought it time to open the commission from the king, and accordingly he thus addressed the venerable abbot :-" Sir, I have been charged by his majesty to examine into the state of this abbey; and I am sorry to say, that from what I have seen and heard since I have been in this neighbourhood, I shall not be able to make a very favorable report to the king."

At this speech, the real character of the abbot showed itself. He commanded his followers instantly to expel the lying upstart braggart, and that well-known rogue, his squire, which orders were very punctually obeyed by about half a score stout resolute monks, who would not listen to Sir Godfrey's threats, for they trusted to be able to overcome him by the immense power they then possessed, especially as the tyrant Henry had only just begun his work of despoiling religious houses.

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By my troth," said Geoffry, as they stood without, "this is rather rough treatment for a king's legate."

True," replied his master, "but I hope our gracious king will not pass over my reception unnoticed."

"You may rest sure he will not," said Geoffrey, "our bluff King Harry is not of such a forgiving temper as that. He will make those black rascals pay dearly for their day's amusement, I hope."

"And I hope so too; not from any private revenge on my part, but because I think the church now possesses too much power."

So saying, Sir Godfrey approached his temporary dwelling, and his squire gave a thundering rap at the door, which was soon opened, but much sooner shut again. Our hero and Geoffrey remained panic struck at this act, till the woman of the house appeared at the window, and exhorted the heretics to depart from the house of a poor widow woman, and not get her into trouble; then crossing herself, and repeating a paternoster, she quitted the window, and left Sir Godfrey and the squire to take their own course.

They did not long hesitate. They proceeded instantly to the stable, and unloosed their horses, mounting, and riding post-haste to London, to inform the then king, Henry VIII. of the insults which had been offered to his commission. In a few days, Sir Godfrey and his trusty squire was again on the road to Ashridge, but not unaccompanied, as experience had proved that force was necessary to put the commands of the king into execution; they were now escorted by a body of horse. As they approached the scene of action, the country people came out of their houses to view the strange sight. As may be supposed, Geoffrey was not idle in propagating the nature of the knight's mission, and their object was execrated or praised, according to the various opinions of the villagers: by the time they had arrived at Hemel Hempstead, the account of their conduct had become a subject of general conversation, and most of the townsfolk rejoiced at the approaching dissolution of the abbey, as its galling influence was felt much in that

town.

At Little Gaddesden, they found the inhabitants in a ferment, in consequence of their being called on by the monks to aid them in defending the abbey, which they had resolved to do. At the appearance, however, of Sir Godfrey, and the troops, they unanimously declared for the king, and proceeded with his commission to Ashridge, to see the " upshot of the bickering," as honest Ralph expressed himself. Sir Godfrey

wished to proceed leniently with the monks, but they prevented it themselves, by opposing his entrance. On perceiv ing their intention, Sir Godfrey ordered the soldiers under his command to force a passage; but they were well nigh being repulsed in this exploit, as the inmates (especially Eustace,) laid about them with great effect; but the porch being forced, they were obliged to fly, to escape the vengeance of the mob, who now remembered a thousand instances of petty oppression, which they never thought of whilst they were loaded with favors by the very men whom they now condemned. Sir Godfrey having read his authority to the people, amidst loud acclamations, also informed them, that he was empowered to examine, in like manner, the neighbouring nunnery of St. Margaret's. At this, many of those present, who had been domestics of the abbey, offered to show our knight the secret passage, by which the monks were accustomed to visit the nunnery without suspicion from without. Sir Godfrey accepted this proposal, and he soon approached the edifice which was to become the scene of one of the most important events of his life. As they walked silently, the inmates (among whom were many monks who had fled from Ashridge,) could not oppose their design, as they were anxiously expecting their arrival by the usual road. As soon as they appeared, the lady prioress (seeing no help at hand,) approached with the keys of the various cells, and humbly declared that she was always ready to submit to the orders of her liege lord, the king. As for the monks, they again fled for some more secure place of shelter, or to implore the assistance of some powerful nobleman.

Sir Godfrey immediately proceeded to set the nuns at liberty; but most of them wished to remain in their old situation, as they declared the world had no attractions for them. As the last cell was opened, a female rushed out almost frantic with joy, and fainted in Sir Godfrey's arms. The knight recognized in her the destined partner of his hand before he had departed to aid Henry in the French war, the beautiful and accomplished Mary Clifford. He could scarcely believe his eyes at seeing her incarcerated in the nunnery, as he expected to find her with her parents, at their mansion in Northamp tonshire, where he had not been since his return. She explained, that, some time after his departure, her father

and mother thought that the best place for her to await the arrival of Sir Godfrey, would be some religious house, and they accordingly chose the nunnery of St. Margaret's for that purpose. Her parents died soon after; and the prioress, to add their estate to the already overgrown lands of the establishment, gave out that she was dead.

Sir Godfrey rejoiced that his good fortune had sent him on such a propitious mission; and, soon after, the walls of his paternal seat rung with the acclamations of-" Long live Sir Godfrey and Lady Cravensford!"

AN EVENING SCENE.

BY. J. R. PRIOR.

The rainbow faded into space,
Like blushes from the skin
Of Beauty, whose enchanting face
Receives the colors in.

Venus was bright as Hope's young eye,
That looks on Love as true;
Evening unrobed the sun-past sky,
And spread her gem-lit blue.

A flash leapt down the concave height,
And smote the life it caught,
Like the quick glance of Terror's light,
That pierces human thought.

Thunder rehears'd the danger round,
The wind in rain-drops sigh'd;
Fear crept in clefts, and shook in ground,
As Evening's conflicts died.

Just as a breast that peace hath felt,

When passion's storms retire,
Earth at the Throne of Glory knelt,
And look'd in stars of fire:

Her feet the last green meadows kiss'd;
To Faith her flight was given :
She trembled o'er the purple mist,

And stepp'd the clouds to Heaven.

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