CHAP. VI.

In robes of pureft light
The daughter of religion join'd the train.

Heaven doth with with us, as we with torches do,
Not light them for ourselves: for if our virtues
Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike

As if we had them not.

Shakespeare.

The Domestic--Religion the BandittiParental Distress.

N the midst of this scene, worthy of imitation, an incident occured that at once scattered their dreams of bliss, and all their fond anticipations withered ere they bloffomed.

Martha, a domestic of tried use, was chofen the attendant on the children, and well she deserved the trust-for truth and loyalty were centred in poor Martha.

One morning, as the fun had shouldered the eastern hills, she had risen from her couch, and led her infantile charge to breath the fragrance of the orient morn-Early rifing,' faid Martha, ' is conducive to health, and health is certainly one of the choiceft blessings dispensed to erring mortals; but ah! how many prostitute the gift, and thoughtless youth, slighting the precious maxims of old age, are often doomed to that cold receptacle, the grave, by drinking deep the facinating bowl, and victims of unwarrantable paffions. Too late the rejected maxims are difcovered on the feat of reafon.

Religion, when tempered with prudence, and void of the rigid austerity of former days, produces in the mind fublime ideas, and teaches the dying christian to' depart in peace,' in the fond hope of endless happiness.

Martha had placed a feat at the foot of an aged oak, a fhort way from the precincts of the castle. According to the usual custom of antiquity, this feat faced the east, and every morning the pious domestic here folicited blessings from the bounteous hand of providence on her illustrious friends.

In this spot she taught the lovely innocents the power of the immortal disposer of all fublunary events, and that ingratitude to his mercies was finful and impious. But by obeying his mandates, founded ever upon virtue, it would gain them gilded palaces beyond the fun, and univerfal love on earth.

The children, awed by the impressive manner of their kind instructress, would clasp their little hands-bend their finewy knees to the earth, and beg of him who rides upon the wind, to guide them from all error-to make their way, the way of gratitude and true devotion, and promised all obedience to his will then circling their tender arms around the neck of the delighted Martha, would almost oft devour her with their kisses.

In one of those peaceful moments, when the pious domestic was employed in inculcating the moral precepts of religion, a troop of horfemen passed the oak. The foremost, who appeared the leader, a man of ferocious deportment, called aloud an halt-accustomed to controul, they instantly obeyed-a signal from their chief was given, and suddenly they formed around the affrighted children. The leader, addressing himself to Martha, imperioufly enquired if her charge refided at the castle, and whether they were not the offspring of Sir Alwyne? On an anfwer in the affirmative, he commanded his followers immediately to feize the infant prattlers, and place them carefully before two of his callous associates-a stern smile, inherent to barbarity, accompanied his order, and notwithstanding the

shrieks and struggles of Martha, the heartpiercing cries of the little fufferers, bore them triumphantly away, and the ruffians were foon lost sight of in the impervious recesses of the forest.

On this intelligence reaching the castle, the afflicted baron armed his faithful retainers, and followed the fugitives but in vain. Great rewards, and offers of the most liberal nature, for the discovery of the banditti, were every where circulated-no intelligence could be heard concerning his lost children, and the chiestain returned to share the forrow of his difconfolate partner in affliction.

reeking with his blood, he raised the most horrid yells, which led his purfuer to the spot.

The dauntless hero, leaping from his steedentered the delapidated building, and drawing forth his trenchant steel, followed hard his prey.

After traversing o'er piles of fallen grandeur, he entered a part leading to what had formerly been the cementery of the abbey. A dismal groan re-echoed through the ruin-fear smote his heart with terror-his pulse quickened a pale light shot tho' the darkened gloom, and his benumbed hand let fall the glitt'ring steel.

'Whoe'er thou art,' faid he, in a voice scarcely articulate-speak-I charge thee!'

A beauteous lady, the image of his adored Elwina, stood before him-her spotless robes fmeared in blood, and from a gaping wound in her bosom gushed a torrent of crimfon hue.

Haste, haste-to save Elwina!' cried the spectreshe vanished and the trembling chieftain was left shrouded in darkness.

On regaining his scattered senses, he fought his way from the ruin-his horfe had feized the moment of liberty, and fled across the moor towards the castle.