ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA :
Satnrimn fUorninn, June 10, 1855.
Sclcdcb ipoctnt.
GIVE.
BY MRS. L. 11. SKSOCKNEV.
'• It i* more blessed to give than to receive."
Give prayers ; the evening hath begun ;
Be earlier than the rising sun ;
Remember those who feel the rod ;
Remember those who know not God.
His hand can boundless blessings give ;
Breathe prayers, through theni the soul shall live.
Give alms ; the needy sink with pain ;
The orphans mourn, the crushed complain.
Give freely : hoarded gold is dust,
A prey to robbers and to rust.
Christ, through his poor, a claim doth make ;
Give gladly, for thy Savior's sake.
Give books : they live when you are dead ;
Light on the darkened mind they shed ;
Good seed they sow, from age to age,
Through all this mortal pilgrimage.
They nurse the genus of holy trust;
They wake untired when you are dust.
Give smiles, to cheer the little child,
A stranger on this thorny wild ;
It bringeth love, its guard to be—
It, helpless, aketh love from thee.
Howe'er by fortune's gifts unblest.
Give smiles to childhood's guileless breast.
Give words, kind words,to those who err ;
Remorse doth need a comforter.
Though in temptation's wiles they fall,
Condemn not—we are sinners all.
With the sweet charity of speech.
Give words that heal, and words that teach.
Give thought, give energy to themes
That perish not like folly's dreams.
Hark! from the islands of the sea,
The missionary cries to thee ;
To aid him on a heathen soil,
Give thought, give energy, give toil.
§ 111111 b C;tl e.
Earl Warwick's Seal Ring.
BY MISS I.AWREXCE.
"If there 1m? one that can foretell
The fir-t decrees of fate, be, too, should know
What is within the everlasting hook
Of destiny decreed cannot by wit
Or man's invention be dissolved or shunned."
Lodovic IJARRY.
The period distinguished by the wars of the
Hoses, although characterised perhaps beyond
any other by the unprincipled strife of ambi
tious nobles, and by those restless and capri
cious changes of popular feeling which always
indicate a transition state of society, although
exhibiting few instances of pure and lofty pa
triotism, or generous self-devotion, is yet in
tensely interesting, from the solemn moral les
son which each page presents. From the mur
der of the Duke of Gloster to the deatli of
Richard at Dosworth, all along the track of
those disastrous forty years, vengeance, slow
but unerring, is seen, like the fabled Nemesis,
following, with stealthy footstep, each short
lived claimant of power, and meting out his
just doom. Each and all are involved in the
web of inextricable fate ; the deceiver is de
ceived, the betrayer is betrayed, the murderer
falls beneath the axe or dagger while omen,
prophecy, dream, prognostic, each mysterious
shadowing forth of the unknown future, sheds
a poetical character over each scene. And,
arising partly from the unsettled, though ad
vancing, state of knowledge, but more from
the changeful aspect of public affairs, scarcely
can any period be found in our history, when
an insight into futurity was more earnestly de
sired, or when those delusive fancies which
pave not only to the star, but to the plant,the
gem, and the flower, the faculty of revealing
it, were more eagerly believed and pursued.—
Startled and amazed at the unlooked-for events
which each day brought to pass around thein,
men turned from a changeful world to question
the steadfast stars, and, anxious, restless, and
distrustful ot their fellow-men, they sought by
1 iiarm and spell to wrest from the lofty intel
ligences of the spheres that unerring knowledge,
that potent aid, which from the inhabitants of
the earth they might ask in vain. And thus
the knowledge that taught the attainment of
insight into futurity was the knowledge !
flight for beyond all other ; and thus was it
' '•it, at a period when " old things were pass- i
I - awa y, and men stood, though they knew
'• n "t. upon the brink of a new ocean that was
v '"' :i t" swallow up the institutions, religious
8! "' Political, of Mediaeval Europe, each wild
'• nni, and each lofty theory, which sought to
• A the fleeting dostiuics of man with an un
w°rhl, was eagerly cherished by the ar-
student ; and astrology took up her un
• "''iiked abode in college hails, and in convent
and many an ecclesiastic, too willingly
; "rg"tfiil that all searches into the future is sin,
j'"'! aside the ponderous tomes of Peter Lom
and St. Thomas Aquinas to gaze on the
-hr face of heaven, and exchanged for the
" ,r "labe and horoscope his accustomed cruci
and breviary.
And a frequent theme of boastful gratulation
a tin? canons of the richly endowed priory
Martin le Grand was it, that one of the
• learned of astrologers dwelt among them;
a, jd ofti-n, while the humble citizen, half asham
y lilii afraid, knocked at the iron-barred door
' if? .sanctuary of St. Martin, to seek, silver
!, !! ,'/' ' ian^!l revelation of the future from
n ' figure-caster" or diviner, whom fear of
-"blows-tree had sent thither for refuge ;
ri.n. ' llst n °bleß of the land, leaving their
_ 1 J trapped pulfrevs before the great gate,
''-'l'-'l, uot to the church to ask counsel of
. 1 • "n, but to the study of Dr. Reynold Dour
.jr";r' P r{ 'pared to " raise up strife and debates,"
'' sit fluietly at hoine—to maintain the
buiiiV l ' K Rose, or to fling out the
the 7 l ' ie — even as stars, through
Ihf! i ntlr<: ar "' often unintelligible reply of
Wopbant, should determine.
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
A right learned man, truly, was Dr. Rey
nold Bourchier, although neither youth nor
even middle age had been passed in the clois
ter. The younger branch of the ancient fami
ly of the Bourchiers, Lords Berners, the fath
er of a promising family, and engaged in courts
and camps, little did he once think that a clois
ter would lie his retreat in age, and the book
of the stars his solace i better for him had it
not been. But in the earlier contests of the
Roses he had suffered loss ; in one of those
wide-spreading epidemics which were always
termed the plague, all his family, save one, had
been cut off, and Reynold Bourchier quitted
England, to forget, in other lands, his sorrows
and his losses. At length, after many years'
absence, he returned, and through the favor of
! that noble, who even then, swayed the desti
nies of the house of York—Warwick—a por
j tion of his lands, Lancastrain though he still
i avowed himself, was restored to him, and he
took up his abode, and eventually the habit,
I by persuasion of his distant relative, Cardinal
Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the
priory of St. Martin's le Grand. And there,
engaged in the delusive study of astrology,and
; sincerely believing its truth, the learned canon
of St. Martin's passed his days, devoting all
his energies to the search into futurity, and to
: wild and vain conjectures what might be the
lot of that young boy—his only grand-son—
who, the son of an attainted Lancastrain, and
born amid poverty and ruin, had yet becn
pointed out by a right learned astrologer as he
in whose hands " the fate of England's crown
should be."
It was in the evening of the 14th of April,
14<>4, that Dr. Reynold Bourchier was seated
, at his desk in his study, while, occupying the
high-backed oak arin-cliair, with eyes intently
and inquiringly fixed on him, sate a middle
aged, dark-haired, stern-featured, man, whose
loose cloak almost concealed from view the
gold-broidered vest, sure proof, in that age of
sumptuary laws, that the woarer bore the rank
of an Earl. But no ordinary nobleman was he \
who sat watching earnestly, as the scholar the
lips of his teacher, the solemn brow of the as- j
trologer, but Richard Neville, Earl of Salsbury !
aud Warwick, Lord High Chamberlain of En- [
gland, Lieutenant of Ireland, and Captain of
Calais, that most fortunate of nobles, that most
, indomitable of warriors, that first of Edward's
subjects—if subject he might be called. At
length Dr. Bourchier spoke. " There is jeoj
ardy, and much that time alone may discover;
still the stars point out a yet loftier destiny,
and seem to say " all things are possible to
Warwick.""
" But this secret mission to bring home a
bride for Edward ? Said ye not that he would
: wed at home ? and said ye not daughter Auue
[ should be queen !"
"So saith her horoscope ; but there are
• J other kings besides Edward," replied the as
; ! trologer.
Warwick looked angrily at the speaker.—
; "A\ hat ! is the Red Rose to lift her head
again ?"
" What will be, will be," was the solemn re
ply ; "for the present, the star of York is in
the ascendant."
" And shall be, while Warwick hath voice to
command, or hand to fight ; no, the swan may
take wing, and the antelope flee, but the white
bear will ever be steadfast to the white falcon
1 of York."
" Be calm, Lord Warwick," said Dr. Bour
chier.
" Ye are a Lancastrain," returned Warwick
impetuously, " and therefore ye see omens of
ill to York."
" I see none to York, but soothly I see what
I would not In this mission ; when set you
out ?"
" As speedily as a fortunate day may be
found."
" That will be long."
j "Perchance, after all, my mission may not
succeed, for it is no wish of Edward's, and I j
may see my first wish fulfilled, my grand-chil- j
dren heirs to the crown of Plantagciiet."
The astrologer drew a huge book to him,and
slowly turned over the leaves ; he paused, as ■
though engaged in anxious thought, and at ;
length said, "Lord Warwick, wouldst thou!
learn thy future destiny, watch wheu the Corn- j
plin bell strikes, and thou shalt know."
" Whatever be that destiny, 1 shall ever ad- i
here to York," said Warwick, sternly.
" Say nought, Lord Warwick—watch and
, see."
"St. George ! thou bitter Lancastrain, shall
I who have sworn eternal hate to Margaret—l,
who with my own hands led King Henry to
i the Tower—l, who swore through life and j
, death never to desert the cause of York, when !
I when we exchanged our rings before the high )
'altar at Canterbury—l, who placed with my j
; own hands the crown on young Edward's i
head !—nay, said ye not yourselves that our
destinies are linked together for weal aud for
wo ?"
" For weal or -dor wo, Lord Warwick—
and destinies may be linked in hate as in
love."
" They are linked in love, old man,"' cried
Warwick fiercely. "Seek not to cozen me with
lying prophecies ; let the Red Rose, an she
dare, lift her head again ; still shall she find me
ready to throw down the gage, and bid my
deadliest enemy take it up ;" and, almost un
consciously, he started up, drew off his broi
dered glovo, aud flung it on the ground.
" Touch it not, Lord Warwick," said the
astrologer, solemnly ; " the hour is come, and
the man, for your deadliest enemy is at hand."
The deep-toned boll of St. Martin's tolled
loud and clear, and Warwick, awe-struck, stood
gazing at the closed door.
" Away, Lord Warwick ! there are footsteps
on the stairs ; hide behind the traverse," said
the astrologer, as with an interest that was
even painful, he watched the opening door
and hiiu who now entered, and entered laugh -
iugly.
He was of tall and singularly graceful figure;
of his features, which were shrouded, and evi
dently intentionally, in the large mantle, but
little couki be seen, save a bright, merry, blue
eye ; but that eye was sufficient to reveal to
Warwick that no deadly enemy, no fierce Lau
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" resaudless of denunciation from any quarter."
castrain, stood before him, but he to whom just
before had pledged his faith, he, on whose
head he had placed the crown— Edward, the
King !
" Ha I what omen is this ?" cried he, bound
ing recklessly forward, and snatching up the
glove ; " would it had been a fair lady's !"
A second person, shorter, and equally shroud
ed from view, who had followed him in, drew
him aside and whispered earnestly to him. He
drew back, and the other came forward. "We
are sons of a country knight, said he : " my
brother is about to marry one of two fair dam
sels, but the one is English, the other French;
now which shall he take ?" and he laid a small
piece of parchment, which contained a horo
scope, before the astrologer, who, casting an
earnest glance toward the disguised monarch,
unfolded it. Long and anxiously did he pore
over it, regardless of the impatience manifested
by his visitants. "He will take the English
woman," said he, at length.
Edward laughed loudly. " Many thanks, Sir
Astrologer, for your pleasant prediction," said
he, carelessly tossing a purse of rose-nobles on
the desk. " Aye, Richard, your falcon is mine,
fairly won by St. Mary." His companion ear
nestly pressed his arm, and spoke some words
in too low u tone to be heard, and they hastily
quitted the room.
" And this is my deadliest enemy !" cried
Warwick, rushing from behind the traverse,
almost ere the door had closed. " Old man,
what mean you ?" and the quivering lip and
the deadly paleness of his brow told how struck
he had been with the omen.
" He is," said Dr. Hourchier, solemnly; "know
ye him ?"
" A mrw him ? Holy saints ! who knows not
Edward ?"
" The horoscope I well knew to be his, and
I earnestly endeavored to see who had brought
it ; but surely never would the king himself be
the bearer. St. Mary 1 Edward of York in
my cell." _
"1 le was, and his brother Richard. Ye know
him not as I do ; what is there foolish or reck
less that Edward of York would not go after
most willingly ? Ye sec the match with the
lady Dona liketh not him, and, half in sport,
half in earnest, he hath wagered with his
brother to come hither and ask your coun
sel."
" The holy saints have you ever in their
steadfast keeping, Lord Warwick !" said Dr.
Dourchier, earnestly gazing upon the awe-striek
cu countenance of that bold warrior, who, on
the battle-field, had never known fear. "Little
as yourself could I ever believe that King Ed
ward would seek my counsel. Rut it hath been
so ; he hath taken up your gage, and you must
abide his challenge."
Warwick sate long in moody silence ; lie
well knew that in this case there could have
been no collusion, and he shuddered at the aw
ful omen ; still he could not bring his mind to
believe that Edward, who, wayward and reck
less as he was, had ever regarded him as a fa
ther, should turn against him, nor that he, the
prop and the stay of the house of York.should
lift his hand against that edifice which lie, be
yond every other, had labored to uphold, and
in whose stability, he, too, beyond all others,
was so deeply interested. At length he spoke!
" Give me counsel, good Dr. Dourchier; for
myself I know not what to do."
" Right willingly would I, Lord Warwick ;
but here is a cloud which I cannot penetrate,
aud future events alone can throw light upon
the omen of this evening. Do this—set out on
your mission as speedily as you can, for the re
sults of that will show what your after-course
must be." The astrologer paused, for again
footsteps were heard 011 the stair; the door
opened, aud a beautiful boy, about sixteen years
of age, bounded in. " My young Amias, where
fore art thou here ?" said he, gazing at him
with much fondness.
The boy laughed. " Master Philip Malpas
sent me hither," said he ; "good grandfather,
are ye not glad to see me ?" He paused and
drew back, for he perceived that he was in the
presence of a stranger, whose eyes were intent
ly fixed upon him.
" Come hither, young boy," said Warwick ;
" what hold you in your hand ?"
The boy advanced timidly. " A fair, broi
dered glove, which a young man flung towards
me, just as I entered the great gate," said he,
holding it out to Warwick, who eagerly snatch
ed it.
"St. Mary ! my own glove 1" said he.
The astrologer looked at the Earl, and then
at his grandsou, with a troubled countenance,
while Warwick rose to depart. " Mcthinks
this omen after all is not so gloomy," said he;
" my gage hath been returned, not exchanged,
and by a fair young messenger," and he strok
ed the fair boy on the head. " Farewell, Dr.
Dourchier," continued he, " I will set out to
morrow, and the holy saints clear up this strange
mystery."
" Heaven grant it, Lord Warwick !" ex
claimed the astrologer, earnestly, as lie de
parted. " St. Mary is my witness, how little
I ever dreamt such an omen would come to
pass."
" Is f/uif Lord Warwick, the King-maker?"
said the boy, turning to his grandfather, "mc
thought I saw him last night."
" Where ?"
" Oh, only that I dreamt of him, and mctho't
I had his white bear and ragged staff worked
on my breast. I little thought I should see
him to-day."
" And wherefore was it that ye came hith
er ?"
" Old master Philip Malpas, the goldsmith,
bade me come, for he said he sought an hour's
talk with you, and would pray you send word
when he should coine."
"It is well," said the astrologer ; "I
should like an hour's converse with him, for lie
is a learned man"—and again he turned to his
desk and pored over his great book, as though
unconscious that the only tie which bound him
to the world, his young grandson stood before,
him.
Long after the curfew bell had rung out,
J and the convent had retired to rest, was the
lamp still burning in Dr. Bourchier's study,
| while, employed in meditating on the unlooked-
for events of the evening, and comparing the
horoscopes of the three who had taken part in
them, was earnestly attempting to wrest from
their mysterious symbols that knowledge which
Heaven has forbidden so man. "It must be
so," said he, as he closed his huge book, and
looked out from the open casement at the clear
stars that sparkled above him, while the distant
notes of the organ, and choral chant, told that
his brethren, aroused from their first sleep,
were joining in the midnight "Lauds"—"yes,'
it must be," said he ; " the fates of Edward,
Warwick, and my young grandson, are liuked
in strange conjunction together. Surely it
was no vain prophecy that Baptista Santa
Croce pronounced, when he said, " The fath
of England's crown shall be in that child's
hands."
Time swiftly passed, and Warwick returned
from his mission, and, in state inferior to royal
ty alone, proceeded in his barge to Westmin
ster. But here was no sovereign anxiously
awaiting his arrival, and he was told that Ed
ward had set out that very morning hunting,
and had left a careless message that he had gone
toward St. Albans.
" And to St. Albans will I go," said War
wick, sternly, turning to his retainers. " Sad
dle me my iron-grey steed, and meet meat the
Aldersgate."
One short hour saw him on his road, and
onward he aud his company journeyed in moody
silence, until they reached the neighborhood of
Burnet, when they were roused by the merry
notes of a bugle, and at the same moment a
gallantly-arraved hunter, mounted on a milk
white palfrey, and followed by six horsemen,
passed toward u narrow lane a short distance
before them.
" Saints," cried Warwick, turning to his
nearest attendant, " yonder's Lady Blanche—
and by my lialidome, King Edward !"
The attendant looked earnestly. "It is the
King's grace, mcthinks," said he.
"It is, assuredly,' cried Warwick, spurring
onward, and soon he approached near enough
to recognise in the tightly-fitted vest of green
saye, the jewelled collar, the broidered scarf,
and the flat crimson cap, whose rich heron plume
contrasted so well with the profusion of rich
golden hair, the vain and graceful Edward
Plantagenet, who stopped, turned gaily round,
and his bright laughing eyes met the stern glance
of Warwick.
Hie color mounted to his brow, as he drew
back, endeavoring to conceal his vexation.—
" My lord of Warwick rides fast this morning."
said he.
" The messenger needs, when he for whom
the message is intended doth so," was the re
ply. " Methought we should have met in Lou
don."
" e awaited your coming until yesternight,
and then we set forth to disport ourselves this
sweet spring-tide weather," said Edward, care
lessly ; " but how have ye sped ?"
" Well, my liege ; —should ye choose to mar
ry the Lady Bona, all is ready."
" And what if I should not' ?"
" Wherefore thought ve not of this be
fore ?"
" Soothly T did—but the council would give
their judgment that Edward should wed none
but a damsel of royal birth. St. Mary ! they
will be mistaken."
Warwick looked earnestly at the speaker.
'• What mean yon, King Edward ? Wherefore,
then, was I sent on this embassy ?"
" Nay, question me not, good* Warwick, for
I have far to ride ere evening, and my lady
love awaiteth my coming."
The bridle-rein dropped from Warwick's
hand, and he fixed his keen eye on the king.
" Your lady-love !"
" Ay, my lady-love, whom I am about to
see," said Edward impatiently.
" King Edward, what mean you ?"
" That I shall follow my own pastime, and
act as best pleaseth me," replied Edward, petu
lantly ; and, turning Lady Blanche toward the
narrow lane, he gal lopped swiftly away.
One moment Warwick sate motionless, and
who can tell the bitternessof the thoughts that
crowded in that one short moment on his mind !
" I will learn all, said he. " Oh, surely that
omen spake truly." He set spurs to his iron
grey steed, and, soon passing the astonished at
tendants, came up with the monarch, whose
light-hearted laugh echoed long. " King Ed
ward," said lie, " one word, and one ouly—do
you wed the Lady Bona ?"
Edward turned angrily round. "We are
too old to be questioned," said he, " and mc
thinks Lord Warwick shows scant courtesy
in thus following us when we wish to ride on
ward."
"I have little wish to follow," said Warwick,
bitterly; "but I demand an answer to my
question—do you wed the Lady Bona ?"
" Demand an answer !" Soothly, Lord War
wick, is Lady Courtesy's adopted sou, to speak
thus to his liege lord !"
" Who made thee so, proml and scornful
monarch ? Who lifted thy banner from the
dust, when thy father's head blackened above
York Gate ? Who raised up the White Rose,
and trampled down the Bed ?"
" Mine own good sword, and mine own good
cause."
" Thine own good sword—what were it to
Warwick's ? and thine own good cause—St.
Mary! it had fared ill, but for the swords of
my followers."
" My Lord of Warwick and Salisbury bears
himself right proudly this morning," said Ed
ward, and a smile, almost of scorn, curld his
beautiful lip. " Perchance he may think to
transfer his aid to the weaker cause ; and sooth
ly pious Henry ucedeth fierce speakers and
fierce fighters, seeing he cau do nought of him
self, far more than he who hath seized his crowu
and can defend it."
"Edward! do yon trifle with mine allegiance?"
cried Warwick, sternly. " Take heed—the
bear may be baited until he turn and rend his
foeinan."
" The bear will always be foremost," said
Edward, bitterly ; and therefore, what wonder
if he should, after all, side with the timid an
telope of Lancaster, when the white falcon of
York breaks the creance by which he hath too
long been held. Well, be it so," continued he.
his reckless impetuosity of temper surmount
ing every better feeling ; " Edward can crush
the Red Rose, should it lift its head again, as
easily as scatter these flowers with his ridiug
wand."
He struck, as he spoke, a beautiful bough
of opening wild roses, which hung half way
across the narrow road ; but not one leaf fell,
and they bounded up again, and waved their
blushing blossoms in defiance. Warwick fixed
his eyes eagerly, as Edward again angrily
struck at the bough—again it bent, again not
a leaf fell, but in the rebound it struck the
white palfrey on the face, who reared and
plunged violently.
" What say ye to the Red Rose, now ?"
cried Warwick. "Oh I there is truth in omens
of ill!" and his thoughts turned to that even
ing when Edward had so unconsciously taken
up the glove.
Edward turned coolly round, and marked
with anger the blank and horror-struck looks
of his attendants. "It is your presence, my
lord, that brings evil omens," said lie, " and
therefore your question I will answer because
it will relieve us from your unwished-for com
pany. Marry the lady Bona I will not; aud
ask ye the reason, I am wed."
"To whom? Edward of York—wed! to
whom ?"
" It is truly fitting that the King of England
should reply to all that Lord Warwick usks,"
said Edward, keeping down his anger to add
bitterness to his sarcasm, "and truly fitting,
too, that Lord Warwick should know my lady
love's name, that, as Lord High Chamberlain
at her comation, he may he ready to do her his
accustomed suit and service. The Lady Eliza
beth Wydvillc is my bride, who, albeit the
widow of one who was only a Lancastrian
knight, is yet daughter to an earl, though he
beareth, not the quarterings of the Beauchamps
and the Nevilles." Edward lifted his cap, with
a mock expression of humility, aud bowed with
a smile of scorn, " And now, hntli my Lord of
Warwick any more to ask ?"
Warwick turned a gloomy look on him, and
with violent effort replied, " Tliou hast baited
the bear—'ware his vengeance."
Edward again bowed with a mock humility,
and, setting spurs to Lady Blanche, swiftly
rode on. The trample of the horses aroused
Warwick from his bitter dream. " Edward,"
cried he, " stay ! wherefore should I keep my
father's ring, when the son thus scorns my
friendship ? Take it, and my defiance !" He
snatched a ring from his forefinger, and flung
it far on the road ; then setting spurs to his
iron-grey, he swiftly rejoined his wandering
company.
Meanwhile Edward rode on in angry silence.
He felt that he was already about to reap the
fruit of his ill-advised marriage, in the hostility,
perhaps the defection, of the most powerful
aud most attached of all his nobles, and it was
with no lovcr-lika haste that he pursued his
journey, until the towers of Grafton rose be
fore him. There, even when the politic Duchess
Jaqueline came forward with flask of wine and
spice-plate, and the fair Elizabeth herself
bounded lightly to meet him, a cloud overspread
his brow. lie set down the cup of untastcd
wine ; he gazed coldly on the delicate features
of his three week's bride, and too well did her
subtle mother perceive, though as yet she knew
not the cause, that no chain, however fine,
could long bind captive the white falcon ot
York.
" Our Ladv sain ye, Lord Warwick," cried
Dr. Bourchier. as, pale and agitated, he enter
ed the study ; " what hath come to pass ? I
sent a message to Warwick House, praying ve
not to see the King to-day, but't was said ye
had not returned."
" And wherefore not ?"
" Because there is jeopardy—danger of loss
of favor, danger even to your house."
" Danger of loss of favor have I already in
-1 curred yes, Edward and I have met, and parted
fre men , p '
" St. Mary!"
" Aye, and he is wed, to the upstart River's
daughter : and he taunted me with my noble
ancestry, with the bearings of the Beauchamps
ami the Nevilles—the bear hath been shrewdly
baited, but the time will come—will it not ?
when he shall be evenged."
The astrologer gazed on Warwick in silence,
struck with astonishment at the accurate fulfil
ment of his own predictions ; at length he
found words. " And what said ye to him ?"
" Defied him, aud flung back the ring that
his father exchanged with me."
" The saints forefend ! aud yet surely that
very ring is on your finger."
Warwick looked hurriedly on the ring which
remained on his right hand. "It is," said he.
" St. George and St. Michael ! 't is mine own
seal ring that I have cast awav."
" Ileed it not, Lord Warwick ; Philip Malpes
will soon make ye a better."
" He c\ ill not, liecannot ; wo worth the day !
would it had been this ring !"
" Say not so ; on that ring depends much,
that time alone will show."
" But on the other depends more ; it was
made by a learned man who will never make
another, finished at a fortunate point of time,
endowed with groat and wondrous virtues. St.
Mary ! fiva hundred marks would 1 willingly
give to him who could restore it."
" Perchance it may be found."
" No, no, my evil destiny prevails ; but truly
whoever brought me that ring might gain
even whatever he asked for."
Both sat in silence—Warwick absorbed in
unavailing grief for the loss of his so highly
prized seal ring, and Dr. Bourchier in anxious
conjectures as to what the peculiar virtues of
that cherished ring could lie, for Warwick had
never before even spoke of it, At length
Warwick rose. " Dr. Bourchier, I thank you
for your skill," said he; "yc have foretold
most truly things which 1 little deemed would
come to pass—show rac how I may avert their
evil consequences. Be a friend to me, as I
have ever shown myself to you, and ask what
guerdon ye please."
" For myself I have nought to ask ; but,
Lord Warwick, my young grandson would I
commend to your care," said the well pleased
astrologer.
vox., xvr.—isro. I.
" I will take charge of him—bid him >e with
me to-morrow, for I shall set forth for Middle
ham Castle ; farewell."
"The blessed saints be praised !" ejacnlated
the canon of St. Martin's, as the proud Earl
of TV a rwiek departed : "the first for my young
Amias is gained—once under the protection of
the white bear, little need I fear for him, and
who may tell what his after-course may be !
0, sweet St. Mary, grant hira but to uplift the
Red Rose banner, and mv last wish will be
fulfilled !"
Warwick departed to Middleham Castle ;
but, ere long, message after message was seut
bv the now repentant Edward, suing for recon
ciliation, which offers of manors and wardships,
and of dignities to be bestowed upon his Re
latives (for on Warwick scarcely could another
high office be heaped,) until, at length, urged
by his brothers and softened bv so many con
cessions, he acceded to the "hollow peace.—
Lands nnd honors were lavished on his brother,
Lord Montague ; the mitre of York itself was
placed on the youthful brow of his youngest
brother, George Neville, the chancellor—and,
in bitter payment for all this, at the feast of
Michaelmas, at the abbey of Reading, Warwick
himself led in the luckless Elizabeth Wydvillc,
to receive the homage of the nobles. " Wait'
and be warv, Warwiek," said the canon of
St. Martin's ; " the time will come at length,
but till then must the bear be chajned."
Six anxious, feverish, unsettled years passed
ed awav, and often was the hollow peace be
tween Edward and Warwick broken, and as
often most unexpectedly made up. Hopes of
the re-blossoming of the Red Rose had almost
fleeted from the minds of even the wurmest
Lancastrians, while the Yorkist, irritated at
! the profligacy and tyranny of their once popular
monarch began to murmur bitterly, if not.
loudly, and to accuse that reckless system of
1 favoritism which had raised even the most
distant relatives of Elizabeth to an equality
| with the ancient nobility of the land. Still
little would the spectator, as he gazed at the
merry faces of the holyday-clad citizens who
j crowded the then wide churchyard of St.
j Paul's and Lndgate, believe that aught of
discontent could find place among them ; but
the day was bright and summer-like, and a
splendid procession, bound to their own
cathedral, and to do honor to their own tutelar
saint, was about to pass by, for it was the feast
;of St. Edward the Confessor ; and King
Edward and his attendant nobles were to offer
| a new cloth of gold pall at the shrine of the
j canonized Erkenwahl.
j " Stand up here, good Margery," said an
! old woman to her companion, who, equally old,
| and leaning on a cross-handled stick, made her
way with difficulty through the crowd—"stand
up just here ; good Master Malpas is not a
| churl, to drive away an old woman from his
I door ; and here we can see all down Ludgatc,
1 and right to the great door of St. Paul's."
1 " Ay, so we can," replied the other, " but.
yet, methinks, we have seen better sights years
agone ; mind ye not, in fifty-eight, when good
I King lleniy, and York, and all the lords, went
j to make up their peace ?"
Right well, but saints, here are so ninnv
i quarrels and reconcilements, one can scantly
| remember them all.
! " And there will be more, with our rightful
! king kept in prison, and his son flying noue
! knoweth where."
" Peace, good Margery, such things may not
be said ; only yesternight Ralph Aston* for
telling some of his neighbors that things would
never go well till my Lord Warwick was fore
most, was sent for by the aldermen."
" And truly, methiuks, wc nil may snv so,"
said a bold looking man. who stood beside, in
a leather doublet and flat worsted cap, the
common dress of the artizans. " Who keepcth
better honse than Lord Warwick ? six fat ox
en cooked every morning for breakfast. I pro
mise ye i had oft times last winter lacked a
breakfast, but for the buttery-hatch at War
wick House."
" And so had T," interposed another, whoso
thread-bare jerkin, stained with rust, and hose
j half nmrray and half blue, the livery colors of
j V ork, showed him to be a disbanded man-at
arms. " Ay, 1 was sent home from Calais
half dead last year, and might have died for
all the lord of Calais would care, but. thanks
to the sanctuary of St. Martin, where I found
a home, (though t' was among beggarly com
pany.) and my noble Lord Warwick's beef and
mutton, I ain e'en ready to fight again, though
it needs not to say for whom."
A significant glance was exchanged between
the four, and Margery in a lower tone said,
" And what did tliev say at Calais about that,
noble earl and the French king ?"
"Say, good wife '! that my Lord Warwick
might even have his will of him. Now that
king is old, and wise, and learned in the stars,
right different I'll warrant re to him yonder,
and he hat li a grizzled beard, aud wearth a
doublet not worth a groat, but, he's very wise,
and, 't is thought by many that, as he readcth
the stars, lie can see somewhat thatwecanuot,
but, that will be."
" Saints grant it ! Av, mcthonght I would
conic out once again," said Magcrv, "to see
my Lord Warwick, and porcliauec i might sco
my own dear foster-child, too."
" J doubt an ye will see Lord Warwick to
day," said the man-at-aruis, " for he was not at
Warwick House this morning."
" St. Mary ! is there a new quarrel ?" ejacu
lated the three.
" Have yc not heard," said a man who had
just come up, " that the king hath had ncwi
that my lord of Warwick and his son-in-law
Clarence have been levying men in their own
name in Lincolnshire, instead of fighting the
rebels ?"
" Rebels ! niarrv, so say all you great oriov
when poor souls half starving take the law into
, their own hands, eried the man in the leathern
doublet.
" Ye say true, good master," replied the
man-at-arms. " What was Robin of Redes
dale's rising, and this of the Lincolnshire men,
but because they lacked bread ?—here's nought
of White Rose or Red in this matter."
j " But, there may be somewhat of the white