LETTER XI.

From the same to the same.

A TALE OF OTHER TIMES.

Penruddock Hall.

I TOLD you in my last, that if any thing worth communicating arose during a farther intercourse with the interesting,owner of this interesting place, you should have the benefit of it. Prepare, then, for something of no ordinary kind; at least I, who am fond of eventful biography, have seldom had my curiosity so arrested as to day :

:

“And listen why, for I will tell you now,

What never yet was heard in tale or song,

From old or modern bard, in hall or bower."

I mentioned to you that Penruddock's library was packed to be sent to Holland, to await his arrival abroad. A few choice books alone were excepted, which one morning we found upon his table, ready to be disposed of with somewhat more care than their departed brethren.

One of these, a thin but beautifully-bound folio, with purple silk markers, and fringes of gold, was, I perceived, manuscript, and it challenged my attention the rather, because Oldacre seemed to greet it as an old friend, observing to me that it was an interesting legend, of which few family histories could show the like. "But how," said he to the Baronet, "has it escaped being placed in those wooden prisons, to which the rest are condemned? I suppose you retain it as a choice compagnon de voyage." Then, turning to me, he said, "I assure you, you might travel far, and your nil admirari would be much put to it before you could find the equal of what is there recorded; and if our friend thinks sufficiently well of your loyalty, you would do well to get his permission to peruse it while we are here."

You may suppose I seconded this motion, and the grace was at once accorded by the Baronet, who added, however, a proviso, that I would not raise my expectations too high in consequence of Oldacre's account.

"I do not deny," said he, turning over the leaves, which were in a clear woman's hand," that the narrative this contains is of an almost miraculous intervention of Providence, to restore the hopes of a family thought past hope; and this excites my gratitude, as well as interest, beyond any thing

I know. But that is, I suppose, because I am so concerned in it. The value, however, which I have for it, is much enhanced by its being in fact the work of my sister Bracebridge, who compiled it from the original documents. At the same time," added he, "I must repeat my caution to you, not to raise your expectations too high; for though not in the absolute course of things, there is nothing in the story but what we may be justified to believe, in so eventful a time as that which produced the overthrow of a monarchy, the murder of one king, and the restoration of another. When states are thus thrown down, or wonderfully restored, it cannot be surprising if private families should exhibit a portion of the same wonder."

This raised my desire to be acquainted with the manuscripts more and more; and I eagerly seized, and retired to my room with it, and except at meals, and a short ride with the two squires, was invisible for two whole days.

Behold the fruits of my retirement.

THE

PENRUDDOCK NARRATIVE.

It was after that eventful and frightful time when, to use the words of the sacred service appointed for its commemoration, "it pleased the terrible judgment of God, in his just displeasure, to suffer the life of King Charles I. to be taken away by the hands of cruel and bloody men." Cromwell had himself departed to his account; the strifes consequent on his death had yielded to the universal wish for peace in this abused nation; Charles II. had just been restored, and the injuries and robberies which had been committed were being redressed. It was at this time that a gentleman of the name of Ratcliff, of the Derwentwater family, with his servant, was hastening on, at a brisk trot, on the road to Namur, anxious to save the hour of closing the gates, which, in that period of insecurity, was strictly adhered to.

It was late evening, and the sky, blacker than usual, threatened a coming storm, which began to pour down long before the solemn curfew from the town had swung sullenly along the shore of the Maese. The travellers were completely wet through, by the time the bell was heard, denoting to their

mortified ears the impossibility of their being housed for the night, where they had hoped to repose, after a fatiguing day's journey.

Mr. Ratcliff, in this emergency, reined up his horse, and, as usual when any difficulty occurred, called honest Robin Lowe, his groom, to his aid. “Thank God,” said Robin (who was as much a cavalier as his master), we are not now in England in the time of the parliament men, who might show us worse luck than even to ride about all night in the rain."

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The luck, however, grew worse than Robin expected; for it blew a strong equinoctial, so as almost to blister their faces with the rain, as if with the force of small shot; and their situation was rendered more mortifying by the contrast between their want of protection, and the shelter of the town, plainly exhibited by numerous lights, now not far distant.

In this dilemma they almost wished to be made prisoners by a horse patrol, which, spite of the storm, had sallied from the gates to go their usual rounds, and stopt them with the Qui vive?

The sergeant who commanded said it was totally impossible to comply with Mr. Ratcliff's request, even to be conducted to the guard-house; but invited him to accompany him about half a mile on the road, when they would arrive at the convent of St.