ready and prompt to save the remnant of those who survived what time "The William Wallace"

"Bulg'd at once, and in the deep was lost!"

The humanity of the Flemish sailors was rewarded by preserving the lives of five individuals, as we have already observed, from a watery grave; great manual and unwearied exertions were necessary for success, and the unhappy sufferers were landed in safety upon the quay of Ostend.

Ostend is well known to every intelligent reader as a strong fortified sea-port; but at the period of our narrative it did not appear under the most favourable point of view, from the devastation that had ensued in consequence of the long protracted siege of three years and three months, which it had sustained against the Spaniards, under the command of Spinola,[5] when fifty thousand of the garrison and inhabitants perished in this fatal siege, either by disease or the sword; which losses were severely retaliated and multiplied by the deaths of eighty thousand of the besiegers!

Upon their landing on terra firma, Colonel Davidson and Doctor M'Kenzie put up their quarters at the old Saint Michael Inn; and there having been refreshed and invigorated by a hearty substantial meal, which fully and essentially answered every purpose of three or four breakfasts, dinners, and suppers, they heartily congratulated each other in a bottle of genuine and veritable Rhenish wine, upon their most miraculous escape from a watery grave! They subsequently retired at an early hour to repose, overcome, as they had been, by their sufferings and fatigue both of body and of mind, to recover, by the renovation of slumber, "kind Nature's gentle restorer," from the lassitude and horrors of this eventful day.

The next morning they arose quite, or nearly, recovered from their past sufferings; however, with the exception of the Reverend Gentleman, who rather somewhat gravely grumbled at the perils which they had passed. Nevertheless, with good seeming appetites, both began a tolerable coup de main et de fourchette upon the breakfast placed before them. Doctor M'Kenzie observed, while he and the Colonel were sipping some admirable coffee, assisted by the agrèments of excellent Flemish bread and eggs, and swallowing con amorè some Malines ham, which, accompanied with a flowing flagon of Louvaine beer, no doubt put the grave and Reverend Gentleman into the following train of thought: "I feel, my dear Sir," said he, "such a decided and unconquerable objection to a sea-voyage, at least for some time to come, from which, although it may be silly in sooth to say I have suffered so much, yet for the present I quite forego my intention of returning to Ireland—I have indeed too much in my recollection the

I therefore purpose to proceed to Aix la Chapelle for the benefit of its waters. Indeed so great is the decided repugnance which I feel to again encounter an aquatic expedition, that in the words of our old classical acquaintance, Ovid, I needs must confess that—

Moreover, gallant Colonel, I must say that I prefer the peaceful scenes of nature and rural life to the war of elements, and the rage of battle!"

"Well spoken, my Reverend Sir, like a peaceful gownsman, and quite becoming the doctrine of that Gospel of which thou art a sacred minister. But as for me, I like the din of battle, the neighing of the noble war-horse, and the battle-stirring trumpet's brazen voice, the groan of death, where contending squadrons commingle in the dreadful shock, chorused by the cheering shout of victory."

The Colonel had just, in an emphatic tone of voice, twice shouted "victory!" and had fiercely made another gallant attack upon the Malines ham, when the door of the apartment was rudely opened, and entered by a party of Gen d'Armes, who immediately proceeded to arrest them as prisoners of war, on suspicion of being spies; and after a short interval they both were led off and escorted to prison, where, attended by the Colonel's servant, for the present we needs must leave them, however reluctant, in durance vile.

The above Chapter, unquestionably in unison both with the history and chronology of our Tale, should indeed occupy a much more remote station in this our Romance of the days of superstition; but as we felt and considered it of importance, and besides imping too our flight with some portion of epic boldness, we have nobly dared and adventured to dash at once "in medias res;" in the pursuance of which truly magnanimous determination, courteous reader, we shall tell thee fair and softly, yet in candour, that we shall necessarily be obliged (if thou wilt so graciously permit us) to make some retrograde motions in the subsequent chapters.

But, gentle reader, if thou wilt deign to recollect, that once a year even mighty Sol himself, beneath Cancer, the influential sign of the summer solstice, becomes retrograde. When thus we plead such high authority thou wilt not perhaps deny an extension of the same privilege, albeit to a disk, small and insignificant even as ours, undiscernible by the eye of a Brinkley or a Herschell![6]

Permit us then, kind and patient reader, to retrace our steps and story to the early part of this our notable history; then shalt thou learn the birth of our interesting heroine, and become acquainted with personages, characters, and events, connected with our Tale, which we trust thou mayst find to be withal not unpalatable to thy taste; for which favour, and all retrogressions, and progressions, and egressions, (we hope no transgressions!) thanks and health to thee, mild and patient reader! We laud thee for thy gentle forbearance and good humour in having accompanied us thus far in this our long peregrination; wishing, courteous reader, that thou couldst bestow on us the "plaudite" of old Plautus, but without his valete, as we shall meet anon!

CHAPTER II.

The lovely Adelaide Raymond, the heroine of our Tale, was the only child of Raymond Duke of Tyrconnel. An old prophecy or tradition had immemorially prevailed, that what time a raven should build her nest in the ducal coronet which decorated the summit of the loftiest