The first of the accompanying illustrations represents Margaret of Anjou and Arthur Philipson in Strasburg Cathedral. When Philipson, who had been bred a devoted adherent to the dethroned line of Lancaster, of which his father was a firm supporter, saw the dauntless widow of Henry VI., whose courage and policy had upheld the sinking cause of her husband, he threw his bonnet on the pavement and knelt at the feet of the injured Queen. Margaret, throwing back the veil which concealed her majestic features, gave one hand to the young knight, who covered it with tears and kisses, and with the other endeavoured to raise him from the posture he had assumed. [Illustration: 127] [Illustration: 128] The second illustration represents "Philipson and the German Innkeeper." Philipson inquired for the landlord, and was answered by a finger pointed towards a recess behind the great stove, where, veiled in his glory, the monarch obscured himself from vulgar gaze. He was short, stout, bandy-legged, and consequential; his countenance and manner differing from the merry host of England or of France. Philipson was too well acquainted with German customs to expect the suppliant qualities of a French mâitre d' hotel, or the frankness of an English landlord; but this man's brow was a tragic volume; his answers were short and repulsive; and the tone as sullen as the tenor. THE SURGEON'S DAUGHTER. THE "Surgeon's Daughter" was published in 1827, in the second series of the "Chronicles of the Canongate." The first plate represents Julia de Moncada and her father. "Follow me, gentlemen," said Gideon, "and you shall see the young lady." And then, his strong features working with emotion at anticipation of the distress which he was about to inflict, he led the way up the small staircase, and, opening the door, said to Moncada, who had followed him--"This is your daughter's only place of refuge, in which I am, alas! too weak to be her protector. Enter, sir, if your conscience will permit you." The stranger turned on him a scowl, into which it seemed as if he would willingly have thrown the power of the fabled basilisk. Then stepping proudly forward, he stalked into the room. He was followed by Lawford and Gray, at a little distance. The messenger remained in the doorway. The unhappy young woman heard the disturbance, and guessed the cause too truly. It is possible she might have seen the strangers on their descent from the carriage. When they entered the room, she was on her knees beside an easy-chair. Moncada uttered a single word, but none knew its import. The female gave a convulsive shudder, such as that by which a half-dying soldier is affected in receiving a second wound. *****