“Ay, marry is she,” said the keeper; “and if your worship hath farther commands, you must rest contented with male attendance.” “Commands—umph—I think the damsel might have tarried for another exhortation,” said the soldier—“truly, I profess my mind was much inclined toward her for her edification.” “Oh, sir,” replied Joliffe, “she will be at church next Sunday, and if your military reverence is pleased again to hold forth amongst us, she will have use of the doctrine with the rest. But young maidens of these parts hear no private homilies.—And what is now your pleasure? Will you look at the other rooms, and at the few plate articles which have been left?” “Umph—no,” said the Independent—“it wears late, and gets dark—thou hast the means of giving us beds, friend?” “Better you never slept in,” replied the keeper. “And wood for a fire, and a light, and some small pittance of creature-comforts for refreshment of the outward man?” continued the soldier. “Without doubt,” replied the keeper, displaying a prudent anxiety to gratify this important personage. In a few minutes a great standing candlestick was placed on an oaken table. The mighty venison pasty, adorned with parsley, was placed on the board on a clean napkin; the stone-bottle of strong waters, with a blackjack full of ale, formed comfortable appendages; and to this meal sate down in social manner the soldier, occupying a great elbow-chair, and the keeper, at his invitation, using the more lowly accommodation of a stool, at the opposite side of the table. Thus agreeably employed, our history leaves them for the present. CHAPTER THE FOURTH. Yon path of greensward Winds round by sparry grot and gay pavilion; There is no flint to gall thy tender foot, There’s ready shelter from each breeze, or shower.— But duty guides not that way—see her stand, With wand entwined with amaranth, near yon cliffs. Oft where she leads thy blood must mark thy footsteps, Oft where she leads thy head must bear the storm. And thy shrunk form endure heat, cold, and hunger; But she will guide thee up to noble heights, Which he who gains seems native of the sky, While earthly things lie stretch’d beneath his feet, Diminish’d, shrunk, and valueless— ANONYMOUS.