ated, and, as chief magistrate, it would be expected | from him that he should perform his duty with impartiality; he considered he was compelled to sacrifice private feeling for the public good; and, dreadful as was the alternative, he must, he considered, for the sake of justice, bring the affair before the Court. He should be the happiest person in the island, if his kinsman could clear himself, but at present the finger of suspicion pointed so strongly at him as the purloiner of the plate, that, for his part, he repeated, he thought it his duty to prosecute him for the theft. Nevertheless, if he had, in a moment of weakness, taken the missing articles, and would acknowledge his crime, and restore them, he, the bailiff, would in that case, and upon condition of his immediately and for ever leaving the island, save him from certain exposure, and the last dreadful penalty of the law, as death must inevitably be his doom, if found guilty of the crime. All applauded the merciful sentiments uttered by their worthy chief magistrate, and unanimously agreed, that, if Hugh refused the terms proposed by the bailiff, it was the duty of the latter, no less as bailiff than as the loser of the articles in question, to prosecute one against whom there certainly was a very strong presumption of guilt.

Hugh, upon being interrogated, indignantly denied the charge, and sternly refused the proposal of the bailiff to leave the island; on the contrary, he demanded to be brought face to face with his accusers, and that the strictest investigation into his conduct and character should be made. In consequence, he was committed to the custody of the warder of Castle Cornet, in those days used as the common prison, on the charge of stealing the property of Gautier de la Salle.

At first De Massey could scarcely credit the fact, that he was actually a prisoner, and that his kinsman had any serious intention of prosecuting him for a crime of which he knew he was incapable; a little reflection, however, convinced him that it was the determination of De la Salle to destroy him; he had now got him completely in his power, and felt certain that he would exert it and his authority to the utmost to accomplish his purpose. To Jean de St. George, the superior of the monastery of Benedictines, in the parish of Our Ladye of the Câtel, he opened his whole heart, and asserted his conviction of the malicious intentions of his rival. The good father, who had never for an instant doubted Hugh's innocence, and had come to visit him as soon as he heard of his being sent to the Castle, listened to all he had to say, but could not agree with Hugh, that jealousy could drive such a man as Gautier de la Salle to devise such a devilish plot against his kinsman's life and honour. He promised to see Collette, and console her under this cruel stroke of fortune, and also to be present at Hugh's trial, which he was entitled to be from his situation in the island as delegate of the Bishop of Coutances, and where he promised to afford the unhappy prisoner all the assistance in his power.

The day appointed for the trial at length arrived; and Hugh de Massey was arraigned at the bar of the Royal Court for the crime of theft. No one who knew him previously-no unprejudiced person who looked upon him as he entered the Court and took possession of the place appointed for a prisoner, and beheld his noble bearing, his modest, but firm behaviour-could believe him guilty. Walter de Blondel, lieutenantbailiff, occupied the chair; the prosecutor being bailiff, having of course ceded his place upon this occasion.

De la Salle told a plain unvarnished tale, merely stating his loss, and that nothing but a sense of public duty could have induced him to appear there as the prosecutor of his kinsman, of whose honesty, till the inoment when suspicion fell so strongly upon him, he had always had the highest opinion; that it was, perhaps, from the relationship which existed between them, that he felt more compelled than he otherwise might have done to come forward against De Massey, as he, De la Salle, wished to prove to his countrymen, that

his sense of justice was very superior to any other feeling by which he might be supposed to be actuated. That the character of those domestics immediately about him was impugned by this transaction; and, though most reluctant, still from a feeling of justice to all, he felt bound to appear as the prosecutor of De Massey. It was proved most clearly, that none but De Massey, with the exception of the servants, had been seen on the bailiff's premises that day; that he could with the greatest ease have taken the plate and conveyed it to his own house, which had been searched as well as all the other premises, but no traces of the lost articles discovered; that no doubt, on many previous occasions, he had opportunities of taking the utensils now lost, if he had been inclined to do so. The whole of the evidence against the prisoner was entirely circumstantial, but it was strong, and skilfully woven together. Jean de St. George, superior of the Benedictines, that brave and noble soldier, Drouet la Marchant, Captain of the Castle of Beauregard, Nicholas de Beauvoir, Jean de la Land, Walter de Blondel, Jurats of the Royal Court, spoke highly in his favour, and expressed their conviction of his innocence; but in vain! The majority of the Court were of opinion that the crime had been proved, and Hugh de Massey was declared guilty, and sentenced to suffer death, and his property confiscated to the Crown.

It was the duty of the bailiff himself to pass sentence upon the unhappy prisoner, and, although he in vain endeavoured to conceal his satisfaction, it was evident he was pleased with the result of the trial. The prisoner upon being asked by the Greffier d'Etats, why sentence of death should not be passed on him, replied:

"When I say that I am innocent, and have been unjustly condemned, God knows I speak the truth; and to His dispensation I commit myself, trusting to His mercy, in His own good time, to clear my name from the foul blot, which, through the malice of the Evil One, has been attached to it. My judges I forgive, but they have this day condemned an innocent man. Gautier de la Salle ! speak forth the sentence to which your jealousy and malice have doomed me; but remember there is One above all, to whom the secrets of all hearts are open, and before whose tribunal kings and judges will one day have to give an account of their works!"

De la Salle was observed to quail under the stern glance of De Massey, but, making an effort, he simply passed the sentence of the law upon the prisoner without further observation. The sentence was to be carried into execution on the third day from the present one.

We will draw a veil over the sufferings of Collette, as well as of her parents, who accused themselves as being in a great measure the cause of their daughter's misery. The good prior assured Hugh that her love for him was far too sincere to allow her to doubt his innocence for a moment; that, as it was fated they were not to be wedded on earth, she had resolved to enter the convent of the White Penitents, in the small island of Lihou; and St. George had promised to use his influence with the prioress to receive her. He added, that, though she was not allowed, by orders of the Court and bailiff, to visit him, she had resolved to see and take her final leave of him on the fatal morning he was to die; and, finally, she conjured him to be of good courage, and put his trust in God and our Ladye.

The rock upon which Castle Cornet is built, which was formerly the jail of the island, as well as the place where the States, or Local Parliament, were accustomed to assemble, and where all the important business was conducted, is accessible from the mainland of Guernsey at low water; but, when the tide is up, it is entirely surrounded by the sea, and only to be approached by a boat. It was formerly the custom-and, indeed, till within these very few years to remove any prisoner, left for execution, from the dungeons of the castle to the mainland, the night previous to the morning fixed for his doom on earth, lest any impediment should arise

the following day from the effect of sudden storms, (for it is a wild and breaker-beaten coast,) which might prevent the removal of the captive, and thus prove the cause of some embarrassment to the Court. In accordance with this custom, Hugh was removed, the night preceding his intended execution, to a place called La Plaiderie, which was a small building in the town of St. Peter Port, containing the office of the Greffier d'Etât, and a room where the ordinary Court assembled for the daily despatch of public business, together with some cells for the confinement of prisoners. Here, after a conference with the good prior de St. George, and an earnest prayer for mercy and support in his approaching hour of trial, he threw himself upon a heap of straw provided for his bed, and, conscious of his innocence, soon in balmy sleep forgot all his persecutions, and that yet but a few short hours, and he would “ sleep the sleep that knows no waking." Collette, as we observed, had been refused admission to her lover during his confinement in Castle Cornet, but had been informed that she might see him at an early hour on the morning of his execution. How slowly did the hours of that miserable night pass to the wretched girl! and yet, when the first dawn of morning broke upon her aching eyes-when she remembered it was the last sun her beloved De Massey, her affianced husband, would ever behold-she chid them for having too quickly sped, and brought to light the day which was to separate them for ever. And, as her eye wandered to the spot where she had last sat and talked with Hugh upon their approaching union, and when she called to mind all the plans they had formed, all the schemes they had proposed for their future guidance and now, with the certainty that this cup of happiness, which they had pictured to themselves might be theirs, was dashed from her lips for ever all these delightful visions of the future destroyed, and every hope in this world for ever blighted-oh! what a groan of agony burst from her almost breaking heart! Throwing herself on her bed, she lay for a time unconscious of her wretched fate. Remembering at length, however, that the hours of him she adored on earth were numbered, she shook off this weakness, and hastened to dress herself, and prepare for her departure from her home, to which she never intended to return; and for this purpose selected a robe of white, which, in happier days, was intended for her bridal dress. But this was to be her bridal day; for from it she meant to dedicate herself as the bride of heaven, the prioress of the convent at Lihou having consented to receive her.

Accompanied by her father and mother, who were also overwhelmed with grief, they took their sad route by way of the Vauquedor to the town, arriving at the Plaiderie some time before the hour for admitting strangers to the prisoner had struck. They were kindly permitted by the clerk to repose themselves in the Greffier's office.

Hugh de Massey had been the object of universal commiseration. No one would believe him guilty of the crime for which he was about to suffer, for all were well aware of the cause of Gautier's hatred to him; and the appearance of Collette, who was known to be his affianced bride, added to the feeling which seemed to pervade the crowd; and their indignation against the bailiff, and the majority of the Court by whom he had been condemned, and who were looked upon as the tools of their more subtle leader, soon manifested itself in curses both loud and deep. The arrival of Drouet le Marchant with the Sheriff's guard soon awed the tumult of the crowd; and, shortly after, the excellent Jean de St. George came to conduct Collette to her unhappy lover. What pen can describe their meeting? "This is indeed the bitterness of death," exclaimed De Massey, as Collette threw herself into his arms, her whole franie convulsed with the sobs which issued from her bursting heart. But why attempt to describe what is beyond description?-let us leave the sad pair with the good

father, and turn our looks to Gautier de la Salle. He had not left his house at La Petite Ville since the trial, but was now preparing, in accordance with his duty, to attend the execution of the prisoner, or, we should rather say, the sacrifice of his victim.

"And so none of you mean to go to Hogue à la Perse this morning?" he asked in a tone of surprise, from his servant, Peter Robin, who was waiting with his horse. No, Messire le Baillie," said the honest fellow, "I have no stomach to go and see my friend and your consin, Messire le Baillie, hanged for a crime I don't think him guilty of."

Then leave it alone," said his master, sulkily, riding out of the yard; "and mind, I expect to find the whole of that rick," pointing to one of two wheat-rieks which stood in the yard," removed into the barn by the evening you have been idle of late, my masters."

Shortly after the arrival of the bailiff at the Plaiderie, where the whole Court were assembled, orders were given to form the procession, to proceed to the place of execution at Hogue à la Perse, to which the prisoner was to walk barefooted. It was the law, however, that, previous to their setting forth upon this melancholy expedition, the prisoner should be placed at the bar, and the crime and sentence read to him by the Greffer d'Etât; and for this purpose an officer came to conduct Hugh to the room where the Court were assembled. "And now, beloved Collette! all I hold dear on earth-one last embrace, and then--"

"Oh, no! I leave you not here, Hugh; I will be calm, father, quite calm; but it is my duty not to leave 1 him till the last." And she clung to him with such force, that she could not be removed without violence, which the heart of the officer would not allow him to employ; and Hugh entered the room, with the unhappy Collette hanging on him, her white dress, and face paier than monumental marble, giving her more the appear ance of a walking statue than a living being; indeed her whole soul was so completely engrossed with her lover, that she scarcely appeared conscious of the presence she

was in.

"Why is this woman permitted here?" said the bailiff; remove her." She heard the order, and essayed to speak; but only the words "duty !' “my husband, sir!” were intelligible.

"Allow her to remain, Messire le Baillie," said Walter de Blondell; "I will be surety for her conduct; and let us proceed quickly, for this is too painful a business for any of us to endure much longer.'

It was afterwards remarked that, at this stage of the proceedings, the eyes and countenance of the miserable Collette exhibited a most unwonted expression of rage and fierceness, resembling the ferocity of the tigress when expecting to be deprived of her offspring. At the slightest movement of the officers who stood behind Hugh, she darted a savage glance at them, as if she defied their power, at the same time clinging closer to her lover with one arm, whilst with the other she appeared to menace any one who would dare to separate her from him; the dreadful situation in which she was placed seemed to have overwhelmed her reason. Amongst that assembled audience there was but one heart that did not bleed for the wretched pair, or anticipate with horror the scene which must in a few minutes ensue, as it was evident nothing but force could separate the unhappy girl from the side of De Massey. In the mean time, the Greffier d'Etats proceeded, with a faltering voice, and tearful eye, to read over the crime of which the prisoner had been convicted, as well as the seutence about to be carried into execution; but Hugh's whole attention was fixed upon Collette, who clung to him in an agony of despair, and he heeded not these forms.

The bailiff, upon the Greffier's concluding with the usual "God save the King," made an intimation to the Court that now all the forms of the law had been complied with, and was on the point of rising from his seat,

Poetry.

In Original Poetry, the Name, real or assumed, of the Author, is printed in Small Capitals under the title; in Selections, it is printed in Italics at the end.]

THE DEATH OF BRUCE.1

THERE is darkness in the chamber,
There is silence by the hearth,
For pale, and cold, and dying,

Lies a great one of the earth;
That eye's dim ray is faint and grey,
Those lips have lost their red,
And powerless is a people's love
To lift that languid head.

A tearful group was gathered
Around that bed of death:
There stood undaunted Randolph,
Knight of the Perfect Wreath;
And Campbell, strong and stedfast
Through danger and despair;

And valiant Grey, and stern La Haye,
And loyal Lennox there;

There, last in name, but first in fame,
And faithful to the end,

All weeping stood Lord James the Good,
True knight and constant friend;
And there, with eyes of grave surprise,
Fast rooted to the place,

The monarch's son, scarce four years old,
Gazed in his father's face!

But the stillness of that solemn room
Was stirred by scarce a breath-
Silent were all, and silently

THE BRUCE encountered Death.

Where God's dear Son for sinners died

Alas, it must not be!

But if thy love be stedfast
As it was proved of yore,--
When these few struggling pulses

Are stilled, and all is o'er,
Unclose this lifeless bosom,

Take thence this heart of mine, And bear it safely for my sake

To holy Palestine:

Well pleased my heart shall tarry
In thy fair company;

For it was wont, while yet in life,
Ever to dwell with thee."

The dying king was silent;

And down the Douglas kneeled-
A kiss upon his sovereign's hand
His ready promise sealed;
Never a word he answered,

In sorrow strong and deep,
But he wept, that iron soldier,

Tears such as women weep.

The Bruce hath prest him to his breast

With faint but eager grasp,

And the strong man's arm was tremulous As that weak dying clasp!

That last embrace unloosing,

The monarch feebly cried,
"Oh, lift me up, my comrades dear,
And let me look on Clyde!"
Widely they flung the casement,
And there in beauty lay
That broad and rolling river

All sparkling to the day.
The Bruce beheld its waters

With fixed and wistful eye,
Where calm regret was blending
With bright expectancy;
And then, with sudden effort,
Somewhat his arms he raised,

As one that would have fain embraced
The things on which he gazed.
And then on those who held him

There fell a strange deep thrill-
For the lifted arms dropped heavily,
The mighty heart was still!

Hushed was the voice of weeping--
Mutely did Douglas close

The eyes of the illustrious dead

For their last, long repose;

And backwards from the couch they drew

Softly and reverently;

For solemn is the face of death,

Though full of hope it be!

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(1) From Lays and Ballads of English History. By S. M. (2) See Illustration, p. 369.

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