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Fig. 2.

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b

ferior quality of the feed. The urine of the cattle is the manure which chiefly keeps up the fertility of grass land; and although in hot and dry weather it frequently burns up the grass where it falls, when it is diluted by showers the improved appearance of the surface shows that its effect has not been

Fig. 2 is the section of catch-work. a, a, are the feeders; b, the drain; detrimental. To enrich poor meadows there is no manure so c, e, e, c, intermediate channels which act as feeders and drains.

Fig. 3.

Ridge-work.

b

L.r

effective as diluted urine, or the drainings of stables and dunghills.

When pastures are poor, and the herbage is of a bad quality, the cause is in the soil. A poor arid soil is not fitted for grass, nor one which is too wet from the abundance of springs and the want of outlet for the water. These defects can only

Fig. 3 is the section of two adjoining ridges. a, a, the feeders; b, b, b, the be remedied by expensive improvements. A soil which is

drains.

Fig. 4.

Fig. 4 is a sluice to regulate the flow of water.

It is evident that all the feeders are nearly horizontal, to allow the water to flow over their sides.

Upland Pastures are portions of land on which the natural grasses grow spontaneously. The plants which form the natural sward are not confined to the family of the gramineæ, but many other plants, chiefly with perennial roots, form part of the herbage. In the richest soils the variety is exceedingly great. When a sod is taken up, and all the plants on it are examined, the species will be found very numerous, and in the same ground the plants will vary in different years, so as to induce one to conclude, that, like most other herbaceous plants, the grasses degenerate when they have grown for a long time on the same spot, and that a kind of rotation is established by nature. It is chiefly in those pastures where the grasses are allowed to grow till they form their seed that this is observable; for when they are closely fed, and not allowed to shoot out a seed-stem, they are less subject to degenerate and disappear. This may be a reason why experienced dairymen are so unwilling to allow their best pastures to be mown for hay. Close feeding is always considered the most advantageous both to the cattle and the proprietor.

The only way in which a pasture can be profitable is by feeding stock; and its value is in the exact proportion to the number of sheep or cattle which can be fed upon it in a season. Extensive pastures are often measured only by their capacity in this respect. Thus we speak of downs for 1000 sheep; and in Switzerland and other mountainous countries, they talk of a mountain of 40, 60, or 100 cows, without any mention of extent in acres.

When a pasture is naturally rich, the only care required is to stock it judiciously, to move the cattle frequently from one spot to another (for which purpose inclosures well fenced are highly advantageous), and to eradicate certain plants which are useless or noxious, such as docks and thistles, furze, broom, briars, and thorns. The dung of the cattle also, when left in heaps as it is dropped, kills the grass, and introduces coarse and less palatable plants. This must be carefully beat about and spread, or carried together in heaps to make composts with earth, to manure the poorer meadows or the arable land. All that is required in rich pastures in which cows and oxen are fed, and which are properly stocked, is to prevent the increase of the coarser and less nutritive plants. Weeding is as important in grass as in arable land; and if it is neglected the consequence will soon be observed by the in

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too dry may be improved by cultivation and judicious manuring; but for this purpose it must be broken up and treated for some time as arable land: and it may be a question whether or not the expense of improving the soil will be repaid by the superior quality of the pasture when it is again laid down to grass. In general the poor light soils, if they are worth cultivation, answer better as arable land, especially where the turnip husbandry is well understood. The low wet clay soils may be converted into good pastures by draining them well; and judicious draining in such soils is the most profitable investment of capital.

When old meadows have been neglected, or too often mown, without being recruited by manure or irrigation, they are often overrun with moss or rushes, and produce only a coarse sour grass. In that case, besides draining it if required, the land must be broken up, and undergo a regular course of tillage, until the whole of the old sward is destroyed, and a better collection of grasses covers the surface. If this be done judiciously, the pasture will not only be greatly improved in the quality, but also in the quantity of the grass. There is a prejudice against the breaking up of old grass land, which has arisen from the improper manner in which it is frequently effected. The sward when rotten is a powerful manure, and produces great crops of corn; and this tempts the farmer to repeat the sowing of corn on newly broken up lands. The fertility is reduced rapidly; and when grass seeds are sown after several crops of corn, the soil has been deprived of a great portion of the humus and vegetable matter which is essential to the growth of rich grass. The proper method of treating grass land, broken up to improve it, is to take no more corn crops than will pay the expense of breaking up, carting earth, lime, or other substances upon it, to improve the soil, and to lay it down to grass again.

If the soil is fit for turnips, no better crop can be sown to prepare for the grass seeds, which should be sown without a corn crop, except where the sun is powerful, and the seed is sown late in spring: but autumn is by far the best season for sowing grass seeds for permanent pasture. Turnips of an early kind may be sown in May, and fed off with sheep in August or September; and the ground being only very slightly ploughed, or rather scarified, and harrowed fine, the seeds may be sown and rolled in. The species of grasses sown must depend on the nature of the soil; but it is impossible to be too choice in the selection. That mixture of chaff and the half-ripe seeds of weeds, commonly called hay seeds, which is collected from the stable lofts, should be carefully rejected, and none but seeds ripened and collected on purpose should be sown. The Trifolium repens (white clover), the Trifolium medium (cowgrass), Medicago lupinula (trefoil), Lolium perenne (ryegrass), the poas and festucas, are the best kinds of grasses. A very easy way of obtaining good seed is to keep a piece of good meadow shut up from the cattle early in spring, carefully weeding out any coarse grasses, and letting the best arrive at full maturity; then mow and dry the crop, and thresh it out upon a cloth. This will give the best mixture of seeds; but some of the earliest will have been shed, and these should be collected separately, or purchased from the seedsBefore winter the ground will already be covered with a fine green, if the seed has been plentiful. The quantity per

men.

acre of the mixed seeds should not be less than 30 or 40 pounds to insure a close pile the next year. If the soil is not naturally rich, liquid manure, or urine diluted with water, should be carried to the field in a water-cart, and the young grass watered with it. This will so invigorate the plants that they will strike and tiller abundantly. They should be fed off by sheep, but not too close. The tread of the sheep and their urine will tend to make the pile of grass close; and the year after this the new pasture will only be distinguished from the old by its verdure and freshness.

In some soils which are not congenial to grass, the seed does not take so well as in others; and there is a great difficulty in producing a good sward. In this case recourse may be had to planting, or, as some call it, inoculating grass. This is done by taking pieces of sward from an old meadow, and spreading them over the surface of the land to be laid down, after it has been ploughed and prepared in the same manner as it would be to receive the seed. The turf of the old meadow is taken up with a peculiar instrument in strips two inches wide, and these strips are cut across so as to form little square pieces, which are spread over the ground, leaving about five or six inches of interval between every two pieces. The heavy roller presses them into the ground. These tufts soon spread and fill up all the intervals with a complete old sward. This is a very effectual method of producing a permanent pasture.

The fertility produced by grass which is fed by cattle and sheep has given rise to the practice of converting arable land to pasture for a certain time in order to recruit its strength. The old notion was that the land had rest, which, by a confusion of ideas, was associated with the rest of the labourers and the horses. Ploughing was called working the land; and some men talked of working out the heart of the land by ploughing. In our moist climate there is seldom any danger of over-ploughing. The land, by being in grass, has much vegetable matter added to it from the fibres of the roots which die and decay, as well as from the other parts of the grass, which draw nourishment from the atmosphere, and impart it to the roots. Thus in time an accumulation of humus is formed; and when the land is ploughed, the rotting of the sward greatly increases it. Every species of plant thrives well in this improved soil.

It is well known that land which has been some years in grass is improved in fertility. The convertible system of husbandry takes advantage of this fact; and all its art consists in reproducing a good pasture without loss of time, after having reaped the benefit of the fertility imparted to the land during three or four years when it was in grass. Good pasture is very profitable; so are good crops: by making the one subservient to the other, the farmer who adopts the convertible system is enabled to pay higher rents, and still have a better profit than those who adhere to a simple rotation of annual crops.

In laying down a field to grass for a very few years, the mode of proceeding is somewhat different from that which is recommended for producing a permanent pasture. Clover in this case is always a principal plant, both the red and the white; these with annual or perennial rye-grass are sown with a crop of corn in spring, and begin to show themselves before harvest. The grasses are often mown the first year after they are sown, on account of the abundance and value of the red clover; but the best farmers recommend the depasturing them with sheep, to strengthen the roots and increase the bulk. Various circumstances, such as a greater demand for clover hay, or for fat cattle, may make mowing or feeding most profitable; but when there is not a decided advantage in making hay, feeding should always be preferred. At all events the great object of the farmer should be to have his land in good heart and tilth, and free from weeds when the grass is sown. If his grass is good, he is certain of good crops after it with little trouble or manure.

The seeds usually sown on an acre, when the land is laid

down to grass, are as follows:-Red clover 12 lb., white 6 lb., trefoil 4 lb., rib-grass 2 lb., and 2 pecks of Pacey's rye-grass. Sometimes cock foot-grass (Dactylis glomerata) and cow-grass (Trifolium medium) are added. This is for a field intended to remain four or five years in grass.

The introduction of artificial meadows, in districts where the soil seemed not well adapted for pasture, has greatly increased the number of cattle and sheep reared and fattened, and has caused greater attention to be paid to the means of improving the breeds of both.

In the neighbourhood of large towns there are many meadows, which, without being irrigated, are mown every year, and only fed between hay harvest and the next spring. These require frequent manuring to keep them in heart, and with this assistance they produce great crops of hay every year. The management of this grass land is well understood in Middlesex. Sometimes the meadows are manured with stable dung which has been laid in a heap for some time, and been turned over to rot it equally. This is put on soon after the hay is cut, and the rains of July wash the dung into the ground: but if a very dry and hot summer follows, little benefit is produced by the dung, which is dried up, and most of the juices evaporated. A better method is to make a compost with earth and dung, and, where it can be easily obtained, with chalk, or the old mortar of buildings pulled down. The best earth is that which contains most vegetable matter; and as many of these meadows are on a stiff clay soil, which requires to be kept dry by open drains and water furrows, the soil dug out of these and carted to a corner of the meadow makes an excellent foundation for the compost. It is sometimes useful to plough furrows at intervals to take off the superfluous surface-water in winter; the earth thus raised by the plough is excellent to mix in the compost: having been turned over with dung, sweepings of streets, or any other manure, so as to form a uniform mass, it is spread over the land in winter; and in spring a bush-harrow is drawn over the meadow, and it is rolled with a heavy roller. All this compost is soon washed into the ground, and invigorates the roots of the grass. It is better to put on a slight coating of this compost every year than to give a greater portion of manure every three or four years, as is the practice of some farmers. When grass land is let to a tenant, it requires some attention, and particular conditions in the lease, to prevent the meadows being deteriorated by continual mowing without sufficient manuring. It is very common to insist on a cart-load of stable dung being bought for every load of hay which is made and not consumed on the premises. Sometimes the tenant is bound to feed the land in alternate years; but if horses or heavy cattle should be taken in, especially in spring and autumn, they may do more harm by their treading, when the ground is soft, than would have been done by taking off a crop of hay. When the proprietor of meadows resides near them, he often finds it most profitable to keep them in hand, and sell the crop when it is fit to be mown. In that case he must be careful to manure them sufficiently, or his profits will soon diminish rapidly. The grazing of cattle has generally been a more profitable occupation than simply tilling the land. The capital required is considerable, but the current expenses are not great. The grazier is not subject to such total failures as the farmer of arable land is in his crops. With a little experience and prudence, he can always reckon on a certain return. An acre of good grazing land, worth 40s. rent, is supposed to produce 200 lb. of meat in the year. If this is worth 6d. a-pound, the gross produce is 51. per acre. The expenses will not exceed 10s. per acre, so that here is a net profit of 21. 10s. per acre with little or no risk; few arable farms will average this net profit. By uniting the raising of corn and the grazing of cattle and sheep, the greatest profit is probably obtained, and this is the great argument in favour of the convertible system of husbandry.

THE OLD ENGLISH BALLADS.

BY ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

$ 1.-HISTORICAL BALLADS.

"That piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night."

"-SHAKSPERE.

To Bishop Percy in the south, and Sir Walter Scott in the north, we owe the recovery, as well as restoration, of some of our finest historical ballads; strains alike welcome to the rude and the polished, and not dear alone, as Warton avers, to savage virtue, and tolerated only before civil policy had humanized our ancestors. They won the admiration of the chivalrous Sidney, and the praise of the classic Addison; they moved the gentlest hearts and the strongest minds, and, though rough and often unmelodious, shared the public love with the polished compositions of our noblest poets. Their influence is still felt throughout our land, but more especially among the hills and glens and old towers of the northern border. Let us attempt to conduct the reader over the green hills, through the haunted glens, among the clear streams and ruined towers which are famous in ballad verse, giving life at the same time to our own remarks by quoting choice snatches of the finest of our historical strains.

:

CHEVY CHACE.

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Had two minstrels resolved to conceive and produce imaginative legends of sea and land, they could have brought forth nothing more romantic in narrative, or more poetic in circumstance, than Chevy Chace,' and Sir Andrew Barton.' They are history and truth: but history excited, elevated, and inspired; truth all life, spirit, and heroism. They record contests of a national character which fell out when these kingdoms were not, as now, united; and they celebrate the deeds of the fiery Douglases, the heroic Percies, and the chivalrous Howards they are perfect examples of our best ballad spirit, and of that manly feeling which generally distinguished the warfare waged of old by the English and Scotch. Blood was not shed from a tiger-like love of spilling it: vengeance had no part in their strife; even the bards, who shared in the fray and recorded it, raise no cry of exultation or of triumph. "The English on the one side," says Froissart, who lived when Chevy Chace was fought, and had conversed with the different warriors," and the Scots on the other, are good men of war; for when they meet there is a hard fight without sparing, as long as spears, swords, axes, or daggers will endure. And when they are well beaten, and the one party hath obtained the victory, they then glorify so in their deeds of arms, and are so joyful, that such as are taken they will admit to ransom ere they stir from the field; so that shortly each of them is so content with other, that at their departing they will courteously say, 'God thank you.'"

The battle of Chevy Chace had its origin in the rivalry of the Percies and Douglases for honour and arms: their castles and lands lay on the Border; their pennons oft met on the Marches; their war-cries were raised either in hostility or defiance when the Border riders assembled; and though the chiefs of those haughty names had encountered on fields of battle, this seemed to stimulate rather than satisfy their desire of glory in the spirit of those chivalrous times Percy made a vow that he would enter Scotland, take his pleasure in the Border woods for three summer-days, and slay at his will the deer on the domains of his rival. "Tell him," said Douglas,

No. 19.

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when the vaunt was reported, " tell him he will find one day
more than enough." Into Scotland, with 1500 chosen archers
and greyhounds for the chace, Percy marched accordingly, at
the time "when yeomen win their hay;" the dogs ran, the
arrows flew, and great was the slaughter (among the bucks of
the Border. As Percy stood and gazed on a
hundred dead
fallow-deer" and "harts of grice," and tasted wine and
venison hastily cooked under the greenwood tree, he said to
his men,
"Douglas vowed he would meet me here; but
since he is not come, and we have fulfilled our promise, let us
be gone." With that one of his squires exclaimed-

"Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come,
His men in armour bright;

Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
All marching in our sight;

All men of pleasant Tiviot-dale,
Fast by the river Tweed.

O cease your sport, Earl Percy said,
And take your bows with speed."

It was indeed high time to quit the chace of the deer and feel that their bowstrings were unchafed and serviceable, for stern work was at hand. The coming of the Scots is announced with a proper minstrel flourish :

"Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed,
Most like a baron bold,
Rode foremost of his company,
Whose armour shone like gold.
Show me, said he, whose men you be,
That hunt so boldly here;

That without my consent do chase

And kill my fallow-deer."

To this haughty demand the first man that made answer was Percy himself: he replied, "We choose not to say whose men we are; but we will risk our best blood to slay these fallow-deer." "By St. Bride, then, one of us shall die!" exclaimed Douglas in anger. "I know thee; thou art an earl as well as myself, and a Percy too: so set thy men aside, for they have done me no offence; draw thy sword, and let us settle this feud ourselves." And he sprang to the ground as he spoke. "Be he accursed," replied Percy, "who says nay to this;" and he drew his sword also.

"Then stepp'd a gallant squire forth,
Witherington was his name;
Who said, I would not have it told
To Henry our king for shame,
That e'er my captain fought on foot,
And I stood looking on.
You are two earls, said Witherington,
And I a squire alone:

I'll do the best that do I may,

While I have power to stand:
While I have power to wield my sword,
I'll fight with heart and hand."

This resolution met with the instant support of the English bowmen. The Scottish writers allege that it was acceptable to the chiefs on the southron side, who could not but feel that

[KNICHT'S STORE OF KNOWLEDGE.]

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their Percy was no match for the terrible Douglas. Be that as it may, the interposition of Witherington was seconded by a flight of arrows:

"Our English archers bent their bows,

Their hearts were good and true :
At the first flight of arrows sent

Full fourscore Scots they slew."

This sudden discharge and severe execution did not dismay Douglas: "his men of pleasant Tiviot-dale" levelled their spears and rushed on the English archers, who, throwing aside their bows, engaged in close contest with sword and axe.

"The battle closed on every side,

No slackness there was found,
And many a gallant gentleman
Lay gasping on the ground.

O, but it was a grief to see,

And likewise for to hear

The cries of men lying in their gore,

And scatter'd here and there."

In the midst of the strife the two leaders met, and that single combat ensued which Witherington had laboured to prevent they were both clad in complete mail, and the en

counter was fierce :

"They fought until they both did sweat,
With swords of temper'd steel;
Until the blood, like drops of rain,
They trickling down did feel."

"Yield thee, Percy," exclaimed Douglas, who seems to have thought that he had the best of it: "Yield thee. I shall freely pay thy ransom, and thy advancement shall be high with our Scottish king." This was resented by the highsouled Englishman :

"No, Douglas, quoth Earl Percy then,

Thy proffer I do scorn:

I would not yield to any Scot
That ever yet was born."

During this brief parley the contest among their followers raged far and wide; nor had the peril of Percy been unobserved by one who had the power to avert it: as he uttered the heroic sentiment recorded in the last verse, an end-a not uncommon one in those days-was put to the combat between the two earls:

"With that there came an arrow keen

Out of an English bow,

Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart
A deep and deadly blow."

"Fight on, my merry men," exclaimed the expiring hero. Percy was deeply moved: he took the dead man by the hand, and said, "Earl Douglas, I would give all my lands to save thee a more redoubted knight never perished by such a chance." The fall of Douglas was seen from a distant part of the strife by a gallant knight of Scotland, who vowed instant vengeance :

:

"Sir Hugh Montgomery was he call'd,

Who with a spear most bright,
And mounted on a gallant steed,
Rode fiercely through the fight.

He pass'd the English archers all,
Without or dread or fear,
And through Earl Percy's fair bodie
He thrust his hateful spear.

With such a vehement force and might
He did his body gore,

The spear ran through the other side
A long cloth-yard and more."

The career of the Scot and the fall of the Englishman were observed and avenged. The Scottish spear, the national weapon of the north, was employed against Percy; the cloth-yard shaft, the national weapon of the south, was directed against Montgomery :

"Thus did those two bold nobles die,

Whose courage none could stain.
An English archer soon perceived
His noble lord was slain :
He had a bow bent in his hand,
Made of a trusty tree;

An arrow of a cloth-yard length
Unto the head drew he.

Against Sir Hugh Montgomery there
So right his shaft he set;

The gray-goose wing that was thereon
In his heart's blood was wet."

With the fall of their chiefs and leaders the contest did not conclude the battle began at break of day: Douglas and Percy are supposed to have fallen in the afternoon; but squires and grooms carried on the contention till the sun was set; and even when the evening bell rung it was scarcely over. "Of twenty hundred Scottish spears," says the English version of the ballad, "scarce fifty-five did flee." "Of fifteen hundred Scottish spears," says the northern edition, "went home but fifty-three." So both nations claim the victory; but in an older copy the minstrel leaves it undecided; though Froissart, in the account which he drew from knights of both lands, says the Scotch were the conquerors. On both sides the flower of the border chivalry was engaged. The warlike names of Lovel, Heron, Widdrington, Liddel, Ratcliffe, and Egerton, were sufferers on the side of the Percies; while with Douglas fell Montgomery, Scott, Swinton, Johnstone, Maxwell, and Stewart of Dalswinton. The pennon and spear of Percy were carried with Montgomery's body to the castle of Eglinton; and it is said that, when a late duke of Northumberland requested their restoration, the earl of Eglinton replied, “There is as good lea-land here as on Chevy Chace-let Percy come and take them."

We shall not attempt to vindicate our admiration of this ballad by quoting the praise of Sidney, the criticism of Addison, or the commendation of Scott: there are, we believe, few memories without a portion of it: we have heard it quoted by the dull as well as by the bright; by the learned as well as by the illiterate; nay, we ouce heard an accomplished lady sing it to the harp while the greatest genius of our isle since the days of Milton witnessed its beauty by his tears. Nor was it the heroism and chivalry of the ballad which called forth such testimony: it contains bits of tenderness which our painters as well as our poets have felt :

"Next day did many widows come,
Their husbands to bewail;

They wash'd their wounds in brinish tears,
But all would not prevail.

Their bodies, bathed in purple gore,

They bore with them away;

And kiss'd them dead a thousand times
Ere they were clad in clay."

SIR ANDREW BARTON.

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Let us turn from the heroic contest on land to the no less heroic strife at sea between England and Scotland: we shall find in the ballad of Sir Andrew Barton' actions as chivalrous, a devotion as unswerving, and poetic sentiment as bright and lofty, as are exhibited in the song of Chevy Chace.' The battle which this ballad celebrates was fought in the year 1511, between a gallant Scottish mariner, Sir Andrew Barton, and Sir Thomas Howard and Sir Edward his brother, sons to the earl of Surrey, afterwards duke of Norfolk. Barton, it appears, having suffered both insult and loss from the Portuguese, fitted out two ships of war, by permission of James IV. of Scotland, to make reprisals, and such was his success that he enriched himself and became the terror of the seas. Under pretence of searching for Portuguese merchandise, he stopped and, it is added, pillaged, some of the ships of England. This so exasperated Surrey, that he declared at the English councilboard that the narrow seas should not be so infested while he

had an estate to furnish a ship, and a son to command one. King Henry took Surrey at his word: two ships were fitted out at the earl's expense, and sent to sea under the command of his sons, with orders to intercept and capture Barton, which they were not the less willing to undertake, knowing that his ships were richly laden. The engagement which ensued was bloody and obstinate, and of long duration; but the fortune of the Howards prevailed: Barton fell fighting valiantly; his ships were carried into the Thames: the wealth obtained was large, and Sir Edward Howard was soon afterwards created Admiral of England. This act, committed in the time of peace, exasperated the Scots: Henry, to pacify them, liberated the crews, and offered to allow the aggrieved parties to prosecute their claims of restitution in the English courts of law.

The ballad begins by saying that one day, as King Henry rode out on the side of the Thames to take the air, no less than fourscore of the merchants of London came and knelt before him. "Welcome, welcome, rich merchants all," said the 'king, pleased with their humility. "By the rood, sire," exclaimed the whole fourscore, "we are not rich merchants; how indeed can we be so, since a cruel rover, a proud Scot, attacks us, as we sail, and robs us of our merchandise?" The king frowned on lord and merchant, and swore by the true cross that he thought no one dared to do his land such wrong: then, fixing his eye on Howard, he added, "Have I never a lord in my realm who will fetch that proud Scot into my presence?" "I will attempt it, at least, my liege," replied Howard. "Thou!" said Henry; "no, no; thou art "If very young, and yon Scot is an experienced mariner.” I fail to conquer him," replied Howard, "I will never again appear before you." "Go, then," answered Henry, "and choose two of my best ships, and man them with my ablest mariners." Howard, though young, selected ships and seamen with the skill of a veteran :

"The first man that Lord Howard chose

Was the ablest gunner in all the realm, Though he was threescore years and ten; Good Peter Simon was his name. Peter, says he, I must to the sea,

To bring home a traitor live or dead; Before all gunners I have chosen thee, Of a hundred gunners to be the head.

If you, my lord, have chosen me,

Of a hundred gunners to take the head; Then hang me up on yon mainmast-tree

If I miss my mark one shilling bread. My lord then chose a bowman rare,

Whose active hands had gained fame; In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, And William Horseley was his name."

66

This Yorkshire archer had skill equal to that of the veteran gunner; so with plenty of guns and pikes and good yew-bows, and able crews and seaworthy ships, Howard set sail on this adventure. He was but short way gone when he met Henry Hunt, a merchant of Newcastle, who, with "a heavy heart and a careful mind," was on his voyage homeward. "Hast thou seen Andrew Barton," inquired Howard, or canst thou tell me aught of him?" Ah, but too well can I speak of that cruel Scotch rover," replied Henry Hunt; "he met me but yesterday, and robbed me of all I possessed; and now I go to lay my complaint at the throne of King Henry." "Thon shalt not need, man," said Howard; "return and show me Andrew Barton, and for every shilling lost I shall give thee three." 66 Ah, ye little know whom ye seek," answered Henry

Hunt:

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"He is brass within and steel without,

With beams on his top-castle strong, And eighteen pieces of ordinance He carries on each side along.

And he hath a pinnace dight;

St. Andrew's cross that is his guideHis pinnace beareth ninescore men, And fifteen cannons on each side.

Were ye twenty ships and he but one,
I swear, by kirk and bower and hall,
He would overcome them every one,
If once his beams they do downfal.
This is cold comfort, said my lord,

To welcome a stranger thus to the sea; But I'll bring him and his ships to shore, Or to Scotland he shall carry me."

"I'll go with you, and that willingly," said the stout man of Newcastle; "but you must have a gunner skilful enough to sink his pinnace-you must not allow him to send a man aloft to lower his boarding-beams-and you must permit me to set you a glass in which his ship will be reflected, be it day or night." "All this shall be as you wish," said Howard, and continued on his course.

"The merchant set my lord a glass,

So well apparent in his sight;

And on the morrow by nine o'clock

He show'd him Sir Andrew Barton, knight.
His hatch-board it was gilt with gold,
So clearly dight it dazzled the ee;
Now by my faith, Lord Howard says,
This is a gallant sight to see."

"and

"Take in your pennons," said Howard to his men, put up a peeled willow-wand, and let us look like merchants on a voyage of profit." As they did this they passed Barton's ship without notice or salute: the Scot was incensed. "Now, by the rood," he exclaimed, "I have ruled the sea these full three years and more, and never saw churles so scant of courtesy before. Go," he said to the captain of his pinnace, "fetch yond pedlers back; I swear they shall be all hanged at my mainmast." Now was the counsel of Henry Hunt of use to Lord Howard: the first broadside from the pinnace having struck down his foremast and killed fourteen of his men, he called Simon his gunner and threatened to hang him if he failed to sink the pinnace :

"Simon was old, but his heart it was bold,
His ordinance he laid right low;
He put in a chain full nine yards long,
With other great shot, less or mo.
And he let go his great gun-shot;
So well he settled it with his ee,
The first sight that Sir Andrew saw

Was his pinnace sinking in the sea."

When 'Sir Andrew saw this, he cried, "I will fetch yond pedlers back myself." "Now spread your pennons and beat your drums," exclaimed Lord Howard," and let the Scot know who we are." "Fight on, my gallant men," said Sir Andrew, not at all alarmed; "this is the high admiral of England come to seek me on the sea." As he said this he was assailed on both sides; threescore of his men fell by one shot from old Simon, and fourscore fell by another from Henry Hunt. "Ah!" cried he, "that last deadly shot came from the merchant who was my prisoner but yesterday. Now, Gordon, thou wert ever good and true; three hundred marks are thine to go aloft and let my beams fall." Gordon went aloft in a moment, but as "he swerved the mainmast-tree" an arrow from Horseley pierced his brain, and he fell lifeless on the deck; Hamilton, the sister's son of Sir Andrew, went next aloft, but as he began to sway the beams another shaft from the same dread archer sent him the same way as Gordon. A sad man was Sir Andrew when he saw this. Go, fetch me my armour of proof," he exclaimed; "I will go myself and lower the beams." He clothed himself in his armour of proof, and brave and noble, says the minstrel, he looked, and went aloft dauntlessly. "Now, Horseley," said Lord Howard, "I will make thee a knight if thy shot is good; but if bad, I will hang thee." "Your honour shall judge," whispered the "but I have only two arrows left." archer; "Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree, With right good will he swarved then ; Right on his breast did Horseley hit, But the arrow bounded back again.

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