force I will get half-a-dozen fellows from the garrison. They will be too happy at the prospect of a row; and if Black Jim, or whatever he calls himself, gets, into the clutches of one or two of them, he may whistle for it; the scragging may be the other way." to the little warrior than she determined to make, sipped his claret, "if you want to go out in him her victim. However, as he declared, "she was'nt his form at all-went in for a larger woman when he was about it." So when Viola entangled him in the meshes of a long conversation, and admired to the echo his sporting adventures, Robson turned a deaf ear, and rested not till he had escaped from the dangerous quarter. So they were all very happy in their way-the people at Oaklands Hall-and not a soul there but when bed-time arrived could say, "I have lived to-day, have not been bored, and that's something." One night at dinner it was very evident that something had gone wrong with the squire. Usually his good-tempered face loomed at the head of the board through the smoke of the viands, like a genial ray of sunshine, and his hearty voice made the plates ring again as he paid court to the ladies or bantered the men. But to-night his face was overcast, and he spoke only in monosyllables, and then curtly. "What's gone wrong with the squire?" whispered the guests. Something about the game, I suppose." He was too much of a gentleman, though, to inflict his annoyance and disturbance on the people at his table; so it was evident that he made an effort to be as amusing as usual. But when the last of the ladies had been bowed out, and before Launcelot Batson had had time to recover from his wife's parting telegram, he broke the silence by bringing his glass down with a crash on the table. "What's the matter, sir? You seem to be rather down in the mouth to night," chorussed the men at the table as they settled down to serious drinking. 66 "What's the matter, indeed!" returned the angry squire. You may well say What's the matter? Just this. Those infernal poaching villains have stolen nearly all the pheasants from the south spinney, and not content with that, have taken all the young birds from the nurseries. Night after night, when we people are dreaming in our beds, those fellows are stealing the best of the game; and, what's worse, my fellows are afraid to tackle them. Black Jim makes no secret of his intention to scrag the first keeper he gets into his clutches. And my men are very much afraid of him, for he is as strong as the devil, and has enlisted nearly all the roughs in the neighbourhood into his service." "What's to be done?" said Croker Pitts. "I am not much of a fighting man myself, but I'll help any night you like." "Well said, man of peace," said the little Commissioner. "I suppose I'm too small, and there's my wife in the question. I do not think Mrs. Batson would hear of my going out, unless she went herself." "Stop their game I'm determined to," answered the stout old squire. "And I'll go myself if no one else will. I do not see why I am to go to the expense of rearing birds for these fellows to make their living out of," "Tell you what, squire," said Robson, as he | "Thanks very much, Robson," said the squire. "That's just what I want. They may have all the shooting they like, if they will only help against these fellows; though before we begin I may just as well warn you that it is no child's play with these poachers. I have been in poaching affrays myself, and seen men left on the ground with very little life in them." Grantley said very little; but there was an exultant gleam of the old "ardor belli" in his eye as he signified his readiness to assist. "That's all right, then," assented the squire more cheerfully. "I didn't mention it at dinner because it would have been a pity to alarm the ladies. Robson, you can send for your fellows as soon as you like, and I will look up all the bludgeons in the Hall. I daresay the keepers will find you enough and to spare. Bythe-bye, I may as well send for Belton, the head keeper, at once, whilst we are at the council of war. Robson, go and tell the ladies not to expect us for a time: we have business on hand. Now, gentlemen, light up and attend." Old Belton came at the summons, and seated himself on the extreme edge of his chair. "Take a glass of wine, Belton?" said his master. The man-an old campaigner, wiry, thin, and muscular-pulled at his forelock, then drank off the liquor at a draught. "Any more news of those fellows, Belton?" went on the squire. "At their usual game, I suppose?" "Why, your honour," said the keeper, "I hears from a pal of theirs, who peaches on 'em, as how they intend making a good thing of it the night after next. All their hands is going to assist, and Black Jim says as how he'll make a clean sweep of the south spinney." "D- -n Black Jim!" roared the angry squire. "Let me only get that fellow before me on the bench, and he shall see the other side the water for once in his life." "About one they are going to commence, your honour," went on the head keeper, calmly. 'And Jim, he is going to divide 'em into three parties all round the spinney." 66 "Hum! Now look here, Belton: something must be done, or I shan't have a bird. You say that the keepers are afraid to tackle them all alone?" 66 66 a pity. You think you can manage it, Benson?" body. They were each one of them ambitious Ay, capital," said the old man. And if for the honour. Grantley stepped forward. I do get hold of that Jim he'll have a tough job of it to get loose. I have got a long reckoning against him since he nearly murdered one of the watchers." "Of course we must try and master them without a fight at all; but if they get rusty, then we must give it them, that's all, and take care of broken heads. And we shall want as many good strong bludgeons as you can find, Belton, and a strong rope to fasten the captives with." "Well, gentlemen, I am right glad that you be'nt afraid of those customers. Blood will show, as I often tell my keepers. Only it was no use fighting six to one. Now we shall tackle 'em pretty fairly, as one may say." And the grisly old veteran bowed himself out and departed to tell the news in the servants' room. "Game old boy the squire," chorussed all the company. "And let me see Black Jim or any of those chaps so much as lay a finger on him, I'll settle him," growled the head keeper as he proceeded to select the bludgeons. At Robson's invitation half-a-dozen men came over from Turlminster the strongest being picked for the service,-quite delighted at the idea of a row, as light-hearted lads generally are. To be sure it was not very long since Robson himself had fought that immortal battle at Sandhurst with the butcher, when, though the little cadet was a head shorter than his opponent, he hit out with his right so quickly and gamely that the butcher was forced to leave off, covered with blood and thoroughly beaten. The Honourable Tom Sefton was getting quite rusty for want of practice he declared, and handled his bludgeon quite tenderly, with the pathetic remark: "There will be a warming for these cads if I get this gentleman into good play." Councils of war met at intervals in the saddle-room, for it was absolutely necessary to keep the affair secret from the ladies, and manoeuvres were discussed in a manner worthy of Napoleon himself. Here the soldiers were of course invaluable, and soon arranged a very neat and efficient attack, which if well managed must pay well. "You need not come, squire," said Robson. "You are getting old, and, besides, think of your wife and daughter." "I will come, sir!" thundered the squire. "Nothing shall persuade me to keep at home. A likely joke, indeed!” So they left off entreating him when they saw it was no use. By eleven on the eventful night they were all mustered in the hall, and a good stiff glass of brandy served out to all alike, to keep out the damp and give them good heart. The party under the keeper were all stalwart sinewy young fellows, armed with oak bludgeons, and on the whole decidedly ugly customers to tackle. "Now who is to take the rope?" said the squire. "I will! I will!" sang out the officers in a "Give it me, please," said he quietly. "I have had a little practice in these matters; and a revolver, please; that with the cane here will do capitally. Are you ready, gentlemen ? Then march." And they stole forth from the Hall in regular marching order in the direction of the south spinney, every man with his head firm and muscles braced, for they knew it was no child's play they were going to take share in this calm October night. When they had got about eight hundred yards from the scene of action, and could hear distinctly the shots in the cover, and the smothered voices of the poachers as they bagged the pheasants, Grantley called a halt in a low voice. "Belton, take half-a-dozen of your men and creep round on your hands and knees till you get within twenty yards. Then wait till you hear me. Mind don't stir for your life, nor make the slightest noise, or it is all up." "All right, sir," was the hoarse response. Down, my men, and quiet." 66 Now, Robson," went on Grantley, "do you think you can manage another lot? Don't say Yes if you think you can't." 66 Try me," was the quiet answer. Last "All right, then. You creep round at the back of the spinney, so as almost to join the keeper's lot. Quiet as mice now. Don't make the slightest noise. And when you hear me sing out, then give them the butt-end." of all he collected his whole body, by far the strongest and the best armed, for the leading attack. And thus arranged, the whole body crept forward with their bludgeons firmly gripped in their hands, and their heart scarcely daring to beat, till they were so close to the marauders that they could hear every word that was said, and could distinguish in the moonlight the figures flitting to and fro in the cover, rapidly knocking down the young birds, and filling the bags. And the squire ground a curse between his lips as he saw the form of Black Jim -a murderous looking ruffian— conspicuous among them all, like Ajax-he was a head taller than the rest. Silent as they had been on their march, one of the keepers, just as they neared the hedge, could not for the life of him resist a slight sneeze; and it was evident from the sudden halt and suspicion amongst the poachers that the noise had been overheard. "Now then," whispered Grantley hoarsely; 'mind your orders, men. Take the birds first, and then tackle the men.' 66 وو in the clear moonlight a compact body of men Suddenly, as if by magic, from the earth rose before the astonished eyes of the poachers. And Grantley, lifting himself on to the hedge, bellowed "It's no use making any opposition; you are all surrounded. So you had better take it quietly and give up yourselves and the birds." A rush was instantly made by Grantley's force upon the bags, and so quick was the movement, that ere the poachers could make the slightest opposition, the pheasants were all on the safe side of the hedge. "I say, men, are you going to stand this?" sang out the tall poacher, hoarsely. "Let's get them birds back." -a A hearty "Come and fetch them," was the answer; and at once the poachers rushed on to the hedge, and the fight became general,mass of struggling men, in which might occasionally be heard a smothered curse or faint groan as the blows told home, and a man went down disabled. Superiority of numbers, however, was on the side of the keepers, and though Black Jim's men had fought with the courage of despair, they soon began to waver, and showed signs of turning. "Now's your time, my men," yelled Grantley, by this time as madly excited as if he were chasing the sepoys. A slight wound in the forehead had only fired him the more. "Single out your man, and leave the leader to me." With a genuine hearty hurrah the keepers and officers rushed over the hedge, and threw themselves upon the flying poachers as well as they could, singling out individuals and binding them fast. Now it fell that little Robson, after having distinguished himself very much by attacking and securing a large poacher, and binding him with the aid of Belton, was mounting guard over the prisoner, giving him an occasional reminder to be quiet with his foot. 66 Easy, now, can't you, while I light a weed? What's the use of your kicking up this shindy? You can't get loose, you know." Thus soliloquising, he turned and saw a man rushing towards him, who he knew must be Black Jim. "Here's a nice go," was his mental comment. However, he wasn't going to run-not quite. He simply clutched his bludgeon tight, and waited the assailant's onset. A torrent of curses burst from the poacher as he saw the field clear, and the chance of wreaking his vengeance on the poor lad. And so eager was he that he paid no regard to the entreaties of the bound captive. “D—n you! my chance is come at last. Say your prayers, my swell; for I mean to murder you!" "The deuce you do!" said the little man. "How kind!" It was a short struggle. Though Robson inflicted some ugly cuts on the savage's head, he was soon overpowered. And as he felt the man's hand pressing on his throat, and his hot breath on his cheek, he did murmur a prayer for mercy. It was hard lines, he thought, to die thus like a dog. "Oh, if I only had my revolver!" was his heart-felt wish. Still the love of life is great, and he clung to the poacher like grim death, and listened attentively for footsteps. His breath was getting short, and he could feel the cruel fingers creeping into his flesh, while his brain danced as if on fire. It would soon be over. Well he had done his duty with the best of them. When suddenly, as if struck by a thunderbolt, the poacher fell to the earth, and Grantley stepped over him to the boy, who had fainted from sheer exhaustion. "By Jove, that was a near go for my young friend!" he thought. "I hope I have'nt killed this fellow, though his head must have been hard to take that fair blow. Gad! how it did come down." Black Jim lay perfectly motionless the while, blood streaming from the deep cut of Grantley's bludgeon; and the captain really thought he was dead. "Well, better him than this game little fellow. Halloa, you are coming to, are you? That's right; you had a near shave, young fellow." Robson opened his eyes and shuddered. "Ah, it was a shave. I shall never be able to thank you for saving my life. The last thing I saw before the dizziness came on was your arm whirling that bludgeon; and then it came down crunch. "Have a drop of this, old man," said Grantley, handing him the flask. "That will put you all right. You are a brave little brick, and I am glad I came up in time. What to do with this carrion I don't know." And he kicked the prostrate poacher slightly. "No movement; I suppose the man is done for. Wait a bit, though. Oh, he is breathing all right now. It was only a stun the fellow had." Black Jim opened his eyes and groaned. "Come, that's better than I expected. I shouldn't like to have killed the man, brute though he was. bind, fast find,' though; so I will just tie him up with the other gentlemen, and leave them here till the cart comes." 'Fast By this time victory had declared itself entirely for the side of the squire, and after a good deal of hard fighting the majority of the poachers bad either been secured or put to flight. With the fall of their leader they seemed to have lost heart, and allowed themselves to be tied up by the grim old Belton, who joked with them in a saturnine manner. When they were all assembled, the squire unbared his white head, and thanked them all, right heartily, for the assistance they had rendered him; and when Grantley had told the story of little Robson's gallantry and escape, they all crowded round him, patting him on the back and praising him. "Won't he get Kudos with the ladies, too? Ah, happy young man! I wish Black Jim had turned his attention to me." "You wouldn't have relished it, I lay odds," said Robson. "As for me, I don't want to be half as near death's door again. When Grantley gave him that tap on the head I was nearly a gone coon." The casualties were slight enough. Captain Cameron had his check laid open; Grantley a wound on the forehead; one of the keepers had sprained his ankle; and the poachers had been fairly put down. So you may imagine the homeward march was a very merry one indeed; and as it was about three in the morning when they got to the Hall, it was resolved that to bed they would not go that night, but hold a council meeting in the smoking-room instead. So in a very few minutes everything from which smoke that when I get Master Jim before me in the justice-room, I'll teach him to interfere with my pheasants. Why the deuce fellows like that can't stick to their trade I can't imagine." "No, nor I," spluttered the Commissioner, with his mouth full of game-pie. "I never feel happy myself unless I have got something to do" it being well known that the Commissioner was too lazy even to fetch his own slippers, and generally deputed some poor junior to perform that office for him. "Black Jim!" said Katie, thoughtfully, could be produced was in full play, and the liquor circulated freely, as each man chattered over the adventures of the night, everybody talking, all at once, as is the custom when men get their tongues loosened by drink. Croker Pitt, it seemed, had met a poacher in the corner of the spinney, and had fought a most desperate encounter, which promised fair to be the stock story at many a dinner-table for the current year. It was a tale long enough, in good sooth, to" outlast a night in Russia, when nights are longest there." And when his story was done, he volunteered to sing, ""Tis my delight"that must be Jim Meadows. I know a little on a shiny night in the season of the year;" and the meeting grew very uproarious and festive, insomuch that the ladies at the Hall waked in the middle of the night, and wondered whence came the sound of unhallowed revelry. They might have imagined that the stately old cavaliers and lovely dames from out their picture frames had descended, and were holding high festivity, and, you may be sure, were very anxious to know the reason of it all, next day. CHAP. XIX. AFTER THE FIGHT. of that man's family: he is a shoemaker by trade, but he never touches his tools; and, if he didn't shoot pheasants, his poor wife and children would starve. As it is, he ill-treats them shamefully; and I have often gone into his house and found the poor woman crying, after the fellow has been thrashing her; and she has declared to me that she and the children didn't know where to turn for a meal's meat!" "Gad, how shocking!" said the Commissioner, commencing another vigorous onslaught on the cold beef: "but why don't people of that kind go into the workhouse? They would be fed there, at all events." "Well, I don't think he'll feel inclined to beat anybody for some time," broke in Grantley. "I gave him one little tap with my stick, when I found him throttling Robson, that he won't forget in a hurry, I'm thinking!" "Come, tell me how it was, Harry," said Ella." Curiosity was very rife amongst the ladies at the breakfast-table next morning as to whatever the men had been up to last-night. Katie And the whole company entreated so forimmediately attacked the defenceless Robson, cibly, that Grantley was fain to detail the whole and made him unfold the tale of the expedition scene; while Robson, as the hero of the story, to the very best of his ability; and though he hung his head, and looked very modest. In the repeated with mock solemnity that he was middle of this story we must leave him, and sworn to secrecy, and that no amount of flat-betake ourselves to another part; and this-as tery or compulsion should make him divulge that seeret, he was as nothing in the hands of the sharpshooter. "It's well for you, Launcelot," said his better half to the little Commissioner, when she could attract his attention from the serious business of eating-"it's well for you that the gentlemen didn't tempt you to go on this expedition, whatever it was: I should never have forgiven you and you know what that means!"" "Yes," thought the small victim, "that would mean no rest, night or day, till my hair grew quite grey from anxiety !" "Horrid creatures, these men!" sighed Viola Sherlock," with a languishing glance at Robson. "They never will let us into their secrets." "Well, I suppose you are all dying to know; and as I am well aware that a woman never rests till she has got to the bottom of a thing like this, I'll tell you. We had to go out and meet a lot of poaching fellows in the wood-and a tough job we had of it, till the bravery of Mr. Robson here helped to secure the ring-leader, a gentleman called 'Black Jim'; then the others made good their retreat; and all I know is, very low characters are introduced-the reader is recommended to skip, if fastidious; "for well do I know," as Mrs. Gamp would say, that the recital of the sorrows and crime and misery of the poor do not excite so much, nor make such pleasant reading, as the pleasures and varieties of the idle rich. A tale which treats but of those too common things, poor people and their sufferings, the scene of which is laid in pestilential alleys, where fever and death reign supreme, is very apt to offend the nice sensibilities of those people who would much rather go through the world in blissful ignorance that such things are: so that, if reproached with selfishness and disregard of the suffering community, they can say, "My dear sir, I wasn't aware that such things could possibly exist. I have my comfortable routine of life to go through; I meet none but pleasant, well-bred people, clothed in broadcloth and fine linen, who ride in their carriages and live on the fat of the land. I am not supposed to know that hundreds of thousands are starving around me I am not supposed to hear the cries of those who wail for a morsel of bread all through the livelong day, to whom the heavens seem as brass, utterly deaf to the prayer of hunger; to whom the earth is as a howling wilderness, or a desert where no water is !" Very true, sir, or madam: it is not the thing, it is not fashionable to busy yourself with the cares and wants of the poor, unless such things can be done by the help of fancy bazaars, where you can spend a pleasant day or so, flirting and laughing, and selling articles for ten times their value to hapless and unwary bachelors, and all under the pure ensign of Charity. The Reverend Loftus Smyly was in one of his happiest humours this morning, which succeeded the poaching affray at Oaklands: genial was his smile, so pleasant his good word, now that the people blessed him as he walked amongst them. "We never had a parson who makes himself so affable-like to all of us!" was the universal comment, and with all did he incur the utmost favour, save with that devoted band whom I have touched on before. These had all the rancorous hatred of slighted women in their heart. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," might be said of them; and those who, erstwhile, when they hoped that the young Oxford-man was going to fall headlong into the snare laid for him, did their best and looked their fairest whenever they crossed his path; now did their best to scatter the seeds of calumny wherever they went. And many were the stories circulated over the festive teatable at Matilda Pott's, and at the house of the blighted baker's daughter! They had got full scent of the attraction that lay for the Curate in the direction of the Hall, and, when they saw how anxious little Katie was in her errands of mercy to the poor, would snigger, and say, Designing little minx! all very well to pretend and be attentive to the poor! We all know whom she comes to meet here: and if any body else but Mr. Smyly was curate, we should have all the district-visiting to do ourselves!" They hated the pretty little lady, with her delicate face and gentle manners, with all the unforgiving hatred of their race, and hardly mustered up sufficient courtesy to return the winning salutation which Katie always bestowed upon them in the course of district-visiting. "What a very glum lot of women you seem to have at your place!" softly would Katie say. "They all seem as if they had been crossed in love!" "Ah! well, perhaps they have, my dear; perhaps they have. 'I could a tale unfold' about these very religious and grim maidens, which would open your eyes a little; but I think I shall keep the secret to myself; I might be come boastful, else." The Curate had just performed the marriageservice this morning, and had left his blessing with the simple, blushing pair who had knelt before him, and, feeling rather fagged, was determined to take a walk into the country to get a good mouthful of fresh air, and feast his eyes on the beauty of the waning year. Before him lay, in all their beauty, the fair fields, from which the yellow corn had just been removed, and now were rugged and crossed with many a furrow, over which the tired sportsman carried his gun, and whistled to his dogs; while ever and anon a covey of partridges, with a loud whirr, shot into the air. The rain last-night had freshened delightfully the face of Nature, and everything seemed to wear quite a holiday aspect; and the dead leaves over which the Curate strode-those last mementoes of the year, which have not inaptly been called "the graves of ruined hopes"-the carpet of dead leaves glistened like diamonds; while, on the trees, there drooped the leaves not yet fallen, in all the gorgeous blazonry of deep purple and orange and brown, and some of a deep hectic flush, like the deceptive blush which reddens on the consumptive patient's cheek. And over all that solemn stillness which characterizes the fall of the leaf in England, which seems as though the dying couch where old Hertha lays out her seemly body to die, 'neath the coverlet of fair leaves, were watched in the solemn calm of grief by all Nature. Poets may rave of the beauty of the other seasons, and go into raptures over the modest maiden Spring-the fervid beauty Summer, with her sunburnt face and wheat-crowned head-and the hoary veteran Winter, with white beard fringed with icicles: give me the calm, still beauty of the middle-aged Autumn, fairest in decay. Now, the Curate was not one of those men who make a trade of their love of nature, and who burst out, whenever they are assured of an audience, into namby-pamby verses, culled from Doctor Watts who mouth and rant, and declare, "I cannot live without Nature, sir! She is my idol! I worship her every-changing form !" This kind of man is a sufficient nuisance; for, when you would be taking in the beauty of the scene in silent admiration, he is breaking the spell with some of his rhodomontade. The Curate saw and felt, and understood with a painter's eye, with a philosopher's mind; and, as he looked on the fair panorama, bis heart swelled in boundless gratitude; and he could have understood Byron's idea: "I always feel most religious on a sunshiny day." He quickened his pace, for did he not descry in the distance the fluttering of a well known ribbon, and the outlines of a little figure, every line of which was printed on his mind's-eye? Yes, he was right, "breeze, bird, and flower confessed the hour"; and here, too, faithful to the tryste, was County Guy." She made him a low mock curstey. "Good morrow to your reverence! And is it thus you attend to your duties, tramping about in the country all alone?" 66 "Not all alone, my precious one: I have you with me always!" "Yes, I daresay you have me with you oftener than you care about. But have you seen anything of the shooting-party? They must be hereabouts-Grantley and little Robson, and the rest of them; and dying for their lunch, I'll be bound. Come, you shall be invited if you are very good; and you shall see Captain Cameron, too! He is determined not |