or two, and throw down his gory scourge, for some lingering sentiment of humanity, which even the Dutch discipline of King William had not extinguished, made him respect when dead the man whom he had dishonored when alive.

"The young Frenchman was dead!

"An exclamation of disgust and indignation that escaped me woke up the Baron, who after drinking deeply from a great pewter flask of skiedam that hung at his saddlebow, muttered schelms several times, rubbed his eyes, and then bellowed through his trumpet to bind up the other prisoner. Human endurance could stand this no more, and though I deemed the offer vain, I proposed to give a hundred English guineas as a ransom.

"Ach Gott!' said the greedy Hollander immediately becoming interested; bot vere you get zo mosh guilder.'

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Oh, readily, Mynheer Baron,' I replied, drawing forth my pocket-book, I have here bills on his Grace the Duke of Marlborough's paymaster and on the Bank of Amsterdam for much more than that.'

"Bot I cannot led off de brisoner for zo little-hunder pounds-dat ver small-zay two.'

"Proceed, Monsieur,' said the Frenchman, as the narrator paused; for I am well aware that your story ends not there.'

"It does not-you seem interested; but I have little more to relate, save that I dismounted and assisted the poor Frenchman to raise the body from the snow, and to tie it across the saddle of my horse; taking the bridle in one hand, I supported him with the other, and thus we proceeded to the nearest town."

"To Armentieres on the Lys,' exclaimed the Frenchman, seizing the hands of the Major as the latter paused again; to Armentieres, ten miles west of Lisle, and there you left them, after adding to your generosity by bestowing sufficient to inter his brother in the Protestant church of that town, and to convey himself to his native France. Oh! Monsieur, I am that Frenchman, and here, from my heart, from my soul, I thank you,' and half kneeling, the stranger kissed the hand of the Major.

"You!" exclaimed the latter; "by Jove I am right glad to see you. Here at Crail, too; in the East Neuk o' Fife 'tis a strange chance; and what in heaven's name seek ye here? 'Tis a perilous time for a foreigner"If one is not enough, Mynheer Baron, I still more a Frenchman, to tread on Scottish will refer to the decision of his grace the cap-ground. The war, the intrigues with St. Gertain-general.' mains, the Popish plots, and the devil only knows what more, make travelling here more than a little dangerous.”

"Ach, der tuyvel! vill you?' said the Dutchman, with a savage gleam in his little eyes, which showed that he quite understood my hint; vell, me vont quarrel vid you, gib me de bills and de schelm is yours.'

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'Monsieur, I know all that; the days are changed since the Scot was at home in France, and the Frenchman at home in Scotland, for Resolving, nevertheless, to lay the whole so the old laws of Stuart and Bourbon made affair before Marlborough, the moment I them. A few words will tell who I am and reached our trenches at Aire, I gave a bill what I seek here. Excuse my reluctance to for the required sum, and approaching the reveal myself before, for now you have a other Frenchman, requested him to keep be- claim upon me. Oh! believe me, I knew side me; but he seemed too much confused not that I addressed the generous chevalier by grief, and cold, and horror to comprehend who, in that hour of despair, redeemed my what I said. Poor fellow! his whole soul life (and more than life), my honor, from the and sympathies seemed absorbed in the man- scourge, and enabled me to lay the head of gled corpse of his brother, which was now my poor brother with reverence in the grave. unbound from the halbert, and lay half sunk | You have heard of M. Henri Lemercier ?" among the new fallen snow. While he stoop"What! the great swordsman and fencer ed over it, and hastily, but tenderly, proceed--that noble master of the science of self-deed to draw the half-frozen clothing upon the fence, with the fame of whose skill and valor stiffened form, the orders of Van Wanden- all Europe is ringing?" berg were heard hoarsely through his speaking-trumpet, as they rang over the desolate plain, and his troopers wheeled back from a circle into line-from line into open column of troops, and thereafter the torches were extinguished and the march begun. Slowly and solemnly the dragoons glided away into the darkness, each with a pyramid of snow rising from the steeple crown, and ample brims of

his broad beaver hat.

"It was now alınost midnight; the red moon had waned, the snow storm was increasing, and there were I and the young Frenchman, with his brother's corpse, left together on the wide plain, without a place to shelter us."

"I am he of whom Monsieur is pleased to speak so highly."

"Your hand again, sir; sounds, but I dearly love this gallant science myself, and have even won me a little name as a handler of the rapier. There is but one man whom Europe calls your equal, Monsieur Lemercier."

"My superior, you mean, for I have many equals," replied the Frenchman, very modestly. "You doubtless mean-”

"Sir William Hope, of Hopetoun.''

"Ah! Mon Dieu, yes, he has, indeed, a great name in Europe as a fencer and master of arms, either with double or single falchion, case of falchions, backsword and dagger, pistol or quarter staff; and it is the fame of his

be, I will ride to Balcomie with your message."

"A million of thanks-you will choose time and place for me."

"Say, to-morrow, at sunrise; be thou at the Standing-stone of Sauchope; 'tis a tall, rough block, in the fields near the Castle of Balcomie, and doubt not but Sir William will meet you there."

Thanks, thanks," again said the Frenchman, pressing the hand of the Major, who, apparently delighted at the prospect of witnessing such an encounter between the two most renowned swordsmen in Europe, drank off his stoup of wine, muffled himself in his rocquelaure, and with his little cocked hat stuck jauntily on one side of the Ramillie wig, left the apartment, and demanded his horse and the reckoning.

"Then your honor will be fule hardy, and tempt Providence," said the landlord."

"Nay, gudeman, but you cannot tempt me to stay just now. I ride only through the town to Balcomie, and will return anon. The Hopetoun family are there, I believe?"

"How, the old flame of the great Louis?" "Oui," said Lemercier, smiling; "and many say that Athalie bears a somewhat suspicious resemblance to her aunt's royal lover; but that is no business of mine; she loves me very dearly, and is very good and amiable. Diable! I am well content to take her and her thirty thousand louis-d'or without making any troublesome inquiries. It would Yes; but saving my Lady at the preachseem that my dear little Athalie is immense-ings, we see little o' them; for Sir William ly vain of my reputation as a master of fence, and having heard that this Scottish Chevalier is esteemed the first man of the sword in Britain, and further, that report asserts he slew her brother in the line of battle at Blenheim, fighting bravely for a standard, she declared that ere her hand was mine, I must measure swords with this Sir William, and dip this, her handkerchief, in his blood, in token of his defeat, and of my conquest."

"A very pretty idea of Mademoiselle Athalie, and I doubt not Hopetoun will be overwhelmed by the obligation when he hears of it," said the Major of Orkney's, whose face brightened with a broad laugh; and so much would I love to see two such brisk fellows as thou and he yoked together, at cut-and-thrust, that if permitted, I will rejoice in bearing the message of M. Lemercier to Sir William, whose Castle of Balcomie is close by here."

"Having no friend with me, I accept your offer with a thousand thanks," said Lemercier. "Sir William did, indeed, slay an officer, as you have said, in that charge at Blenheim, where the regiment of the Marquis de Livry was cut to pieces by Orkney's Scots' Greys; but to be so good and amiable, and to love you so much withal, Mademoiselle Athalie inust be a brisk dame to urge her favored Chevalier on a venture so desperate; for, mark ine, Monsieur Lemercier," said the Major, impressively, "none can know better than I, the skill-the long and carefully studied skill of Sir William Hopetoun, and permit me to warn you-"

"It matters not-I must fight him; love, honor, and rivalry, too, if you will have it so, all spur me on, and no time must be lost."

"Enough; I should have been in my stirrups an hour ago; and dark though the night

has bidden at Edinburgh, or elsewhere, since his English gold coft the auld tower from the Balcomies of that ilk, the year before the weary union, devil mend it!"

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Amen, say I; and what callest thou English gold?"

"The doolfu' compensation, o' whilk men say he had his share."

"Man, thou liest, and they who say so lie! for to the last moment his voice was raised against that traitorous measure of Queensbury and Stair, and now every energy of his soul is bent to its undoing!" replied the Major, fiercely, as he put spurs to his horse and rode rapidly down the dark, and then grassy, street, at the end of which the clank of his horse's hoofs died away, as he diverged upon the open ground that lay northward of the town, and by which he had to approach the tower of Balcomie.

The Frenchman remained long buried in thought, and as he sipped his wine, gazed dreamily on the changing embers that glowed on the hearth, and cast a warm light on the blue delft lining of the fireplace. The reminiscences of the war in Flanders had called up many a sad and many a bitter recollection.

"I would rather," thought he, "that the man I am about to encounter to-morrow was not a Scot, for the kindness of to-night, and of that terrible night in the snow-clad plain of Arras, inspire me with a warm love for all the people of this land. But my promise must be redeemed, my adventure achieved, or thou, my dear, my rash Athalie, art lost to me!" and he paused to gaze with earnestness upon a jewel that glittered on his hand. It was a hair ring, bound with gold, and a little shield bearing initials, clasped the small brown tress that was so ingeniously woven round it.

of France, where fencing was an accomplish- | kirk, where a marble tablet long marked the ment known to all, and there was no man in place of his repose. Britain equal to Sir William Hope, whose Complete Fencing Master was long famous among the lovers of the noble science of defence.

Sir William did more; he carefully transmitted the ring of Lemercier to the bereaved Athalie, but before its arrival in Paris, she had dried her tears for the poor Chevalier, They rode round each other in circles. and wedded one of his numerous rivals. Thus, Warily and sternly they began to watch she forgot him sooner than his conqueror, each other's eyes, till they flashed in unison who reached a good old age, and died at his with their blades; their hearts beat quicker Castle of Balcomie, with his last breath regretas their passions became excited and their ri-ing the combat at the Standing-stone of Sauvalry roused; and their nerves became strung chope. as the hope of conquest was whetted. The wish of merely being wounded ended in a desire to wound; and the desire to wound in a

clamorous anxiety to vanquish and destroy

Save the incessant clash of the notched ra

piers, as each deadly thrust was adroitly parried and furiously repeated, the straining of stirrup-leathers, as each fencer swayed to and fro in his saddle, their suppressed breathing, and the champing of iron bits, Lemercier and his foe saw nothing but the gleam and heard nothing but the clash of each other's glittering swords.

The sun came up in his glory from the shining ocean; the mavis soared above them in the blue sky; the early flowers of spring were unfolding their dewy cups to the growing warmth, but still man fought with man,

and the hatred in their hearts waxed fierce and strong.

In many places their richly laced coats were cut and torn. One lost his hat and had received a severe scar on the forehead, and the other had one on his bridle hand. They often paused breathlessly, and in weariness lowered the points of their weapons to glare upon each other with a ferocity that could have no end but death-until at the sixth encounter, when Lemercier became exhausted, and failing to parry with sufficient force a fierce and furious thrust, was run through the breast so near the heart, that he fell from his horse, gasping and weltering in blood.

Sir William Hope flung away his rapier and sprang to his assistance, but the unfortunate Frenchman could only draw from his finger the ring of Athalie, and with her name on his lips expired-being actually choked in his own blood.

"had

Such was the account of this combat given by the horrified Master Spiggot, who suspecting "that there was something wrong,' followed his guest to the scene of the encounter, the memory of which is still preserved in the noble house of Hopetoun, and the legends of the burghers of Crail.

So died Lemercier.

Of what Sir William said or thought on the occasion, we have no record. In the good old times he would have eased his conscience by the endowment of an altar, or foundation of a yearly mass; but in the year 1708 such things had long been a dead letter in the East Neuk; and so in lieu thereof he interred him honorably in the aisle of the ancient

From the London Times.

HENRY FIELDING.*

Wars put forward in a popular form, and at a price exceedingly low. A man may be very much injured by perusing maudlin sentimental tales, but cannot be hurt, though he may be shocked every now and then, by reading works of sound sterling humor, like the greater part of these, full of benevolence, practical wisdom, and generous sympathy

E glad to see this great humorist's

with mankind.

The work is prefaced by an able biography of Fielding, in which the writer does justice to the great satirist's memory, and rescues it from the attacks which rivals, poetasters, and fine gentlemen have made upon it.

Those who have a mind to forgive a little coarseness, for the sake of one of the honestest, manliest, kindest companions in the world, cannot, as we fancy, find a better than Fielding, or get so much true wit and shrewdness from any other writer of our language.

"With regard to personal appearance," says his biographer, "Fielding was strongly built, robust, and in height rather exceeding six feet. He was possessed of rare conversational powers and wit; a nobleman who had known Pope, Swift, and the wits of that famous clique, declared that Harry Fielding surpassed them all.

He and Hogarth between them have given us a strange notion of the society of those days. Walpole's letters, for all their cold elegance, are not a whit more moral than those rude coarse pictures of the former artists. Lord Chesterfield's model of a man is more polite, but not so honest as Tom Jones, or as poor Will Booth, with his "chairman's shoulders, and calves like a porter."

Let us, then, not accuse Fielding of iminorality, but simply admit that his age was more free-spoken than ours, and accuse it of the fault (such as it is) rather than him. But there is a great deal of good, on the other hand, which is. to be found in the writings of this great man, of virtue so wise and prac tical, that the man of the world cannot read it and imitate it too much. He gives a strong real picture of human life, and the virtues

*The Works of Henry Fielding, in two volumes, octavo. With a Life, Portrait, and Autograph. London: Henry G. Bohn, Covent Garden. [New-York: Stringer & Townsend. 1851.]

which he exhibits shine out by their con- at this time inherited a small one from his trasts with the vices which he paints so faith-mother. He carried her to the country, and fully, as they never could have done if the like a wise, prudent Henry Fielding as he latter had not been depicted as well as the was, who, having lived upon nothing very former. He tries to give you, as far as he jovially for some years, thought £5,000 or knows it, the whole truth about human na- £6,000 an endless wealth; he kept horses ture; the good and the evil of his charac- and hounds, flung his doors open, and lived ters are both practical. Tom Jones's sins and with the best of his country. When he had his faults are described with a curious accu- spent his little fortune, and saw that there racy, but then follows the repentance which was nothing for it but to work, he came to comes out of his very sins, and that surely is London, applied himself fiercely to the law, moral and touching. Booth goes astray (we seized upon his pen again, never lost heart do verily believe that many persons even in for a moment, and, be sure, loved his poor these days are not altogether pure), but how Amelia as tenderly as ever he had done. It good his remorse is! Are persons who pro- is a pity that he did not live on his income, fess to take the likeness of human nature to that is certain: it is a pity that he had not make an accurate portrait? This is such a been born a lord, or a thrifty stock broker at hard question, that, think what we will, we the very least; but we should not have had shall not venture to say what we think. Per-"Joseph Andrews" if this had been the case, haps it is better to do as Hannibal's painter did, and draw only that side of the face which has not the blind eye. Fielding attacked it in full. Let the reader, according to his taste, select the artist who shall give a likeness of him or only half a likeness.

and indeed it is probable that Amelia liked him quite as well after his ruin as she would have done had he been as rich as Rothschild.

The biographers agree that he would have been very successful at the bar, but for certain circumstances. These ugly circumstances always fall in the way of men of Fielding's genius: for though he amassed a considerable quantity of law, was reputed to be a good speaker, and had a great wit, and a know

We have looked through many of the pieces of Mr. Roscoe's handsome volume. The dramatic works could not have been spared possibly, but the reader will have no great pleasure, as we fancy, in looking at them more than once. They are not remark-ledge of human nature which might serve able for wit even, though they have plenty him in excellent stead, it is to be remarked of spirits a great deal too much perhaps. that those without a certain degree of paBut he was an honest-hearted fellow, with tience and conduct will not insure a man's affections as tender and simple as ever dwelt triumph at the bar, and so Fielding never rose in the bosom of any man; and if, in the hey- to be a Lord Chancellor or even a judge. day of his spirits and the prodigal outpouring His days of trouble had now begun in earnof his jovial good humor, he could give a hand est, and indeed he met them like a mån. He to many "a lad and lass" whom the squeam-wrote incessantly for the periodical works of ish world would turn its back on (indeed, the day, issued pamphlets, made translations, there was a virtue in his benevolence, but we published journals and criticisms, turned his dare not express our sympathies now for poor hand, in a word, to any work that offered, Doll Tearsheet and honest Mistress Quickly) and lived as best he might. This indiscrimi-if he led a sad riotous life, and mixed with nate literary labor, which obliges a man to many a bad woman in his time, his heart was scatter his intellects upon so many trifles, and pure, and he knew a good one when he found to provide weekly varieties as sets-off against her. He married, and (though Sir Walter the inevitable weekly butcher's bills, has been Scott speaks rather slightingly of the novel in the ruin of many a man of talent since Fieldwhich Fielding has painted his first wife) the ing's time, and it was lucky for the world and picture of Amelia, in the story of that name, for him that at a time of life when his powers is (in the writer's humble opinion) the most were at the highest he procured a place which beautiful and delicious description of a cha-kept him beyond the reach of weekly want, racter that is to be found in any writer, not excepting Shakspeare. It is a wonder how old Richardson, girded at as he had been by the reckless satirist-how Richardson, the author of "Pamela," could have been so blinded by anger and pique as not to have seen the merits of his rival's exquisite performance.

and enabled him to gather his great intellects together and produce the greatest satire and two of the most complete romances in our language.

Let us remark, as a strong proof of the natural honesty of the man, the exquisite art of these performances, the care with which the situations are elaborated, and the noble, Amelia was in her grave when poor Field- manly language corrected. When Harry Fielding drew this delightful portrait of her; but, ing was writing for the week's bread, we find with all his faults, and extravagancies, and style and sentiment both careless, and plots vagaries, it is not hard to see how such a gen-hastily worked off. How could he do othertle, generous, loving creature as Fielding was, wise? Mr. Snap, the bailiff, was waiting with must have been loved and prized by her. a writ without-his wife and little ones askShe had a little fortune of her own, and heling wistfully for bread within. Away, with