CHAP. V. AN ACCOUNT OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF OLD ENGLAND.

“It must be at least a century since the necessities of the kingdom obliged me, for the first time, to attempt the trade of war,” said the Englishman. “There had been some dispute between the government and the people, which was originally of little consequence, but the zeal of furious partizans on each side gave it an importance which would not otherwise have belonged to it. One said the safety of the people depended on their success—another declared that the security of the crown was involved in the question. One party were frantic for liberty—another party, not so numerous, but far more influential, were enthusiastic for loyalty. But words were soon given up for more effective weapons. The Court, proud in their strength, prepared themselves for a sanguinary conflict; and their antagonists, having equal confidence in their numbers, followed their example with the same alacrity. The whole country was astir with contention: families were divided, and friends turned into foes. He who opposed the King was denounced as a rebel; and he who differed with the people was declared a traitor.

“Many disturbances had broken out before the parties took the field in military array; but now the quarrel assumed a more serious aspect. Every one armed himself, and hastened to join that cause which seemed to him the best; and the most influential men on each side led these masses to the battle. Though they were children of the same soil, and many had relatives in the opposite ranks, nothing could equal the animosity with which they engaged and the fury with which they fought. Never had they against a foreign foe exhibited such fierceness. The battle raged nearly the whole of the day with great slaughter on both sides. The men of loyalty were less in number, but they were more experienced in soldiership. The men of liberty had the most powerful army, but they were deficient in military discipline and in martial appearance. They fought with the most determined courage, resisting and making attacks, attacking and defending positions, till, after a protracted struggle, the latter succeeded in driving their opponents off the field.

“This was merely the commencement of hostilities. The crown party, though defeated, were very soon in a condition to renew the contest; and though this victory to the popular cause brought a great increase of strength, it did not save its partizans from being defeated with immense slaughter in the next battle that was fought. For several years a destructive civil war raged with unexampled ferocity in every part of the kingdom; sometimes one party being the strongest, sometimes the other. Every individual capable of bearing arms was obliged to join either the cause of the king or that of the people; and, as a great diversity of opinion existed, brothers were set against brothers, and fathers against sons, and thousands and tens of thousands of the bravest of her citizens daily were cast into pits to feed the worms of the soil of England. At last the popular cause triumphed, and the King became a fugitive. Loud were the congratulations of the victors when no doubt seemed to remain of their success; but they had little cause for their joy—they had only changed a bad ruler for a worse.

“The triumphant party now sought out such of their fellow-citizens who had most distinguished themselves by their hostility to their progress during the late warfare; and they who did not succeed in escaping were persecuted and exterminated in every way that vengeance could devise. Blood continued to flow, and hatred and strife still existed. The leading men among them had scarcely settled themselves in their authority, before they began to differ concerning their notions of government. Some were for one form and some for another, and each had his own theory to support or his own ambition to gratify. The difference soon increased to open hostility; and as each was supported by a numerous band of partizans, each strove for the mastery with all the cunning and boldness he possessed. Battles were again fought—victims were again sacrificed. Party succeeded party; and as one overpowered the other, the vanquished were sure to be massacred if they remained within the power of their conquerors.

“But the cause of the king was considered the cause of all kings; and while the different leaders of the people seemed intent only upon exterminating each other, a powerful armament was being fitted out in a neighbouring kingdom for the purpose of restoring the deposed monarch to his possessions. The first intimation that the ruling government had of this expedition was derived from its landing upon the coast; and the necessity of an immediate union between all parties against the common enemy became so evident, that they lost no time in settling their differences, joining their disposable forces, and making preparations to resist the approaches of their expelled sovereign. Numbers, who had suffered from the oppressions of the many, now hastened to the king’s standard. The loyal came from their hiding places, and those who had fled to the neighbouring continent hurried back again to share in the struggle. The battle-cry of one was, ‘God and the King’—that of the other, ‘God and the People;’ and, with increased animosity, the contending armies rushed to the conflict, till the whole country seemed flowing with blood.

“At first the king was successful in almost every encounter with his rebellious subjects. Battle after battle was fought, and still he kept advancing and triumphing on his way. But the leaders of the people did not despair. They carried on the contest with the same spirit notwithstanding their defeats. The whole population rose in arms. No sooner was one army dispersed than another was ready for action. Three times the court party took possession of the capital, and were again driven out. The contest was prolonged by the military genius of one man, whose mind seemed exhaustless in resources. He had risen from obscurity, and had gradually exalted himself from one command to another during the civil war, till the whole forces on the side of the people were at his disposal. Success appeared to attend all his efforts. As he in his own person exhibited the most determined bravery, his followers were stimulated to copy his example. The most daring attacks were planned and executed, and the royalists began to lose all the advantages they had previously gained. It was the intention of the popular general to terminate the contest at a blow; and with this object in view he concentrated all his forces, and unexpectedly brought them upon the enemy’s camp. The royalists were taken quite unprepared, and few escaped to announce their defeat. The king, the nobles, the foreign troops, and a great portion of their native allies perished in one indiscriminate slaughter; and thus the hopes of the loyal were utterly annihilated for the time.

“As every man was obliged to join one or the other party, I had my share in these struggles for mastery. I had inherited a small patrimony in one of the inland counties, and I had recently married a young and beautiful relative, to whom I had been attached from my youth, when I was first called upon to contribute my assistance towards bringing the contest to a termination. I was an ardent lover of liberty. I was a great advocate for republics, and I had long looked upon kings as expensive and useless machines, which the people could easily spare. It may easily be imagined, from my acknowledgement of these sentiments, that I eagerly embraced the popular cause. I mixed myself up as little as possible with the squabbles of partizans; but there were few more sincere adherents to the principles I professed than myself. I was present at nearly all the great engagements, received several wounds, and gradually acquired rank and experience in the republican army. My superior officers respected me, and the men under my command were attentive and obedient.

“After the destruction of the royalists, the people were so frantic in praise of their leader that he thought he might be allowed to assume the sovereign power. He did so, amid the acclamations of the multitude; and in six months after was assassinated. No sooner was his decease known than there rose the same intrigues for supremacy that his master mind had quelled. Party succeeded party, and government followed government, in rapid succession; and the gibbet and the axe were in constant requisition by whatever party happened to be in power. As if it was determined that this unhappy nation should enjoy no respite from its troubles, the son of the late king, assuming the royal dignity, had succeeded in inducing a foreign power to grant such assistance as might be required to reinstate him in the throne of his fathers. He landed on the English coast with a large army of foreigners, and advanced in a very imposing manner towards the ancient metropolis. The government had no force sufficient to dispute his progress, and fancying itself unable to struggle successfully against the army brought against it, it took the dangerous resolution of inviting to its assistance the monarch of a neighbouring and powerful kingdom. While this was being done the young king marched forward, meeting with very little opposition till he came within a few miles of the metropolitan city. There the leaders of the people had taken up a strong position, and although they were inferior to the royalists in number and soldiership, and had not yet received the expected succours from the foreign power, they determined to dispute the passage with the royalists. The battle was long and sanguinary. The people, favoured by their position, quietly awaited the attack of their opponents, and as they advanced, poured into their ranks a heavy and destructive fire; but although they fought in the most steady and heroic manner, the superiority of the enemy in numbers and discipline was too great to be counteracted by the most steady courage. The republicans were driven from their position, and defeated with great slaughter; after which the young monarch marched into the ancient city, of which he took possession. It was at first resolved to renew the fight in the streets of the metropolis; but dissension and ill-will arose in their councils, and nothing being resolved on, the popular army retreated from the city, leaving it open to the advance of the royalists.

“The young king, fancying that all opposition had ceased, or that the defeated party could not now offer him any molestation, passed his time in getting up the idle ceremonies of a coronation; but the leaders of the people were preparing to recommence the struggle. A powerful army from the monarch who had promised them assistance, had landed, and such good use did they make of their time, that the young king was obliged to leave the metropolis in the very midst of his coronation. Then again the horrors of civil war broke out with fresh fury. As each party was assisted by foreign allies, the war was never left to languish. Reinforcements were continually being poured into the kingdom, and the ranks of the opposing armies, thus strengthened, were led against each other, and fiercer and more relentless became the strife. Blood flowed like water, and flesh was cut down like grass. Villages were deserted—towns burnt—cities depopulated. Whether by design or accident is not known, but it was found out that in all engagements the inhabitants suffered infinitely more than their foreign auxiliaries. At every battle the fields were strewn with their dead, while the loss of their allies was but trifling.

“After the war had been protracted till there scarcely seemed materials left in the kingdom to continue it, the king’s party were completely annihilated, and the foreign troops that had assisted them were glad to make their escape out of the country. The allies which the leaders of the people had called to their assistance, had been gradually augmented until they had become an exceedingly numerous and powerful body, and when the war was over, it was the anxious desire of the people to get rid of them as soon as possible. But their friends were not so easily to be disposed of. On different pretexts they protracted their stay till they had obtained possession of nearly all the strong places in the empire, and then they not only refused to depart, but commenced a war of extermination on the people they came to protect. For this treachery the inhabitants were but ill prepared. The greater portion of the English army had been disbanded, and the rest were insignificant in comparison with the new enemy against which they were called to act. The consequence was, that for a considerable time the foreign army passed from one part of the island to the other, burning and destroying whatever they met with, without meeting any resistance.

“A force was hastily organised for the purpose of driving these treacherous friends out of the country. The old and young of all parties and opinions rushed to the national standard with the hope of freeing their native land from foreign rule. A battle ensued. Nothing could exceed the desperate bravery of my countrymen; but the discipline of their enemy was not to be resisted. The people were slaughtered in multitudes, and I, who commanded one of the wings of the army on that occasion, was the only general officer who retreated from the field with anything like a respectable body of men. We were attacked as we retreated by a force greatly our superior; but I continued to show a resolute front, beat off the assailants, and maintained a successful fight. I succeeded in placing my men within the shelter of impregnable walls.

“The people had by this time become sick of war. Thirty years of continued bloodshed had done destructive work all over the country. The population had been greatly reduced; agriculture had been neglected; commerce was rapidly decaying; manufactures had been destroyed; all the resources of industry had been annihilated; poverty, misery, and ruin existed throughout the land. The people sued for peace. The enemy sent back a message:—it was, ‘England must be destroyed;’ and still they continued their relentless work of pillage, burning, and slaughter. But the spirit of the nation was not utterly broken. They still waged a defensive and offensive war whenever there was an opportunity of doing so with advantage. Every small party of the enemy were cut off, stragglers killed wherever met with, and their army harassed in every way that hatred and ingenuity could devise. Bands of well-armed Englishmen, from fifty to a thousand in number, under separate and independent leaders, surprised positions, destroyed convoys, and cut off supplies. A new plan of warfare was now attempted, which, although destructive to the country, was found a most effective means of expelling the invaders. This was, wherever the enemy approached, to burn the dwellings, and to move or destroy every kind of provision.

“About this period, there appeared amongst the crowd of wretched beings who congregated the cities, a new and malignant epidemic. How it first originated was a mystery. It came, and none knew from what cause. Its fatal character was soon proved. At first, the people died in tens and twenties, then they perished by hundreds, and then thousands fell victims to its malignity. The rich fled from their town houses into the country, carrying with them the very infection from which they were flying, and in a short time it penetrated into the most remote corner of the kingdom. Where the population had not been extensive, there were not left enough to bury the dead. In some rural districts they died, and none knew of their decease. It attacked all constitutions with the same violence: the old, the young, the strong and the weak, were its continual victims. The rich were as much subject to its ravages as the poor. There was no condition or class of society in which the disease did not enter and carry off the majority of its members.

“The system which had been pursued, chiefly under my direction, against the enemy, gave them considerable annoyance; but still the inhabitants generally would have done anything to have purchased the blessings of peace. Again was the boon sued for, and the reply was, ‘You haughty islanders have continued too long to lord it over the world. We have been your victims many a time; but now you shall be ours—England must be destroyed.’ They might have triumphed over our hostility; they might, by keeping up a communication with their ships, continue to have supplies of provision and forage independent of the country; but they saw that they could not escape the plague: and, after effecting all the mischief they could produce, they hastened to their vessels, and sailed from the pestilential shores they had come to conquer.

“I had not mingled in the sufferings of my country without having to endure my own share. I had found my home burnt to the ground, and my wife sacrificed in the flames. Three of my sons had died fighting by my side. But worse suffering was now in store for me: the plague was amongst us. I had used every precaution to prevent the infection spreading among my relatives. I had retired to a dwelling up a steep mountain in the west, and there I resided with my children and their families. There were four of my sons, strong, robust men, well inured to all the dangers of war; and there were their wives, all of healthy constitutions, and their children, of different ages, every one full of health and spirits. With these were my two daughters, with their husbands and families, none of whom were touched by the slightest illness. One morning I was congratulating them upon the beneficial effect of my regulations to prevent the spread of the infection, and the mothers looked at their children and the husbands on their wives, and I gazed on all, with a delight we found to be unspeakable. In less than a week I had buried them all but one.”

Here the old man’s voice sunk, and he appeared to be powerfully agitated. No one attempted an observation; and after making a strong effort to recover his self-possession, he continued.

“The survivor was a boy of ten years of age; he was one of the few whom the plague had touched and spared. Me it had passed by harmless. But the destruction caused by the pestilence exceeded all calculation. As in my case, whole families were carried off, and districts entirely depopulated. The pits that were dug to throw in the dead were quickly filled, and none were strong enough to dig others. The dead cart stood in the street with its load piled up; for both the driver and the horse had been destroyed by the pestilence. Physicians and surgeons appeared to have been the earliest of its victims. They came to visit their patients, and they died by the bedside. All remedies were tried without avail; all precautions were used, but they were equally useless. There were different opinions existing as to its origin. The royalists said that it was a punishment for the sins of the republicans; and the republicans retorted by proclaiming that it was a judgment on the profligacy of the royalists. Religious fanatics went running about the deserted streets, with streaming hair and blood-shot eyes, shouting out, in piercing tones, ‘Wo! wo! the day of judgment is at hand!’”

This lasted for the better portion of a year; and, after putting the boy in a place of safety, when the pestilence was over, as I journeyed through the country to notice the effects it had produced, where I had once known crowded thoroughfares, I passed along without meeting a single inhabitant. The country appeared to have been completely unpeopled; and in the city, the few persons I met with only made the immense mortality which had existed appear more great. I inquired for the government, and found that not a trace of it was in existence. I asked for the army, and I was shown about a couple of hundred men. I called a meeting of the citizens in the metropolis, and they all came; and they filled a moderate sized room. I explained to them the deplorable state into which the plague had reduced the country, and I asked their counsel and assistance to form some sort of government to manage its affairs. There was a melancholy silence for some minutes. None attempted to speak. Their hearts seemed too full for utterance. At last one of the citizens ventured to wish that I would do what I thought best for the community; and I did do what I thought best. I travelled through every part of this once populous island to notice with my own eyes the exact state of the remaining population. Some cities I found deserted; in others two-thirds of their buildings were untenanted; the rank grass was growing in the public streets, and the gardens of the rich were filled with nettles.

“But the measure of afflictions for this unhappy country had not yet been filled up. No sooner had the pestilence abated, than another enemy, scarcely less dreadful, made its appearance. The continued ravages of war had prevented the tilling of the fields. No one would attempt to sow, knowing how insecure would be his ownership of the crop he might produce. There had been no grain, and no fruits, and no vegetables; and the cattle had died of the plague, or had been destroyed by the enemy. It was in vain attempting to get a supply from foreign countries. Our commerce had been destroyed, for no nation would hold communication with a people among whom raged so destructive a pestilence. They avoided the shores of England as if death was on its soil; and any vessel attempting to communicate with them, or to enter one of their ports, was fired at and sunk. The consequence was, our ships lay rotting in the docks, and their crews were either dead, or had dispersed over the island, and were not to be found. The terrific visitation of famine was now upon us. Every thing was eaten that the human stomach could be brought to swallow. Things the most loathsome to the taste, and offensive to the eyes, were readily and ravenously devoured. Then the cheek sunk; the eye-ball fell; the flesh dwindled away; and all crawled with half lifeless limbs in search of any substance that might lessen the cravings of their appetites. But at last every thing that was digestible disappeared, and the skeleton forms of the sufferers were stretched stiffly on the place where they fell—some in madness, some in despair, and all in agony and dread.

“There was no opportunity allowed me for legislating with any advantage. I thought of every plan that afforded the slightest assistance towards lessening the dreadful effects of the calamity which the whole country was enduring; but I met with no one to second my exertions. The few who retained the use of their faculties were feeble and emaciated. Famine was in their gaunt limbs, and despair upon their aching hearts. No one appeared inclined to pay the slightest attention to any thing but his own sufferings. There was no authority but that of the strong, and they who retained their physical power the longest, robbed the dying of such slight nourishment as they had acquired. The rich would bring out their treasures and offer them for a meal, and when some avaricious wretch was found to make the exchange, one more strong than either would come by, and wrest the food from the impoverished, and the wealth from the miser; and both died within the hour. The breast of the mother became dry, and the infant was abandoned to starve when it became an incumbrance to the famished parent. Cats, dogs, rats, mice, and every kind of animal, no matter how disgusting in its habits, had been greedily devoured; birds, fish, and insects, that had previously been considered loathsome, were sought after as delicacies; and weeds, roots, the leaves of trees, offal, and even many things still more objectionable, became the daily food of many who had been accustomed to the most luxurious fare.

“Finding that I could do no good among the scanty band of skeletons that clung to a lingering existence, I determined on endeavouring to make my way to the northern part of the island, where an industrious and hardy race had managed to retain their independence and prosperity during the wars, the pestilence, and the famine, that ravaged its southern portion. My grandson was too young to walk great distances; so, when he was tired, I placed him upon my shoulder, and thus we journeyed on our way. Our food was acorns, berries, roots, and leaves. Sometimes I was enabled to catch a fish, or a bird, or a small animal; but these were luxuries seldom to be enjoyed. We passed several parties apparently intent upon the same object as ourselves; but many were there of the groups who laid themselves down on the road-side weary and famishing, and there perished. Continually I came upon some individual made desperate by his hunger, scratching up the earth with his hands in search of the worms it contained, which, if found, were eaten with as much enjoyment as the most delicious meats, and if the search was fruitless, the dry soil was crammed into the mouth as a substitute. Very few of the travellers could have reached the end of their journey, for we continued to pass the dying and the dead as far as we proceeded. Sometimes a solitary wretch would be found prostrate at the foot of a tree, the bark of which he had evidently been gnawing; further on a family of children were discovered, with their little bodies shrunk to the bone, and the parents at a short distance, with their faces turned from them, as if they could not look upon their sufferings; and in another place, a lover and his mistress lay clasped in each other’s fleshless arms.

“We were crossing an extensive and barren moor, when we came before a group of dead bodies, among which, to my exceeding astonishment, I beheld a child—a delicate girl of five or six years of age—busily occupied in chasing a butterfly. The scene was so extraordinary that I stood gazing on it for a considerable period before I could determine what to do. The insect’s gaudy wings kept fluttering over the lifeless forms that were cold and stiff on the ground, sometimes alighting on a hand, sometimes on a face; and the child, in an ecstasy of delight, screaming, and laughing, and stretching out its little arms, pursued it from place to place. What a time was this for reflection! Here was life in the midst of death—the pursuit of pleasure among the most fatal and least endurable examples of pain. It was a wonderful sight! The girl seemed to know neither want nor sorrow; and continued her sport, indifferent to the spectral shapes that lay extended at her feet. Their ghastly stare, and gaunt visages, had no terrors for her. The hunt of the butterfly occupied all her thoughts, and the hope of attaining possession of its beautiful colours seemed the only desire entertained. After watching her movements with indescribable interest for several minutes, I advanced towards the child, and invited her to go with me. I had considerable difficulty to get her to leave the butterfly; and when I led her away from the spot, she chatted with infantile volubility, as if there was nothing else but the butterfly in the world.

“I found the people of the northern provinces hospitable, and with them I lived for nearly half a century. They escaped the ravages of the pestilence by not allowing any infected persons from the neighbouring counties, who crowded towards the borders, to enter into their territory. None had presented themselves during the prevalence of the famine but myself; and their own frugality saved them from the horrors which had desolated England. They looked upon the southern portion of the island as a doomed country, for although several parties from the north had gone there for the purpose of forming settlements, they either returned after a short stay, stating that neither cattle nor crops would nourish on the land, or were never more heard of, and were supposed to have fallen victims to the pirates who occasionally visited the coast. I passed my time in educating the two children of whom I had taken charge, and both made great progress under my instructions. The boy became a fine, active, intelligent man, the girl an admirable example of womankind; and as I found that their hearts were for each other, in due time I had them made man and wife. I have outlived them and all their progeny, with the exception of Lilya, whom, after the decease of her family, I took with me to England, having at the time an ardent desire to revisit its desolated shores.

“What I found England I need scarcely describe; you see it before you. It was a complete ruin. A sad and miserable remnant of her people did strive to till the land; but the soil refused to give sustenance to the seed, and the cultivator could gather nothing but a harvest of weeds. The earth was abandoned for the waters, and the farmers became fishermen; but the sea and the river gave an inadequate supply. One by one the inhabitants dropped off, till at last the only human creatures within the country were myself and Lilya. We managed to subsist by hunting and fishing. Our fare was not at all times very delicate, and was seldom very plentiful; but we provided for ourselves tolerably well. We were obliged to rely upon our own resources; for the savage appearance of the island, and the belief that it was doomed to destruction, prevented our being visited by any vessels from the continent; and even the pirates from the neighbouring islands, having found that the country contained nothing to tempt them to a visit, turned their attention to more opulent regions. Lilya and I, therefore, had the whole land to ourselves, and over it we held absolute sovereignty. Even the savage monsters of the forest appeared to acknowledge our supremacy, for none offered to molest us. We took our way through deserted piles and fallen monuments; and if we disturbed the lion in his lair, or the eagle in his eyrie, they made way for our approach, and returned to their haunts when we were gone.

“Thus passed the time. Lilya grew up as you see—a child of the forest, skilful in snaring game, and in preserving skins; affectionate in her manner, gentle in her temper, and shy as a dove in her nest. As for me, I was a wanderer over the lands of my forefathers. The stream, the vale, the mountain, and the plain, were accustomed to my visits. I became a denizen of the forest and the plain—a resident in the deserted cities. I found a dwelling in the palace and the hut; and all places were my home. I experienced a melancholy pleasure in beholding the scenes in which the greatness of my country had once been exhibited. I walked among the crumbling ruins of her once gorgeous halls. The sunken roofs of her stately cathedrals for me were full of religious awe and veneration; the dilapidated battlements of her ancient castles seemed still to show the dauntless valour of the spirits by whom they had been defended; and the moss and lichens that disfigured her public monuments gave only a fresher interest to the worth they represented. From these I gathered the memories of a better time, and the glories of the past warmed my old heart with the vigour of a second youth. I lived over again the departed age—I recalled to life the buried generations—I contemplated the happiness which the grave had long since hid in her bosom—and the discoloured stones around me seemed to echo the busy goings on of an industrious population. Free hearts were throbbing proudly around me, and the stillness of the desert along which I stalked was made alive with the pleasures of the young, the noble, and the brave.

“Gone is your glory, oh my country!” exclaimed the old man, in a more feeble voice; “your greatness among the nations is put down; your magnificence has dwindled to a heap of stones; your power has nothing by which it may be known. If the stranger come in a few years, and inquire for the city which was the wonder of the world, none shall tell him, for both city and citizens will have crumbled into dust. If he ask for the people whose name was a glory in every clime that exists, he shall find no better reply than the echo of his own voice. He may wander over the brave old island in search of places that history has made immortal, without being able to discover a trace of their existence. The thistle and the nettle will hide the graves of its illustrious; ravenous beasts will prowl in its cities; and all that is noble and grand in its localities will be crushed, swallowed, and lost in one devouring ruin; and I, that am here as an ancient tree with gnarled trunk and brittle boughs, that stands up as if unnoticed by the destroyer, when the rest of the forest have mouldered into the soil, will then have perished and passed away, and not even a remembrance of my name will be left upon the land.”

“Noble old man!” exclaimed Oriel Porphyry with fervour, “there is no one here who does not sympathise with your situation. I would endeavour to console you, but I am afraid that your case is one beyond all consolation. What can I do to render you assistance? Let me prevail on you to leave this land, which has been so completely devoted to destruction, and I will find you a more attractive home, and friends as kind as those you have lost.”

“Leave this land!” loudly cried the Englishman, apparently astonished at the suggestion. “For a hundred and twenty years this island has been the attraction of all my thoughts; my love for it arose from admiration of its magnificence, and my heart still clings to it in its utter annihilation. Do you think it would be possible for me, after having made myself so familiar with its ruins, to find pleasure in the prosperity of a far off country? No! to me the world hath nothing like it. What are smiling landscapes? What are stately edifices? What are fields busy with life, and cities astir with industry, if on a foreign shore? Its homes are not my home—its graves are not the graves of my people. But these tottering walls and depopulated lands are mine; I hold them in undisputed possession; I have a claim on them which has been long acknowledged; and they have a claim on me which I feel I must speedily prepare to liquidate. No: leave me to the desolation in which I dwell. It has become habitual—it has become necessary. I have long, perhaps too long, been its inhabitant; but the hour comes when another ruin must be added to those which now encumber the soil.”

“And then what is to become of the gentle Lilya?” inquired the young merchant.

“Ah! ’tis of that I am ever anxious,” replied the old man, with a look of affectionate solicitude towards his youthful relative. “The child is full of amiable ways—she is artless and untutored: I cannot part with her; and yet to leave her unprotected in this wilderness is a source of constant disquietude to me.”

“If you entrust her to me,” added Oriel, “by the honour of manhood I promise to behave to her as a brother; and I will place her under the protection of a lady from whom she will receive every attention her youth and unfriended situation requires.”

“In her name I can promise all that she stands most in need of,” said Zabra.

“What say you, my Lilya?” inquired the Englishman. “Will you go with the strangers? Will you leave this wretched country, and seek one where happiness awaits you?”

“I will have no other country but yours, oh my protector!” exclaimed the girl, as she flung herself into the old man’s arms. “These strangers are good; but they can never be so good as you have been: and these old walls too—where shall I meet with such verdant moss, or such beautiful ivy, as they possess? While you live, with you must my existence be passed: and when you have ceased to lead me in my wanderings through the silent forest or the deserted city, I care not where I go; for I shall never again find the parent, the friend and guardian I shall have lost.”

The Englishman pressed her more closely to his breast.