imperious assault. I crave your pardon for my inconsiderate error."

"You speak more like a practised cavalier than a scholar of the cloister," said the sister of the Proprietary; "you have a cava lier's love of the sport, Albert."

"It does not beseem me, madam," was the Secretary's reply. "to affect a pastime which belongs neither to my rank nor hum ble means; but, in truth, dear lady, I do love hawk, and hound, and steed. And when in my sequestered study-where, being, as I thought, destined to the service of the altar, I read mostly of holy men and holy things, little dreaming that I should ever see the world-it sometimes chanced, in my stray reading, I fell upon a lay wherein deeds of chivalry were told; and then I was conscious of a wish, I am now almost ashamed to confess, that fortune might some day bring me better acquainted with that world to which such deeds belonged. Oh! it has befallen now :

that is, I mean to say," continued the Secretary, checking himself, as his flashing eye fell to the floor and a blush flitted across his brow" it has pleased Heaven to give me a kind master in my good Lord, who does not deny me to look on when these sports are afield."

"And if we did strike down the heron, Blanche Warden," said Benedict Leonard, saucily accosting the maiden, and showing the hawk that was bound to his wrist-"what is a heron good for but to be brought down? Herons were made for hawksyes, and for the hawks of the Proprietary above all others; for I have heard say that every heron on the Chesapeake, within my father's boundary, is his own bird: so Derrick has said a hundred times. And there is my uncle Talbot, who flies a hawk better than any other in the province-I don't care if Derrick hears me— and has the best mews,-he says that these fire-arms have broken up hawking in the old country; and he told me I must not let it

fall through when I come to the province; for my father, he thinks, doesn't care much for it. I promise you in my time we shall have hawking enough-chide as you like, Mistress Blanche. It was partly for me that my uncle Talbot sent us this cast of birds. Look at that laneret, Blanche,-look at her! Isn't that a bird? Talk to me of a goshawk after that!"

"Benedict-nephew," interposed the Lady Maria, "why dost thou fling thy bird so rudely? She brushes Blanche's cheek with her wing. Pray, not so bold: Blanche will not like thee for it."

"Blanche will never quarrel with me for loving my hawk aunt," replied the boy playfully. "Will you, mistress? A laneret's wing and Blanche Warden's cheek are both accounted beautiful in this province, and will not grow angry with each other upon acquaintance."

"I know not that, Benedict," replied the maiden; "my cheek may grow jealous of your praise of the wing, and mischief might follow. She is but a savage bird, and has a vicious appetite."

"I will away to the falconer," said the boy. "It is but wasting good things to talk with women about hawks. You will find me, Master Albert, along the bank with Derrick, if you have need of me."

"That boy has more of the Talbot in him thar the Calvert," said the Lady Maria, after he had left the room. "His father was ever grave from youth upwards, and cared but little for these exercises. Benedict Leonard lives in the open air, and has a light heart. You have a book under your mantle, Master Albert," continued the lady. "Is your breviary needful when you go forth to practise a laneret ?"

It is a volume I have brought for Mistress Blanche,” replied the Secretary, as, with some evident confusion, he produced a gilded quarto with clasps, from beneath his dress. "It is a

delightful history of a brave cavalier, that I thought would please her."

"Ah!" exclaimed the sister of the Proprietary, taking the book and reading the title-page-"La très joyeuse et plaisante Histoire, composée par le Loyal Serviteur, des faits, gestes et prouesses du bon Chevalier sans peur et sans reproche.' Ay, and a right pleasant history it is, this of the good Knight Bayard, without fear and without. reproach. But, Albert, you know Blanche does not read French."

"I designed to render it myself to Mistress Blanche, in her native tongue," replied the Secretary.

"Blanche," said the lady, shaking her head, "this comes of not taking my counsel to learn this language of chivalry long ago. See what peril you will suffer now in journeying through this huge book alone with Master Albert."

"I see no peril," replied the maiden, unconscious of the raillery.

"Master Albert will teach me, ere he be done, to read French for myself."

"When you have such a master, and the Secretary such a pupil," said the lady, smiling, "Heaven speed us! I will eat all the French you learn in a month. But, Master Albert, if Blanche can not understand your legend, in the tongue in which it is writ, she can fully comprehend your music-and so can we. It is parcel of your duty at the Rose Croft to do minstrel's service. You have so many songs-and I saw you stealing a glance at yon lute, as if you would greet an old acquaintance."

"If it were not for Master Albert," said Alice, "Blanche's lute would be unstrung. She scarce keeps it, one would think, but for the Secretary's occupation."

Ah, sister Alice, and my dear lady," said Blanche, "the Secretary has such a touch of the lute, that I but shame my own ears to play upon it, after hearing his ditties. Sing, Master

Albert, I pray you," she added, as she presented him the in

strument.

"I will sing to the best of my skill," replied Albert, "which has been magnified beyond my deservings. With your leave, I will try a canzonet I learned in London. It was much liked by the gallants there, and I confess a favor for it because it has a stirring relish. It runs thus:

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,

That from the nunnery

Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress, now I chase,
The first foe in the field;

And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such

As you too shall adore:

I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honor more.'"

"Well done! Well touched lute-well trolled ditty! Brave song for a bird of thy feather, Master Verheyden !" exclaimed the Collector, who, when the song was finished, entered the room with Cocklescraft. "That's as good a song, Master Cocklescraftthe skipper, ladies-my friend of the Olive Branch, who has been with me this hour past docketing his cargo: I may call him especially your friend-he is no enemy to the vanities of this world. Ha, Master Cocklescraft, you have wherewith to win a world of grace with the petticoats!-you have an eye for the trickery of the sex! Sit down, sir-I pray you, without further reverence, sit down."

The skipper, during this introduction, stood near the door, bowing to the company, and then advanced into the room with a careless and somewhat overbold step, such as denotes a man who, in the endeavor to appear at his ease in society, carries his acting

to the point of familiarity. Still his freedom was not without grace, and his demeanor, very soon after the slight perturbation of his first accost, became natural and appropriate to his char acter.

"Save you, madam," he said, addressing the sister of the Proprietary, and bowing low, "and you, Mistress Alice, and you, my young lady of the Rose Croft. It is a twelvemonth since I left the port, and I am glad to meet the worshipful ladies of the province once again, and to see that good friends thrive. The salt water whets a sailor's eye for friendly faces. Mistress Blanche, I would take upon me to say, without being thought too free, that you have grown some trifle taller than before I sailed. I did not then think you could be bettered in figure.”

The maiden bowed without answering the skipper's compli ment.

"Richard Cocklescraft," said the Collector, "I know not if you ever saw Albert Verheyden. Had he come hither before you sailed? His Lordship's secretary."

"I was not so lucky as to fall into his company," replied Cocklescraft, turning towards the Secretary, and eyeing him from head to foot. "I think I heard that his Lordship brought new comers with him. We shall not lack acquaintance. Your hand, Master Verdun-I think so you said?" he added, as he looked inquiringly at the Collector.

The Collector again pronounced the name of the Secretary with more precision.

"Nearly the same thing," continued the skipper. "Master Verheyden, your hand: mine is something rougher, but it shall be the hand of a comrade, if you be in the service of worshipful Master Anthony Warden, the good Collector of St. Mary's. I know how to value a friend, Master Secretary, and a friend's friend. You have a rare voice for a ballad-I pretend to have