Geoffrey Hamlyn

ope, from the Battle of Trafalgar to the Peace

dest. All down the stormy page of this great island's history one sees, once in a about a hundred years, that name in some place of second-rate honour at least, whether as admiral, general, or statesman; and yet, at the beginning of

ey Buckley, in the "South Sea" scheme to retrieve the family fortunes, had well nigh broke them. Year by year they saw acre after acr

is beloved Collingwood; and on the 19th October 1805, when Nelson and Collingwood made tryst to meet at the gates of hell, John Buckley was one of the immortals on the deck of the "Royal Sovereig

e for the groom, who had been despatched to Portsmouth to gain some tidings of the lieutenant. They had heard of the victory, and, in their simple way, had praised God for it, drinking a bottle of the rarest old wine to his Majesty's h

. The curate ran down the steps, and taking a black-edged letter from the sorrowful groom, gave it into the trembling hands of the old man with a choki

the midst of the din of victory, had found time to scrawl a word to his old schoolmat

man's solemn sorrow. The autumn sun had gone down in wild and lurid clouds, and the gallery was growing dark and gloomy, when the white figure of a beautiful girl entering silently at the lower

in his honest heart that she would make a better comforter than he, and rightly; for the old man, bending over her, lifte

ears; "and gone the way a man should go. But

poor James! I wonder if he k

you, and came posting over as fast as he could,

opened, and a tall and noble-looking youn

broad forehead and bold blue eyes. Old Marmaduke's hea

e old house will not perish yet, while

request, and walked out together thro

ou with him like a ministering angel. Say something to comfort me, my love. You never could love John

t, fighting for his country's existence. And, James, if you must go before me, and leave me a widow before I am a bride, it w

here will be a long and bloody war, and who knows how it will end? Stay you here quiet with the old man, my love,

sses, and a few days afterwards James we

ke a ray of sunlight, now reading to him, now leading him into the flower-garden in fine weather, till he grew quite fond of flowers for her sake, and began even to learn the names of some of them. But oftenest of all she would sit working by his side, while he told her stories of times gone by, stor

nting, which roused the old man up and made him look glad for half a day after. Still, however, Agnes and the old curate were company enough for him, for they were the only two who loved his absent son as well as he. The love which had been d

wed him in their hearts along the path of glory, from Talavera by Albuera and Vittoria, across the Pyrenees. And while they were yet reading a long-delayed letter, written from Toulouse at midnight - af

maduke and the curate discreetly walking in front, and James and Agnes loitering far behind. And in the succeeding winter after they were married, what pleasant rides had they to meet the hounds

more certain day by day, till the terrible news broke on them that the faithless tyrant had bro

the storm. But she was soon to be undeceived. When the news first came, James had galloped off to Portsmouth, and late in the evening they saw him come

ve; and I must leave

ths married? Surely the king has had you long enough

ined by the whole army, and the craven king has fled. If England and Prussia can combine to strike a blow before he gets head, thousands and hundreds of thousan

odious in the midnight woods, the swallows nestled again in the chimneys, and day by day the shadows under the old

race, till the curate - having got through his own services somehow, and broken down in the

e for reinforcements. If the two armies could effect a union, they would be near about the strength of the F

ng stood the appointed time in the serried square, watching the angry waves of French cavalry dash in vain against the glittering wall of bayonets - is now leaning against a gun in the French p

he long three days none of them spoke much, but wandered about the house uneasily. About ten

at the gate, and a sound of horses' feet on th

there?"

rd at Portsmouth," said a voice

door; and going to the window a

what the news

g her for one of the servants. "Your master is all

at the orderly thought me a most heartless domestic, for when I heard what he said, I burst out laughing so

in up her BETE NOIR, Buonaparté, on a lonely rock in the Atlantic, that he might disturb the world no more. Then at last she bega

h all the honours and emoluments thereunto pertaining. Perhaps when I have finished, you will think him not so much of a hero after all. B

when the son and heir was rolling and crowing on his grandfather's bed, and Agnes was sewing at the window, and James was tying a

though at one time I meant to do it. The land and the house are the worst investment you can have for your money, and if you sell, a man like you may make money in many ways. Gordon the brewer is dying to have the place, and he has more right to it than we have, for he has ten acres round to our one. Let him have the estate and found a new family; the people will miss us at first, God bless 'em, but they'll soon get used to Gordon, for he's a kindly man, and a just, and I am glad that we shall have

ld man passed peacefully fr

e was the last of the Buckleys that slept in the grave of his forefa

begin the world again. He funded his money and made up his mind to wait a few years and see what to do; determining that if no other course should open, he would emigrate to Canada

Major and he very soon became fast friends, and noble Mrs. Buckley was seldom a day wit