liberation. I have passed three days within the Tower, and only ascertained your place of confinement a few hours ago. I have contrived a plan for your escape, with the jailor's daughter, which she will make known to you to-morrow.'

'I cannot thank you sufficiently for your devotion,' replied Viviana, in accents of the deepest gratitude. But I implore you to leave me to my fate. I am wretched enough now, heaven knows, but if aught should happen to you, I shall be infinitely more so. If I possess any power over you-and that I do so, I well know-I entreatnay, I command, you to desist from this attempt.'

I have never yet disobeyed you, Viviana,' replied the young merchant, passionately-' nor will I do so now. But if you bid me abandon you, I will plunge into this moat, never to rise again.'

His manner, notwithstanding the low tone in which he spoke, was so determined, that Viviana felt certain he would carry his threat into execution; she therefore rejoined in a mournful tone,

Well, be it as you will. It is in vain to resist our fate. destined to bring misfortune to you.'

I am

'Not so,' replied Chetham. If I can save you, I would rather die than live. The jailor's daughter will explain her plan to you to-morrow. Promise me to accede to it.'

Viviana reluctantly assented.

'I shall quit the Tower at daybreak,' pursued Chetham; 'and when you are once out of it, hasten to the stairs beyond the wharf at Petty Wales. I will be there with a boat. Farewell!'

As he spoke, he let himself drop into the water, but his foot slipping, the plunge was louder than he intended, and attracted the attention of a sentinel on the ramparts, who immediately called out to know what was the matter, and not receiving any answer, discharged his caliver in the direction of the sound.

Viviana, who heard the challenge and the shot, uttered a loud scream, and the next moment, Ipgreve and his wife appeared. The jailor glanced suspiciously round the room; but after satisfying himself that all was right, and putting some questions to the captive, which she refused to answer, he departed with his wife, and carefully barred the door.

It is impossible to imagine greater misery than Viviana endured the whole of the night. The uncertainty in which she was kept as to Chetham's fate was almost insupportable, and the bodily pain she had recently endured appeared light when compared with her present mental torture. Day, at length, dawned. But it brought with it no Ruth. Instead of this faithful friend, Dame Ipgreve entered the chamber with the morning meal, and her looks were so morose and distrustful, that Viviana feared she must have discovered her daughter's design. She did not, however, venture to make a remark, but suffered the old woman to depart in silence.

Giving up all for lost, and concluding that Humphrey Chetham had either perished, or was, like herself, a prisoner, Viviana bitterly bewailed his fate, and reproached herself with being unintentionally the cause of it. Later in the day, Ruth entered the cell. To Viviana's eager inquiries she replied, that Humphrey Chetham had escaped. Owing to the darkness, the sentinel had missed his aim, and although the most rigorous search was instituted throughout the fortress, he had contrived to elude observation.

'Our attempt,' pursued Ruth, 'must be made this evening. The

lieutenant has informed my father that you are to be interrogated at midnight, the chirurgeon having declared that you are sufficiently recovered to undergo the torture (if needful) a second time. Now listen to me. The occurrence of last night has made my mother suspicious, and she watches my proceedings with a jealous eye. She is at this moment with a female prisoner in the Beauchamp Tower, or I should not be able to visit you. She has consented, however, to let me bring in your supper. You must then change dresses with me. Being about my height, you may easily pass for me, and I will take care there is no light below, so that your features will not be distinguished.'

Viviana would have checked her, but the other would not be interrupted.

'As soon as you are ready,' she continued, 'you must lock the door upon me. You must then descend the short flight of steps before you, and pass as quickly as you can through the room where you will see my father and mother. As soon as you are out of the door, turn to the left, and go straight forward to the By-ward Tower. Show this pass to the warders. It is made out in my name, and they will suffer you to go forth. Do the same with the warders at the next gate,-the Middle Tower,-and again at the Bulwark-Gate. That passed, you are free.'

'And what will become of you?' asked Viviana, with a bewildered look.

'Never mind me,' rejoined Ruth: 'I shall be sufficiently rewarded if I save you. And now, farewell. Be ready at the time appointed.'

'I cannot consent,' returned Viviana.

'You have no choice,' replied Ruth, breaking from her, and hurrying out of the room.

Time, as it ever does, when expectation is on the rack, appeared to pass with unusual slowness. But as the hour at length drew near, Viviana wished it farther off. It was with the utmost trepidation that she heard the key turn in the lock, and beheld Ruth enter the cell with the evening meal.

Closing the door, and setting down the provisions, the jailor's daughter hastily divested herself of her dress, which was of brown serge, as well as of her coif and kerchief, while Viviana imitated her example. Without pausing to attire herself in the other's garments, Ruth then assisted Viviana to put on the dress she had just laid aside, and arranged her hair and the head-gear so skilfully, that the disguise was complete.

Hastily whispering some further instructions to her, and explaining certain peculiarities in her gait and deportment, she then pressed her to her bosom, and led her to the door. Viviana would have remonstrated, but Ruth pushed her through it, and closed it. There was now no help, so Viviana, though with great pain to herself, contrived to turn the key in the lock. Descending the steps, she found herself in a small circular chamber, in which Ipgreve and his wife were seated at a table, discussing their evening meal. The sole light was afforded by a few dying embers on the hearth.

'What, has she done already?' demanded the old woman, as Viviana appeared. Why hast thou not brought the jelly with thee,

.

if she has not eaten it all, and those cates, which Master Pilchard, the chirurgeon, ordered her. Go and fetch them directly. They will finish our repast daintily; and there are other matters too, which I dare say she has not touched. She will pay for them, and that will make them the sweeter. Go back, I say. What dost thou stand there for, as if thou wert thunderstruck? Dost hear me, or not?'

'Let the wench alone, dame,' growled Ipgreve. her.'

'You frighten

'So I mean to do," replied the old woman, 'she deserves to be frightened. Hark thee, girl, we must get an order from her on some wealthy Catholic family without delay-for I don't think she will stand the trial to-night.'

'Nor I,' added Ipgreve, especially as she is to be placed on the rack.'

'She has a chain of gold round her throat I have observed,' said the old woman; we must get that.'

'I have it,' said Viviana, in a low tone, and imitating as well as she could the accents of Ruth. Here it is.'

?'

'Did she give it thee?' cried the old woman, getting up, and grasping Viviana's lacerated fingers with such force, that she had difficulty in repressing a scream. 'Did she give it thee, I say 'She gave it me for you,' gasped Viviana. Take it.' While the old woman held the chain to the fire, and called to her husband to light a lamp, that she might feast her greedy eyes upon it, Viviana flew to the door.

Just as she reached it, the shrill voice of Dame Ipgreve arrested her.

'Come back!' cried the dame. 'Whither art thou going at this time of night? I will not have thee stir forth. Come back, I say.' 'Pshaw! let her go,' interposed Ipgreve. 'I dare say she hath an appointment on the Green with young Nicholas Hardesty, the warder. Go, wench. Be careful of thyself, and return within the hour.'

'If she does not, she will rue it,' added the dame. Go, then, and I will see the prisoner.'

Viviana required no further permission. Starting off, as she had been directed, on the left, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her; and, passing between two arched gateways, soon reached the By-ward Tower. Showing the pass to the warder, he chucked her under the chin, and, drawing an immense bolt, opened the wicket, and gallantly helped her to pass through it. The like good success attended her at the Middle Tower, and at the Bulwark Gate. Scarcely able to credit her senses, and doubting whether she was indeed free, she hurried on till she came to the opening leading to the stairs at Petty Wales. As she hesitated, uncertain what to do, a man advanced towards and addressed her by name. It was Humphrey Chetham. Overcome by emotion, Viviana sank into his arms, and in another moment she was placed in a wherry, which was ordered to be rowed towards Westminster.

Merrie England in the olden Time:

OR, PEREGRINATIONS WITH UNCLE TIM AND MR. BOSKY, OF LITTLE BRITAIN,

DRYSALTER.

BY GEORGE DANIEL.

Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale?'-SHAKSPEARE.

CHAPTER IV.

'A MERRY morning, Eugenio. Did not soft slumbers and plea sant dreams follow the heart-stirring lucubrations of Uncle Timothy? I am mistaken if you rose not lighter and happier, and in more perfect peace with yourself and the world.'

My dreams were of ancient minstrelsy, Christmas gambols, May-day games, and merriments. Methought Uncle Timothy was a portly Apollo, Mr. Bosky a rosy Pan-'

And you and I, Eugenio ?'

'Foremost in the throng.'

'Of capering satyrs! Well, though our own dancing days are over, we still retain a lingering relish for that elegant accomplishment. As antiquaries we have a great reverence for dancing. Noah danced before the ark. Certain it is that there were Vestrises and Taglionies in the antediluvian world. The boar's head and the wine and wassail were crowned with a dance to the tune of "The Black Almayne," "My Lorde Marques Galyarde," and "The firste Traces of due Passa."

"Merrily danced the Quaker's wife,
And merrily danced the Quaker!"

Why not? Orpheus charmed the four-footed family with his fiddle: shall it have less effect upon the two?'

'The innocent and the happy, while the dews of youth are upon them, dance to the music of their own hearts. "See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing!" The savages have their war-dance, and the high and low of every country their national jigs. The Irishman has his lilt; the Scotchman his reel, which he not unfrequently dances to his own particular fiddle! and the Englishman his country-dance. With dogs and bears, horses and geese, gamecocks and monkeys exhibiting their caprioles, shall man be motion

There is an odd print of Vestris teaching a goose to dance. The terms, for so fashionable a professor as he was in his day, are extremely moderate; Six guineas entrance, and one guinea a lesson.' The following song is inscribed underneath.

'Of all the fine accomplishments sure dancing far the best is,
But if a doubt with you remains, behold the Goose and Vestris :
And a dancing we will go, will go, &c.

Let men of learning plead and preach, their toil 'tis all in vain,
Sure labour of the heels and hands is better than the brain:

less and mute? Sweetly singeth the tea-kettle; merrily danceth the parched pea on the fire-shovel! Even grim death has his dance.' And music, Eugenio, in which I know you are an enthusiast. What says the immortal?

"The man that hath not music in himself,

Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,

Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils :

The motions of his spirit are dull as night,

And his affections dark as Erebus:

Let no such man be trusted."

The Italians have a proverb, " Whom God loves not, that man loves not music." The soul is said to be music.

"Such harmony is in immortal souls;

But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it."

We read of the hymning of the morning stars, the music of the spheres:

"From harmony-from heavenly harmony

This universal frame began;

From harmony to harmony,

Through all the compass of the notes it ran,

The diapason closing full in man."

And of the general effect of music, take the oft-quoted lines of Congreve,

"Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,

To soften rocks, and bend the knotted oak."

Then talk no more, ye men of arts, 'bout keeping light and shade,
Good understanding in the heels is better than the head:

And a dancing, &c.

Great Whigs, and eke great Tories too, both in and out will dance,
Join hands, change sides, and figure in, now sink, and now advance.
And a dancing, &c.

Let Oxford boast of ancient lore, or Cam of classic rules,
Noverre might lay you ten to one his heels against your schools!

And a dancing, &c.

Old Homer sung of gods and kings in most heroic strains,
Yet scarce could get, we have been told, a dinner for his pains.

And a dancing, &c.

Poor Milton wrote the most sublime 'gainst Satan, Death, and Vice;
But very few would quit a dance to purchase Paradise.,

And a dancing, &c.

The soldier risks health, life, and limbs, his fortune to advance,
While Pique and Vestris fortunes make by one night's single danco.
And a dancing, &c.

'Tis all in vain to sigh and grieve, or idly spend our breath,
Some millions now, and those unborn must join the dance of death.
And a dancing, &c.

Yet while we live let's merry be, and make of care a jest,
Since we are taught what is, is right; and what is right, is best.

And a dancing, &c.'