heard something extraordinary in the course of the night. It is needless to describe particularly the various rumours which each contributed to the common stock, with the greater alacrity that in such cases there seems always to be a sort of disgrace in not having seen or suffered as much as others. The most moderate of the narrators only talked of sounds like the mewing of a cat, or the growling of a dog, especially the squeaking of a pig. They heard also as if it had been nails driven and saws used, and the clashing of fetters, and the rustling of silk gowns, and the notes of music, and in short all sorts of sounds which have nothing to do with each other. Others swore they had smelt savours of various kinds, chiefly bituminous, indicating a Satanic derivation; others did not indeed swear, but protested, to visions of men in armour, horses without heads, asses with horns, and cows with six legs, not to mention black figures, whose cloven hoofs gave plain information what realm they belonged to. But these strongly-attested cases of nocturnal disturbances among the sentinels had been so ge neral, as to prevent alarm and succour on any particular point, so that those who were on duty called in vain on the corps-de-garde, who were trembling on their own post; and an alert enemy might have done complete execution on the whole garrison. But amid this general alerte, no violence appeared to be meant, and annoyance, not injury, seemed to have been the goblins' object, excepting in the case of one poor fellow, a trooper, who had followed Harrison in half his battles, and now was sentinel in that very vestibule upon which Everard had recommended them to mount a guard. He had presented his carabine at something which came suddenly upon him, when it was wrested out of his hands, and he himself knocked down with the butt-end of it. His broken head, and the drenched bedding of Desborough, upon whom a tub of ditch-water had been emptied during his sleep, were the only pieces of real evidence to attest the disturbances of the night. The reports from Harrison's apartment were, as delivered by the grave Master Tomkins, that truly the General had passed the night undisturbed, though there was still upon him a deep sleep, and a folding of the hands to slumber, from which Everard argued that the machinators had esteemed Harrison's part of the reckoning sufficiently paid off on the preceding evening. He then proceeded to the apartment doubly garrisoned by the worshipful Desborough, and the philosophical Bletson. They were both up and dressing themselves, the former open-mouthed in his feeling of fear and suffering. Indeed, no sooner had Everard entered, than the ducked and dismayed Colonel made a dismal complaint of the way he had spent the night, and murmured not a little against his worshipful kinsman, for imposing a task upon him which inferred so much annoyance. "Could not his Excellency, my kinsman Noll," he said, "have given his poor relative and brother-in-law a sop somewhere else, than out of this Woodstock, which seems to be the devil's own porridge-pot? I cannot sup broth with the devil; I have no long spoon-not I. Could he not have quartered me in some quiet corner, and given this haunted place to some of his preachers and prayers, who know the Bible as well as the muster-roll? whereas I know the four hoofs of a clean-going nag, or the points of a team of oxen, better than all the books of Moses. But I will give it over, at once and for ever; hopes of earthly gain shall never make me run the risk of being carried away bodily by the devil, besides being set upon my head one whole night, and soused with ditch-water the next-No, no-I am too wise for that." Master Bletson had a different part to act. He complained of no personal annoyances; on the contrary, declared he should have slept as well as ever he did in his life, but for the abominable disturbances around him, of men calling to arms every half hour, when so much as a cat trotted by one of their posts-He would rather, he said, "have slept among a whole Sabbath of witches, if such creatures could be found." "Then you think there are no such things as apparitions, Master Bletson?" said Everard. "I used to be sceptical on the subject; but on my life, to-night has been a strange one." "Dreams, dreams, dreams, my simple Colonel," said Bletson, though his pale face, and shaking limbs, belied the assumed courage with which he spoke. "Old Chaucer, sir, hath told us the real moral on't-He was an old frequenter of the forest of Woodstock, here” "Chaser ?" said Desborough; "some huntsman belike, by his name-Does he walk, like Hearne at Windsor ?" "Chaucer," said Bletson, "my dear Desborough, is one of those wonderful fellows, as Colonel Everard knows, who live many a hundred years after they are buried, and whose words haunt our ears after their bones are long mouldered in the dust." 66 66 Ay, ay! well-I for one desire his room rather than his company-one of your conjurers, I warrant him. But what says he to the matter?” Only a slight spell, which I will take the freedom to repeat to Colonel Everard," said Blet"but which would be as bad as Greek to thee, Desborough.-Old Geoffrey lays the whole blame of our nocturnal disturbance on superfluity of humours, son; 'Which causen folke to dred in their dreams For fear of great bulls and bears black, 161730 |