LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1543, 29 January 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MASTER OF THE GOLDEN HOUSE. ["London Society."] (Concluded.) It is at all times ea-ier, both literally and metaphoiically, to get into a wood than to get out of it. I blundered about my wood for a little time, until I blundered to the edge of my friendly cutting again. I walked along until I saw in the moonlit distance the low square t wcr of Brettingham church. Ido not profess to be able to expkin, but my impression and resolve were that I was to go to the church. The village struck me as pretty, old-fashioned, and picturesque. The moonlight was so clear that I took the day's paper out of my pocket, and was able to read a few lines distinctly. I struck a vesuvian and lighted a cigar, one of my favorite Partagas. I recollect distinctly what a loud echo I aroused as I stole through the vacant village street. I passed the little inn The thought struck me that I would knock at the door and arouse the people. It wa°, however, one thing to knock, and another to arouse them. I knocked and knocked, but there was not the slightest answer. There might have been fire or murder, for any good that rural public-house might have effected. I remember a > wed that, high up in a bigger kind of house, as I left the village, there was a light burning. That light puzzled me In an aimless kind of way I began to speculate about it. Was anybody ill, and a silent watcher th-re by a hopeless bedside ? the>e some writer or student earnestly working awaya* some subject with which great issues v. e e c • mooted ? Was there snme poor bai itf-Lauwted man to whom the light W3s a signal that be might return in safety to the home for a few hours which ye<; remained of mght. I stride on. Only the deeo baying of a smtjle hound from one of the homesteads saluted me. I was in t'e country agin. But b t me not a%y that ihe cuntry side was vo'ce'ess. To one wuo hai an cy;.< an;! ear attuned, this is neve» really the case. The wind sighed, the trees groaned, *,he rivuleh whisnered, the iusecta chirrup red, the owl blinked, the '■ at How, the lkinet sprang, the pheasant whirred, in the little distance as I climlud t*e hdl

But very singularly, as I turned a corner of tbe i-Lh and for tte firat time the full side of thf church came into view, it struck me that there was a light burning through a window close ti an augle of a building, Co-<M it be any re-Unction of the moonlight ? Could it be the first Hush of the dawu, for the night was now nearly worn away? I soon satisfied myself that it could be neither. I resolved to reconnoitre. What possibly

< mild be going ou in a lonely country church at such an hour ? Wan it likely—so the sospiiion arose in my mini—that any one coniu oe tampering With the pariah register? J wonder !l ii»" readers knot* much about parish registers ? T I ftpp D t'> know a good deal about theni. In the preset trim and taut days of ecclesiastical accuracy registers are kept most punctiliously. They are deposited in strong na f es, and, what makes everything retire, duplicate copies are transmitted to Somerset House. Hut the old regissers were kept very differently. Sometimes the clergyman kept them, kept them knocking about his study or den ; or the c?erk perhaps kept them in equally careless fashion : or tin y may have been so much lumber in the vestry, or have been properly scored therein in chests of oak or iron. There are now separate books for birth?, deaths, and marriages ; but in old times a ginjle brok < ftm served for all three.

How these things may have beer managed in Brettingham parish Ido not know. But this in what I saw in tho vestry of Brettingban church.

1 stole quietly along, mrsking myself quite sure that the light which 1 saw was in tli3 vestry of the church. I contrived to raise myself, and to peer through the small diamond panes of th? little window. Sitting leisurely at a table, with his head student fashion resting on his hand, with all tie peacefulness and iunocence of an overworked meriterious curato diligently engaged in the archaeological pursuit of reading up the old parish register, was Seymour Simpson, Esq., gentleman, an attorney of the law. There were just one or two circumstances which interfered with tho harmonious surfoundings of this peaceful and literary gentleman. In the first place, he was reading the registers by the light of a villanouslooking lantern which would have don" credit to any burglar. In the second place, a neat penknife was lying open in the immediate neighborhood of old parchment, where penknife ought not to be, and a severed piece of parchment was lying by In the third place, a small revolver was ill in harmony with tho sacred eurroundings of the place. I gaze-i intently through tho window, and watched him for several minutes minutes that might have gone on for half an hour. At last he came to an entry which appear d to absorb his attention very greatly. Hfi then turned to another part of the volume altogether. Then the penknife was raised and was drawn towards the volume. Mr Simpson leisurely lifted up his eyes towards the window. Then his eyes were raised towards mine. Acting on the impulse of the moment, I gave a perfect yell and dashed my stick through the glass. He started up, one hand holding some pages of the register-book, and tho other a pistol. All the exeicement of battle was upon me a? I closed with him. Presently he seized the pistol and fired. The bullet whizzed close to my ears. Then there came a heavy blow on my head, and I fell prostrate. When I awoke it was in the clear, first fresh hour of dawn. I was thoroughly confused, and cou'd not recall where I was. A tall figure, with venerable locks and kindly aspect, was bending over me. • Are you better ?' he said. ' You have been violently stunned. At first I was afraid that you had been killed.' The encounter had taken p'ace just outside the vestry-door in the churchyard. ' My s n ha-! been ill for days with typhoid fever. He had been deliriously raving. I thought his time was come and that his life was very near vn end. Suddenly, at halfpast fonr, he turned round to me. and said quite quietly, ' Father, there's a pistol-shot in the direction of the church.' I had not heard it, I cannot conceive it possible that he could have heard it, except that in the de irium of fever the senses are sometimes preternaturally heightened. But _ looking out fr mi one of the windows in his room, which commands the churchyard, I saw that there was a light in the vestry. So 1 put on my overcoat and came to see.' ' Were you not afraid ?' ' Afraid ! Thank God, I do not think that I know what fear is. I should not be afraid <f g»ing to my own parish church, whore T hav* ministered all these year 3, and where I should specially feel myself under the wing of the Almighty. But tell me all about it.'

Some explanation followed, and while I was speaking the vicar went to a gravestone and took up a paper that was fluttering past. In the heal; of the scuffle the wretch hai dropped the moat important page of a'l from the register. It was that winch recorded the marriage of Kate Bampfylde to John Egerton, the one missing link of Eleanor's pedigree. CIIU'TER X. A GOLDEN KNOCKER. That Christmas day Hleanor and I were married in ths little chapel of Moor Hall by the v<ry specialest of licensees. We were to be son and daughter to old Bampfylde. f am ti) as-ume the name and arms of Bampfylde. The old vicar, whrse son is perfectly recovered, married us. The day after the cereTiony Mr Blogram left us for Kamskatka. Of the guests who had been invited to resume their chambers with the golden knockers, Mr Seymour Simpson was ' conspicuous by his absence.' De had taken his departure, on an important legal investigation, for Australia. The long arm of the law could reach him there ; but he counted, not inaccurately, on our forbearance. Eleanor's claim had been carefully investigated hy old Mr Bampfylde and Mr Blogram, and they wove so entirely satisfied with it thai; they did not think it necessary to refer tne matter to a bench of possible judges Mr Grote, in one of his notes to his history, says that a judge owned to him that if hi heard a good story well put. he found it almost impossible to divest a bias. So much of the always lurks in the judge Such a judge we found in Mr Bampfylde. His own heart pleaded for us, and I expect the decision would have been in our favor even if our case had been weak, instead of the strong one that it was. With the railway company I seemed likely to have a long and animated correspondence. The secretary inveighed against the atrocitv of my conduct. To so obvious a remark there was of course no rejoinder. I followed Napoleon's principle, and allowed the company's letters to answer themselves. Bampfylde, howeve% has a keen onsci?nc3 in all these matters, and called at the office and settled their claim. He insists, with characteristic whimsicality, that for a twelvemonth at least we shall occupy the bridal chamber, Golden Knocker £<o. I, which always excited the admiration of his guests. The Brothers Salvini, of Padua, are exhibiting in the Paris Universal Exhibition an edition of Dante's " Divina Commcdia," which is the smallest book printed since printing was invented. The type is the smallest ever cast. The book is live centimetres in length and three and a half in width, and consists of 500 pages. An edition of 1000 copies will appear within the next few days.* Upon a space comprising less than eight square centimetres thirty verses are printed. Professor Heim of Zurich states that the stone taken from the Drachenfels and employed in the most ancient parts of the Cathedral of Cologne—the foundations and pillars is in such a state of decay and chemical decomposition that the tumbling down of the whole edilice may be expected before the end of the present century. An old legend has it that the plan of the cathedral was furnished by the devil, and that the cathedral can, therefore, never be completed. The Now York managers propose to get up a testimonial performance to the celebrated American actor, John Gilbert, who will shortly celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of bis tfobut on the stage.

Mr Prank liellew, a son of the late Eev. Mr Jiellew, proposes to take for the future the stage name of Charles 11. (J oldaworthy. Ac ording (o the Swiss übicu of mortality jub.; issued, 597 persons committed suicide last year in Switzerland, which is at the rate ot 1 in every 4000 inhabitants, a greater proportion than obtains in any other European country.