LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1808, 6 December 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

SHOOTING THE RAPIDS. [From "Cassell's Magazine." ' Curious, isn't it, how the old customs still hold their own ? Here ia the fashion of penance by pilgrimage still in vogue, with the additional aggravation of calling it "travelling for pleasure."' 'Well, Edward,' said a sweet voice, ■ that's a very pretty compliment to us — your companions. I think I ought to make yon do penance for that.' • That's rizht, Mips Wentworth, keep him in order,' chimed a third ' However, going abroad has this one advantage for ns Knglish, that there we can sometimes venture to seem amused without thereby commits ng the seven deadly sins in one.' Such were the words which passed among the group of four—two ladies and two gentlemen—petted at lunch on the balcony of the Hi'tel du lihin, at Schaffhausen, one sunny afternoon in the month of May. The first speaker was a fine-looking young man of three-and-twenty, whose comely features, dark, curling hair and tall, well-shaped figure, amply bore out the name of "handsome Ned," given him by his intimates, Youßg, rich and good-looking, popular with high and low, in theplentitudeof health and vigor, lately betrothed to the charming girl who3e soft lustrous eyes were slyly watching him half tenderly, half archly from the other side of the board—Viscount Montague might fairly account himself an extremely lucky fellow. But, upon the bright, young face, and manly as it was, brooded the doomed look that haunts one in the portraits of Montrose, of Charles 1., ominously bearing out the gloomy tradition current among the elders of his native country, that "the last of the Mont-agues " was so in a double sense, and that with him the grand old line which had loft its mark upon every age of English history since the days of the Tudors was doomed to pass away for ever. Beside him sat his inseparable associate, Sedley Burdett, whose square, muscular figure, and frank, sunburnt face looked the embodiment of Young England at its best Side by side the two young men had shot buffaloes on American prairies, stalked rr.oose through the forests of Canada, "bowled over" royul tigers In Bengal, and hob-nobbed with negro kings on the coast of Africa, and they were now, /ante de mievx, escorting the " Flower of Kent" and her mother on the inevitable tour through Switzerland, not without a secret hope that some unsealed mountain might afford them a chance of breaking their necks in the good old TSritiah way. ' Did you see how old Johann eyed me as he brought in the lunch ?' said Montague. ' He's evidently a devout believer in the Continental creed, that an Englishman's natural pastime is to knock somebody down, or set a bouse on fire, or make a heavy bet that he'll jump headforemost out of the v. indow, and thfn do it forthwith." 'Or,' laughed Burdett, *jnst what Tr Bucanan Maid to me yesterday : * Mein Herr, those countrymen of yours !' When I was practising In Paxony I had no peace fcr tbem. First thing in th>> morning, kling! kling ! at my door.' 'What is it?' 'An Englander, who has broken his leg in trjing to scale the Teufels horn, which no one can ever ascend.' I set the Herr England er's leg, and am making him comfortab'e, when kltng 1 kling ! again. ' What now J' * An Inlander nearly drowned In swimming across the Elbe for a wager.' I wrap the Herr Englander In hot blankets and bring

him to. Before an hour is over, kling ! kling ! once more. 'MemHerr! what's the ma'ter?' 'An Englander, who has broken a Wood vessel in trying to run twelve miles an hpur. because somebody Baid he couldn't.' ■ Moin ETerr, I am sorry to have to say it, bnt your countrymen, are equally de old. of fear and reason.'

' But you won't do any more of these horrible things now, Edward,' said Marion Wentwortb, entrentingly ; ' yon promised to be more careful, you know, while you were with M.'

' Pon't be frightened, my child,' answered the Visconnt, with his gay laugh ; ' believe me, I have no intention of being killed any sooner than is necessary. Would you believe it, Sed ? this unreasonable young woman is making herself miserable, and daily cxpscting a notification to attend my funer.i', 'no better grounds than an old monk's prophecy.'

'An old monk's prophecy ?' 'What, havrn't you heard of it?' cried Montague. ' Well, this is a treat, to find one man to whom that story's nnw. You must know (as those fellows in Sanford and Merton keep saying) that the estate which Harry the Eighth bestowed upon my respectable ancestor, f irAnthmy Br .wnfi. icc'n "e 1 Rattle Abbey and the lands belonging to it ; and mighty short work he made of the poor old monks, if all the tales be true. But after they were expelled, it began to be whispered that one Btill rcmiiinsd in the old and that he was not to be driven out by either king or lord. 'My word.' cried Burdett, 'that's just the Black Friar of Norman Stone over again. Bo you remember with what dramatic cnersy our old tutor used ti repeat thst verse : " 'Beware, beware, of the Black Friar! He still retains his sway, For he i« still the Church's heir, Whoe'er may be the lay, Amnndeville is lord by day ; But the monk is lord by night; Nor wine nor watsal can raise a vasßal

To question that friar's right.' " 'Well,' pursued Montague, 'when my worthy forefather camo into his property, the first thing he did was to give a big dinner in the preat hall of Battle Abbey (if he found it half as tiresome as the dinner I had to give wheu I came of age, the impiety must have been its own avenger), and they lighted up the old place with a perfect blaze of torches and held high revel till midnight. And then all of a sudden, a chill of blast wind came moaning through the hall, making all the old banners and mail coats along the wall clank and rnstle; and the huge door swung slowly open, and in Ihe midst of the guest", no one could se9 whence or how, appeared the shrouded figure of a tall monk. It glided like a shadow up to the dais where my ancestor wps seated, and sild, in a deep, hollow voice that r eemed to make the very torches grow pale as it spoke : ' Anthony of Cowdray! thnu hast enriched thyeelf with the spoils of God's Church, and for this deed His judgments are upon thee and thine. As snow melts in the sunshine, so shall thy race decay, until the end comes; and it shall come suddenly, in one day, by fire and by water 1' It was strange enough to note how Montague's light tone deepened into tragic solemnity 36 the dismal tale proceeded, and how the shadowy impress of doom on his handsome face came out plainer and plainer with every word. The anxious look in Marion Wentworth's eyes grew into absolute terror as he ended ; and she seemed about to speak when the waiter's entrance with a dish of fruit interrupted her. As he entered, M rs Wentwortb, evidently wishing to change the subject, spoke to him. ' Waiter, when did you say the night illumination of the Falls was to be ?'

' Thursday week, gracious lady ; but it will hardly be as good as the one we had last year, when they sent a big boat over the falls, hung all round with lanterns.'

Hl' Was there anybody in her Y asked Mon tagne.

' What do you say, milord ?' gasped the old man, with a stare of amazement.

' Was there anybody in the boat ?' ' The boat, milord J The boat went over the falls, I tell you.' ' Well, why shouldn't somebody go with her to keep her straight ?' ' Why ?' echoed Johann, goaded beyond endurance, ' Because we Khinelanders are no fonder of being drowned than other people, I've seen many a silly thing done in mytime, but a shooting the SchafThaueen Falls in a boat is a thing I've never seen yet and never shall.'

(To be continued.")