was smothered by contempt. The title and inheritance returned to the
heir, who was worthy his ancient name. Robert, to the day of his
death, lived on his brother's bounty, harmless, the rather that the
king's decree had gone forth that in no case should he be Richard's
successor, or inherit aught from him.

* * * * *

NOTE.--Here ends the tale, but by patient research we have discovered
one verse of an ancient ballad, supposed to have the same tradition
for its subject. It is preserved in a curious collection of
fragmentary poetry, to be found in most private libraries, and, in its
more ancient and valuable editions, in the repositories of
antiquaries. It stands, in the modern copy which we possess, as
follows:--

Richard and Robert were two pretty men;
Both laid abed till the clock struck ten.
Up jumps Robert, and looks at the sky;
"Oho, brother Richard, the sun's very high!
You go before, with the bottle and bag,
And I'll come behind, on little Jack nag."

THE SEA.

"We sent him to school, we set him to learn a trade, we sent
him far back into the country; but it was of no use, he must
go to sea."--THE GRANDMOTHER'S STORY.

A child was ever haunted by a thought of mystery,
Of the dark, shoreless, desolate, heaving and moaning sea,
Which round about the cold, still earth goes drifting to and fro,
As a mother, holding her dead child, swayeth herself with woe.
In all the jar and bustle and hurrying of trade,
Through the hoarse, distracting din by rattling pavements made,
There sounded ever in his ear a low and solemn moan,
And his soul grew sick with listening to that deep undertone.
He wandered from the busy streets, he wandered far away,
To where the dim old forest stands, and in its shadows lay,
And listened to the song it sang; but its murmurs seemed to be
The whispered echo of the sad, sweet warbling of the sea.
His soul grew sick with longing, and shadowy and dim
Seemed all the beauty of the land, and all its joys, to him,--
Its mountains vast, its forests old. He only longed to be
Away upon the measureless, unfathomed, restless sea.
Thither he went. The foam-capped waves yet beat upon the strand,
With a low and solemn murmuring that none may understand;
And he lieth drifting to and fro, amid the ocean's roar,
With the drifting tide he loved to hear, but shall hear never more.

And thus we all