built by
the monks of Furness, where prayers were daily offered for the safety
of travellers then occupied in this perilous attempt. Yet these,
called the Ulverstone sands, are scarcely more than three miles
across, whilst the well-known Lancaster sands are nine miles, from the
circuitous line of the track, though it is said that the shorter
passage is the more dangerous. That the longer journey is not
unattended with risk may be inferred from the accidents which have
occurred, as well as from the fact, that carriages are sometimes left
to the mercy of the coming tide, the passengers making their escape in
the best manner they are able.

Our tale hath reference to one of these perilous adventures, long
years ago; and as neither plot nor story is evolved, the reader is
warned, if he so please, that he leave the few following pages unread,
unless he be of a temper not liable to suffer disappointment thereby.

The night was beautifully calm: the moon just sinking upon the verge
of the distant waters, where the Bay of Morecambe, the great estuary
so called, according to some authorities, by Ptolemy, opens out into
the broad channel of the Irish Sea.

The stars shone down, keen, bright, and piercing,--"fixed in their
everlasting seat,"--ever presenting the same aspect, the same order
and disposition, through all the changes of this changing and mutable
world. The scene was peculiarly inviting--so calm, so placid, the
whole wide and visible hemisphere was without a blot. Nature, like a
deceitful mistress, looked so hypocritically serene, that her face
might never have been darkened with a cloud or furrowed by a frown. So
winning was she withal, that, though the veriest shrew, and all
untamed and ungovernable in her habits and conditions, this night she
became hushed and gentle as the soothed infant in its repose.

The same night came down to the Kent side, intending to set out on
their perilous march over the sands of the bay, divers travellers,
well mounted for the occasion. Yet were their steeds much harassed,
weltering in mud and foam, by reason that their journey had been both
long and hasty, and their business urgent, nor were they yet without
apprehension of pursuit. They looked wistfully down towards the west,
where the moon hung over the ocean's brim, a red ensanguined crescent,
as if about to dip her golden bowl into the raging deep, or mayhap to
launch her glittering bark on that perilous tide. For, in good soot