ield
this tremendous engine at their will, directing it either to good or bad
intents, but more often to purposes of fraud and self-aggrandisement.

* * * * *

In the ancient and well-thriven town of Manchester formerly dwelt a
merchant of good repute, Cornelius Ethelstoun by name. Plain dealing and
an honest countenance withal, had won for him a character of no ordinary
renown. His friezes were the handsomest; his stuffs and camlets were not
to be sampled in the market, or even throughout the world; insomuch that
the courtly dames of Venice, and the cumbrous vrows of Amsterdam and the
Hague, might be seen flaunting in goodly attire gathered from the
store-houses of Master Cornelius.

His coffers glittered with broad ducats, and his cabinets with the
rarest productions of the East. His warehouses were crammed, even to
satiety, and his trestles groaned under heaps of rich velvets, costly
brocades, and other profitable returns to his foreign adventures. But,
alas!--and whose heart holdeth not communion with that word!--Cornelius
was unhappy. He had one daughter, whom "he loved passing well;" yet, as
common report did acknowledge, the veriest shrew that ever went
unbridled. In vain did his riches and his revenues increase; in vain was
plenty poured into his lap, and all that wealth could compass accumulate
in lavish profusion. Of what avail was this outward and goodly show
against the cruel and wayward temper of his daughter?

Kate--by this name we would distinguish her, as veritable historians are
silent on her sponsorial appellation--Kate was unhappily fair and
well-favoured. Her hair was dark as the raven-plume; but her skin, white
as the purest statuary marble, grew fairer beneath the black and glossy
wreaths twining gracefully about her neck. Her cheek was bright as the
first blush of the morning, and ever and anon, as a deeper hue was
thrown upon its rich but softened radiance, she looked like a vision
from Mahomet's paradise--a being nurtured by a warmer sky and fiercer
suns than our cold climate can sustain. She had lovers, but all approach
was denied, and, one by one, they stood afar off and gazed. Her pretty
mouth, lovely even in the proudest glance of petulance and scorn, was so
oftentimes moulded into the same aspect that it grew puckered and
contemptuous, rendering her disposition but too manifest; and
yet--wouldest thou believe it, gentle reader?--she was in love!

Now it s