warriors and dames once met in
chivalric pomp, and the chieftain held his feudal and barbaric court.

The point on which it stood is nearly on the line of separation between
the counties of York and Lancaster. From the southern declivity of the
hill on the Yorkshire side springs one of the rills which fall into the
Hodder, a well-known stream, held in great respect by those ambulatory
gentlemen whose love of society and amusing recreations leads them to
lay in a stock of patience for life in the pursuit of piscatory
delights.

This mountainous tract forms part of the forest of Bowland, once ranged
by numerous herds of deer, and is still under the jurisdiction of a
master-forester, or bow-bearer, called _Parker_, which office has been
held for centuries by a family of that name.

It was in the broad and still moonlight of a spring morning, in the year
16--, that two horsemen were ascending by a steep and difficult pass
through the Trough of Bolland, along the hills and almost pathless wilds
of the forest. They were apparently of that dubious class called
"Knights of the Post,"--highway-men, deer-stealers, or cattle-harriers;
all and every of which occupations they occasionally followed.

As they passed by the edge of a steep ravine, from which hung a few
stunted oaks projecting over the gulf, the foremost rider--for the path
admitted them not abreast--turned sharply round on his saddle.

"Again!--Didst thou not see it, Michael?" inquired he, in great alarm.

"Nothing, Anthony, as I do follow thee in this honest trade;--nothing, I
tell thee, save thine ugly face in this clear moonshine. Prythee, make
more speed, and thou wilt have the fewer wry mouths to answer for. Thou
art fool enough to make a man forswear honesty, and rid him of his
conscience for life. Beshrew me! thou hast got a troublesome tenant;
either less roguery, or fewer qualms; depend on 't, thou canst not keep
friends with both."

"I'll go no farther. Old Hildebrand finds some foul business on his
hands, that he would fain thrust into our fingers. A bad business quits
best at the beginning; if once we get to the middle, we might as well go
on, or we may be like old Dick, who swam half-way through the mill-pond,
and then, being faint-hearted, swam back again."

"Look thee now, thou art a precious ass:--thou wouldst be a wit without
brains, and a rogue, ay, a very wicked and unconditional rogue, without
courage. Tut, that same cowardly rogue, of all u