n carried down to the Priory of Bisham, in
Berkshire, where among their ancestors by the mother's side (the Earls
of Salisbury), the two unquiet brothers rest in one tomb.... The large
river of their blood, divided now into many streams, runs so small, they
are hardly observed as they flow by." (Habington's "Life of Edward IV.,"
one of the most eloquent compositions in the language, though incorrect
as a history).--"Sic transit gloria mundi."] and on that spot had the
renowned friar conjured the mists, exorcised the enchanted guns, and
defeated the horrible machinations of the Lancastrian wizard.

And towards the spot, and through the crowd, a young Yorkist captain
passed with a prisoner he had captured, and whom he was leading to the
tent of the Lord Hastings, the only one of the commanders from whom
mercy might be hoped, and who had tarried behind the king and his royal
brothers to make preparations for the removal of the mighty dead.

"Keep close to me, Sir Marmaduke," said the Yorkist; "we must look to
Hastings to appease the king: and, if he hope not to win your pardon, he
may, at least, after such a victory, aid one foe to fly."

"Care not for me, Alwyn," said the knight; "when Somerset was deaf save
to his own fears, I came back to die by my chieftain's side, alas, too
late! too late! Better now death than life! What kin, kith, ambition,
love, were to other men was Lord Warwick's smile to me!"

Alwyn kindly respected his prisoner's honest emotion, and took advantage
of it to lead him away from the spot where he saw knights and
warriors thickest grouped, in soldier-like awe and sadness, round
the Hero-Brothers. He pushed through a humbler crowd of peasants and
citizens, and women with babes at their breast; and suddenly saw a troop
of timbrel-women dancing round a leafless tree, and chanting some wild
but mirthful and joyous doggerel.

"What obscene and ill-seasoned revelry is this?" said the trader to a
gaping yeoman.

"They are but dancing, poor girls, round the wicked wizard whom Friar
Bungey caused to be strangled, and his witch daughter."

A chill foreboding seized upon Alwyn: he darted forward, scattering
peasant and tymbestere with his yet bloody sword. His feet stumbled
against some broken fragments; it was the poor Eureka, shattered, at
last, for the sake of the diamond! Valueless to the great friar, since
the science of the owner could not pass to his executioner,--valueless
the mechanism and the