at in such scenes, those silly rhymes taught
us in our childhood of the green woods and the summer cuckoos, of bold
Robin and Maid Marian, ring back in our ears. Alas that this fair land
should be so often dyed in the blood of her own children! Here, how the
thought shrinks from broils and war,--civil war, war between brother
and brother, son and father! In the city and the court, we forget others
overmuch, from the too keen memory of ourselves."

Scarcely had Montagu said these words, before there suddenly emerged
from a bosky lane to the right a man mounted upon a powerful roan
horse. His dress was that of a substantial franklin; a green surtout
of broadcloth, over a tight vest of the same colour, left, to the
admiration of a soldierly eye, an expanse of chest that might have vied
with the mighty strength of Warwick himself. A cap, somewhat like a
turban, fell in two ends over the left cheek, till they touched
the shoulder, and the upper part of the visage was concealed by a
half-vizard, not unfrequently worn out of doors with such head-gear,
as a shade from the sun. Behind this person rode, on a horse equally
powerful, a man of shorter stature, but scarcely less muscular a frame,
clad in a leathern jerkin, curiously fastened with thongs, and wearing a
steel bonnet, projecting far over the face.

The foremost of these strangers, coming thus unawares upon the
courtiers, reined in his steed, and said in a clear, full voice, "Good
evening to you, my masters. It is not often that these roads witness
riders in silk and pile."

"Friend," quoth the Montagu, "may the peace we enjoy under the White
Rose increase the number of all travellers through our land, whether in
pile or russet!"

"Peace, sir!" returned the horseman, roughly,--"peace is no blessing to
poor men, unless it bring something more than life,--the means to live
in security and ease. Peace hath done nothing for the poor of England.
Why, look you towards yon gray tower,--the owner is, forsooth, gentleman
and knight; but yesterday he and his men broke open a yeoman's house,
carried off his wife and daughters to his tower, and refuseth to
surrender them till ransomed by half the year's produce on the yeoman's
farm."

"A caitiff and illegal act," said Montagu.

"Illegal! But the law will notice it not,--why should it? Unjust, if it
punish the knight and dare not touch the king's brother!"

"How, sir?"

"I say the king's brother! Scarcely a month since, twe