"FOUND DEAD," "LOST SIR MASSINGBERD," "CARLYON'S James Payn NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE. 1869. This Story is published in England under the ALTERED title of "A County Family." But the American Publishers, with the concurrence of the Author, have retained his original title, “A BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK." Transter from Circ. Dept. Washington Heights Br. April 26-07. A BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK; OR, A COUNTY FAMILY. CHAPTER I. SLOGAN. On the northern coast of North Wales stands Slogan, with its foot in the sea. It is a great mountain; great in size, though that is its least remarkable attribute; great in wealth, for it is a treasure-house of useful stone; and great in dim historic memories. On its summit was once the camp of a British host, year after year; but the Roman eagles never flew so high. Around it still survive, like circlets about a monarch's crown, three mighty rings of débris, that were, a thousand years ago, three ramparts of stone. Within them are still visible the casemates in which the defenders lived, and watched, as from an eyrie, land and sea. Many a vale, now fertile, can be seen from it, stretched out like an open map, and the rugged outlines of a hundred hills. On the calmest day in June, there is wind enough on Slogan's top to belly out the folds of a royal standard, which mayhap (in some shape or another) in days of old it did. But at present he is high and huge enough, and though girdled about by tram-ways, and divided into stages by inclines (which should be rather called "perpendiculars "), these are scarcely to be seen from the foot of him at all. You must toil up some winding path, worn in the slag and refuse, to discover them. Then you will also find that Slogan is a very ant-hill of human beings. About his forehead men are clustering like ants indeed; appearing and disappearing, some with burdens, and some without, but all in motion. The mountain resounds with the stroke of their picks; with the echoes of the bugles, which give warning that a blast is about to take place; and with the roar of the blasts themselves. From terrace to terrace the stone is carried in huge trucks, that descend with immense velocity, and are connected by an endless chain, which by their weight at the same time hauls up "the empties." By the side of these inclines are ladders of stone, by which the quarrymen go up and down. These workers, whose calling lies in so weird a spot, two thousand feet and more above the fields in which their forefathers labored (for this trade is comparatively new), are, in their appearance, different from other men. They are giants-often in height, but always in thews and sinews. breeze of the mountain or of the sea blows perpetually upon them, and they thrive in it amaz The But few folks care to climb to the summit now, or to concern themselves therewith. As with the maiden in the ballad, it is the face of Slogan which is his fortune. Not, however, as in her case, by reason of its beauty. It is scarred and seamed, as surely no other mountain ever was, by the hand of man. Not Xerxes, with all his power, could, in his insolent domi-ingly. The hammers which they use with ease, nation over nature, have so transformed a hill, a field laborer could scarcely lift. They are as as the patient hewers of stone have altered Slo- good-natured as were the Goths, but, like them, gan. are subject to fits of passion, and then Naturally grim and stern enough, he has now, They are affable, but it is no use addressing thanks to pick and gunpowder, become one scar. them in the English tongue, because they do not Like an ancient warrior, whose ferocity has been speak it. They understand, however, the one enhanced by the small-pox, he scowls upon the word "beer," especially when accompanied by smiling summer sea. Fifty times a day he emits, the exhibition of a silver coin. For the rest, volcano-wise, a little puff of smoke, and then the the magistrates assure you that they are an exstones come rattling down, and there is yet an-tremely well-conducted race of people, and the other blemish in his majestic features. Some Established clergy have nothing to say against of him, in point of fact, is gone. A day will them, or to do with them at all. come (forty generations hence, however) when Upon this August morning there are six hunSlogan will indeed be literally, as well as met- dred of these Titans upon Slogan, armed with aphorically, a thing of the past. The last wag- spade and pick, but it is now noon-the truceon-load of him will then have gone to pave the time between them and Nature, when they lay streets of what may be Liverpool and Manches-aside their weapons, to dine. Upon the most ter in one. elevated terrace, and approached from the rest ing considerable talent for figures, he had been employed by the agent for the quarries, first at his office, and subsequently on the mountain, and was now biding his time-preparing himself, meanwhile, by incessant study in leisure hours-for quite another line in life, that of civ only by these steep inclines, there are a hundred | gan. men or so, consuming their midday meal-gen- tional School to be pupil-teacher; then exhibitA parish orphan, he had risen at the Naerally a hunch of bread and meat that would last you and me for a week. Some of them sitting in the open, under the shadow of the cliff; some in the little bombproof huts, which are built very literally as "shelters from the blast;" and a few even swinging against the face of the rock from the ropes that support them there dur-il engineer, an appointment connected with ing their labors. Dangling between sea and which profession had been promised to him by sky, in a manner that makes one dizzy to be- his present employer. It was the old story of hold, they lazily cut and munch, and watch the a self-made and self-making man, but with a white-sailed ships come out and in, that carry difference. John Denton's nature was not of away the result of their labors from the little jet- that grasping sort which uses all things only to ty; but otherwise they are not greatly interest- one end. He was ambitious, but not so greedy ed in the spectacle that nature spreads before of success as to deny himself all refreshments them, and which causes such exhibitions of enthu- upon the road to it, so that, when it is reached siasm in those summer visitors from the neigh- at last, the appetite for them, so unnaturally boring village who have the hardihood to reach | thwarted, has fled forever. the spot. There is one such visitor even now; the enjoyments of life as one may wait for One may wait for a tall young fellow of what is called "distin-one's dinner-too long; and perhaps John Denguished" appearance, and certainly of an ap- ton might have done so, his mind being deeply pearance very distinguished from the rest of set upon getting on in the world, had it not the occupants of the plateau. and rendered still more so by the black mus- ing for himself alone. His eyes were so bright, His face is pale, been for one circumstance: he was not worktache he wears, curved like a bow, and twisted and his face so smiling--although, as we have at the ends; his small hands are as white as a hinted, it would now and again flush angrily at woman's; and though his limbs are well and his companion's tone--because there was a cerstrongly shaped enough, he seems, by compari-tain modest damsel, on the other side of Slogan, son with those sons of Anak about him, almost like a woman in man's clothes; he appears effeminate even by contrast with the young overlooker by whose side he stands, and who is explaining to him the details of the scene before him. And yet John Denton is no Hercules. He is only a fine strong-built young fellow, with an eye like a hawk, and a broad brow, over which the short brown curls cluster so thickly that it seems low; his fingers, it is true, are long enough to have pertained to one of much greater height, and are extraordinary supple; his speech is precise and distinct, whether he gives directions to the quarrymen in their own tongue, or addresses his companion in English. It was in this, rather than in build, that the most tlemen quarrymen here, then? Well, upon my "Mr. Blackburn, eh? What! have we genmarked difference between himself and Herbert life, now you mention it, there is an air of past Stanhope lay. The latter spoke with effort-grandeur about that old fellow, as though he used that languid mode affected more or less by all young men of his class, and which, to some ears (notwithstanding that the speaker may mean to be civil and well-behaved enough), sounds always galling and contemptuous. And thus it was in the present case, where certainly no assumption of superiority was intended. Herbert Stanhope was no drawling swell from the Row or St. James's Street, but he had passed much of his life among those silly fops, and had contracted their manner. If he had been born a poor man, and Denton a rich one, their present positions might quite possibly have been reversed: as it was, the former was running through his fortune as quickly as racehorses (and other luxuries pertaining to "fast" life) could help him to do it; while John Denton was making his way up the social ladder with as sure a foot as he scaled the inclines of Slo who had promised to be his bride, in good time; head, Mr. Overlooker? Denton, with irritation. had seen better days." certainly by far the senior of those present, wore These remarks referred to one who, while also a look of superiority almost as great as that of Mr. Stanhope himself, although it owed nothing (as in his case) to attire, which was that of with his back to the rock, his arms folded, his a common laborer. This personage was sitting lips compressed, and his eyes darting from underneath their shaggy brows no very agreeable glances upon Stanhope himself. ly; "do you not see that he observes you are better cigar than he ever smoked in dreams, scorn, as he drew from his pocket a seal-skin ing Miss Ellen tells him how wicked it is thus case. "If you offer him money," interposed Denton hastily, "he will break your head in with his pick, sir. Anthony Blackburn is as much a gentleman as you are, every whit, although he is a poorer man than even I." "What!" ejaculated the other, in a voice that, in his great surprise, had lost every trace of languor, "do you mean to tell me that that is Anthony Blackburn of Derbyshire-the man who was disinherited fifty years ago for marrying his mother's waiting-maid? Why I've heard iny grandfather tell that story a dozen times. My own house is within half a dozen miles of Redcombe Manor: I know the place as well as you know this quarry.' "If you know any thing about such matters, sir, for Heaven's sake, do not speak of them so loud. The remembrance of all that has passed and gone is bitter to him as gall, and needs no revival. He was shamefully used by his own flesh and blood, as I have heard-parents, and brothers, and all." "Yes, it was hard lines. His father, Russell Blackburn (who was as proud as Lucifer, and as cruel), turned him out-eldest born though he was in the cold, for marrying the girl for whom they do say the old satyr had a penchant himself; then, when he died, the three brothers followed suit. I don't suppose any one of them ever gave our friend there a farthing." ́ Ay, but they were punished for it," answered Denton gravely. "They were cursed in root and branch." "What! by the old gentleman yonder?" returned Stanhope with a cynical smile. "Well, I dare say they were. But hard words did not break their bones, my good friend-it was hard riding that did that; at least, the second brother, Ferdinand, broke his neck in a steeple-chase; and something of the same sort happened to his son. to-" "And who is Miss Ellen?" As though to recompense himself for the unwonted interest he had evinced in his recent talk, Mr. Herbert Stanhope put this question with raised eyeglass and an elaborate indifference. "She is Anthony Blackburn's orphan grandchild,” said John Denton quietly, after a little pause. "And the only one?" inquired the other lazily. "Gad, I'd take fifty to one, in ponies, about her coming into the property after all." "Ellen is only the granddaughter," observed Denton coldly. "Anthony had another son besides her father.' "Had! Is he dead, then ?" But before this question could be answered, a young girl came swiftly round the more distant corner of the crag with a covered basket in her hand, and on towards the spot where the old man was still sitting, with his eyes moodily fixed upon the ground. But "What a charming little fairy!" observed Mr. Stanhope critically; "with what a grace she carries herself as well as her basket! it must be hard work for her coming up these steep inclines of yours, Mr. Overlooker, eh?" "She does not come up that way," answered Denton curtly; "there is a path over the mountain down to this top level.* "How queer it seems to see a petticoat among all these rough fellows," continued the other musing. "It must be rather a dangerous experiment for her, surely?" "What! for a modest young girl to bring her grandfather his dinner?" returned John Denton bitterly. "It may be different-I have heard it is-among gentlemen such as you; but if any man here were to offer her an insult, the rest of them would pitch him down the mountain, as though he were a barrow of rubbish; and serve him right, too!" added the speaker with vehemence. "To be thrown from the Tarpeian Rock for snatching a kiss from yonder pretty damsel? Well, that seems a severe punishment, consid Then hard living killed the third brother, Charles-he drank like a fish, and would not permit a woman to come within the Manor gates; but he had his good points, people said. Then Richard was drowned in the Dove. In fact, if it was not for young Dick, this old genering the great temptation," answered the other tleman stonebreaker might yet enjoy his own again, for, as I have heard, his name was put in the entail by his father last of all, by way of mockery, since it seemed out of the question that he should survive three younger brothers and their children. However, against nineteen (for Dick is scarcely of age), sixty-eight (and old Anthony must be that at least) has not much chance; and, moreover, Dick's going to be married." coolly. "I had no idea the Welsh code of morals was such a strict one. The Registrargeneral's Report upon the subject- Ah!" cried the speaker, perceiving the young girl had seated herself by the old man's side, “that is Anthony Blackburn's granddaughter, is it? Then, now I see what you mean. There is something in good blood, after all the Radicals have said, which carries weight with it even here, it seems. You look upon this young girl as a sort of lady, eh! although she has been dispos sessed of her property: well, it's very creditable to you, Mr. Overlooker, and shows how the feudal spirit still survives in these outlandish latitudes." "For Heaven's sake, don't tell him that, sir!" exclaimed Denton earnestly. "It is a hopeless fancy, as you say; but, nevertheless, he clings to the idea that he shall still one day be master of Redcombe Manor. It is his dream by night, his castle in the air by day. He is always "You mistake, sir, altogether," answered saying how that young Squire Richard has a Denton in a voice that shook with passion. short throat, and will die of a fit, notwithstand-"All blood is alike in my eyes, and all women |