wedge, cut their desperate path through the fierce swarm of opposing foes,
who, like incarnate demons, rushed to the onslaught, and fell in heaps
before the biting steel of these experienced soldiers. Pressing forward
with unyielding bravery, Fitzwalter won the castle walls; whence, with the
assistance of such frail aid as the living spectres on the battlements
could give, he beat back the Welsh host, and in another quarter of an hour,
having dispersed the enemy with frightful loss, gained free entrance to the
castle. Feeble was the shout of triumph which welcomed Fitzwalter and his
brave companions; the corpses of the unburied dead lay strewed upon the
pavement; the heroic countess, and her attendant damsels, clad in the
armour of the slain, weakened by famine, and hopeless of succour, yet still
striving to deceive the besiegers by the display of living warriors, by
this stratagem retarded the assault which they could not repel. Fitzwalter
took advantage of the darkness of the night, and the panic of the
Welshmen, to withdraw from a fortress which was destitute of all the
implements of war; and with the rescued ladies mounted behind them, the
brave band returned to the court of King Stephen; and the charms of the
fair one, and the valour of her chivalric defender, formed the theme of the
minstrel in every knightly hall and lady's bower throughout Christendom.

* * * * *



SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *


THE CONFESSIONS OF AN ENGLISH NOVEL READER.