heads at every turn. Almost it ought to begin like the fairy tales,
_Once upon a time,_--it took place so long ago; but it is too dreadful
and too true to tell like a fairy tale.--There were two brothers, sons
of the chief of our clan, but as different in appearance and disposition
as two men could be. The elder was fair-haired and strong, much given to
hunting and fishing; fighting too, upon occasion, I dare say, when they
made a foray upon the Saxon, to get back a mouthful of their own. But he
was gentleness itself to every one about him, and the very soul of
honour in all his doings. The younger was very dark in complexion, and
tall and slender compared to his brother. He was very fond of
book-learning, which, they say, was an uncommon taste in those times. He
did not care for any sports or bodily exercises but one; and that, too,
was unusual in these parts. It was horsemanship. He was a fierce rider,
and as much at home in the saddle as in his study-chair. You may think
that, so long ago, there was not much fit room for riding hereabouts;
but, fit or not fit, he rode. From his reading and riding, the
neighbours looked doubtfully upon him, and whispered about the black
art. He usually bestrode a great powerful black horse, without a white
hair on him; and people said it was either the devil himself, or a
demon-horse from the devil's own stud. What favoured this notion was,
that, in or out of the stable, the brute would let no other than his
master go near him. Indeed, no one would venture, after he had killed
two men, and grievously maimed a third, tearing him with his teeth and
hoofs like a wild beast. But to his master he was obedient as a hound,
and would even tremble in his presence sometimes.

"The youth's temper corresponded to his habits. He was both gloomy and
passionate. Prone to anger, he had never been known to forgive. Debarred
from anything on which he had set his heart, he would have gone mad with
longing if he had not gone mad with rage. His soul was like the night