which extends along two entire sides of this court. Few apartments can now be traced, and those only on the first story. On the outside of these two fronts of the higher ballium, is an immense moat, hewn in the solid rock, which mingles at unequal heights with the stones of the ramparts and towers above, so that the whole, both on a distant and near view, seems more like an excrescence from the rock than the work of human hands; so singularly are the crags and the hewn ashlar intermingled, and the whole mass coated over with lichens and ivy.

The erection of this fortress was commenced in 1220 by Randal Blundeville, sixth Earl of Chester, "who, after he was come from the Holie Land, began to build the castels of Chartleie and Beeston, and after he also builded the abbeie of Dieu l'Encresse, toward the charges susteined about the building of which castels and abbeie he took toll throughout all his lordships of all such persons as passed by the same, with any cattel, chaffre, or merchandize."

On the death of John Scott, the last of the local earls, in 1237 (21 Henry III.), the king, previous to the assumption of the earldom into his hands, seized on the castles of Chester and Beeston.

In 1256 (40 Henry III.), Prince Edward (to whom his father had two years previously assigned the principality of Wales) made his first progress into Cheshire to visit his lands and castles.

By the vicissitudes of the struggle with Simon de Montfort, the earldom and its appendages were wrested from Prince Edward in 1264, and Beeston was garrisoned by the partizans of that rebellious noble. On the news of Prince Edward's escape from Hereford in 1265, his Cheshire adherents took arms, and possessed themselves of this important stronghold on the behalf of their sovereign. This event took place on the Sunday after the prince's escape; and the battle of Evesham being fought on the 11th of the nones of May following," Edward instantly marched to Beeston, where his enemies, Lucas de Sancy, justice of Cheshire, and Simon, abbot of St. Werburgh, surrendered, and threw themselves on his mercy, on the vigil of the feast of the Assumption." According to Stow and a MS. chronicler, Richard II. selected Beeston for the custody of his treasure and jewels, to the immense amount of 200,000 marks,

"December 13.-A little before day, Captain Sandford (a zealous royalist), who came out of Ireland with eight of his firelocks, crept up the steep hill of Beeston Castle, and got into the upper ward, and took possession there. It must be done by treachery, for the place was most impregnable. Captain Steel, who kept it for the parliament, was accused, and suffered for it."

The Royalists were suffered to maintain possession of the castle, with little molestation, to the 20th of October, 1644, when "the council of war at Nantwich, hearing that the enemy at Beeston were in want of fuel and other necessaries, layed strong siege to it." This siege continued to the 17th of March following, when Prince Maurice and Prince Rupert came, with a great force, and relieved the castle.

"1645, April. The parliament again placed forces round Beeston Castle, where they began to raise a brave mount with a strong ditch about it;-but news came, that the king and both the princes, with a strong army, were coming towards Chester. The parliament army marched towards Nantwich, leaving the country to the spoils of the forces in Chester and Beeston Castle."

The royal forces being defeated in September, at Rowton Heath, the siege was resumed; and on "November 16th, Beeston Castle, that had been besieged almost a year, was delivered up by Captain Valet, the governor, to Sir William Brereton. There were in it fifty-six soldiers, who, by agreement, had liberty to depart with their arms, colours flying, and drums beating, with two cart-loads of goods, and to be conveyed to Denbigh but twenty of the soldiers laid down their arms, and craved liberty to go to their own homes, which was granted. There was neither meat nor drink found in the castle, but only a piece of a turkey pie, and a live peacock and a pea hen."

Early in the next year, Beeston Castle was demolished, and the ruins have since been gradually sinking to their present state of extreme, but picturesque decay.

Poetry.

situation.

In 1460, the principality of Wales and earldom of Chester being granted to Richard, Duke of York, on his being declared heir to King Henry VI., Beeston Castle is included in the recital of manors and castles considered as appendages to the earldom.

This is the last notice of Beeston as a regular fortress; and in the course of eighty years afterwards, it is described by Leland as shattered and ruinous ; and he alludes to an ancient prophecy, that Edward VI. was to be the restorer of its former consequence. This restoration was destined to be effected under far different auspices. In the troubles of the seventeenth century, when almost every considerable mansion in Cheshire was garrisoned for king or parliament, Beeston was too important a station to be overlooked. Accordingly, in February, 1642-3, it was taken possession of by three hundred of the Parliament forces, and put into a state of military repair.

The following passages relating to the further proceedings connected with Beeston Castle are taken from the diary of Edward Burghall, schoolmaster of Banbury, an eye-witness of many of the events he describes.

is printed in Small Capitals, under the title; in Selections it is printed in Italics at the end.]

HOME.

HOME is not the land of our birth,

Nor the land of our dwelling; though either may lie Where the suns and the showers of blest Campany's sky Pour joy on the jubilant earth.

Home is not the hearth where we reign; Though the ceiling of cedar from porphyry walls Ascend o'er the tessellate floor of our halls,

Though round spread the princely domain.

In the tent, in the hut, it may be;
Mid the sands of the line, or the snows of the pole;
Or, driven by the night-howling hurricane, roll
Far, far, o'er the surge of the sea!

It is found, and found only, with one;
The loving and trusting, the trusted and loved,
Though by mountain or flood from our presence removed,
Sea, continent, climate, or zone.

It is whither, mid pleasure, we turn,

With the thought how the best of our pleasures is void,
By the dear distant angel of home unenjoyed,
For whose presence all else we would spurn.

WHEN WILD WAR'S DEADLY BLAST WAS

BLAWN.

WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn,

And gentle peace returning,
Wi' monie a sweet babe fatherless,
And monie a widow mourning;
I left the lines and tented field,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
A poor and honest sodger.

A leal, light heart was in my breast,
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder;
And for fair Scotia, hame again,
I cheery on did wander:

I thought upon the banks o' Coil,
I thought upon my Nancy,
I thought upon the witching smile
That caught my youthful fancy.

At length I reach'd the bonnie glen,
Where early life I sported;

I pass'd the mill, and trysting-thorn,
Where Nancy aft I courted:
Wha spied I but my ain dear maid
Down by her mother's dwelling!
And turn'd me round to hide the flood
That in my een was swelling.

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, "Sweet lass,
Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,

O happy, happy may he be

That's dearest to thy bossom!
My purse is light, I've far to gang,
And fain wad be thy lodger;

I've served my king and country lang,
Take pity on a sodger."

Sae wistfully she gazed on me,
And lovelier was than ever,
Quo' she, "A sodger ance I lo'ed,
Forget him shall I never;

Our humble cot, and hamely fare,
Ye freely shall partake it,
That gallant badge, the dear cockade,
Ye're welcome for the sake o't."

She gazed-she redden'd like a rose-
Syne pale like onie lily-
She sank within my arms, and cried-
"Art thou my ain dear Willie?"
"By him who made yon sun and sky-
By whom true love's regarded,

I am the man; and thus may still
True lovers be rewarded!

"The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,
And find thee still true-hearted;
Though poor in gear, we're rich in love,
'And mair, we'se ne'er be parted."
Quo' she, "My grandsire left me gowd,
A mailen plenish'd fairly;
And come, my faithfu' sodger lad,
Thou'rt welcome to it dearly!"

For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
The farmer ploughs the manor;
But glory is the sodger's prize,

The sodger's wealth is honour!
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,
Nor count him as a stranger;
Remember, he's his country's stay
In day and hour of danger.
BURNS.

June 14th.-Charles Montague came into my rooms from lecture as usual-gave me a pressing invitation to spend the long with him. He's a good fellow; but it's very queer that we should be so thick together as we are; for if Harry Freeman knows anything of his own dear self, no two bodies in England and Wales can be greater opposites than he and Charles Montague. He is taciturn, reserved, cynical (so the good people say); I'm a great talker, incautious, and all the rest of it. He is reason and judgment from head to foot; I am a dreamer, visionary, ever taking constitutionals2 in the ideal, and tumbling into ditches, &c. because I will go across country. Is it that nature teaches us that we are all dependent? that we need others to make unity of our happiness? that, in fact, we are like cog-wheels, pushing each other along by filling up mutual voids? Depend upon it, O philosophical self, that this is the history of the half-souls which are supposed to be running about frantically after their corresponding halves.-Shall I go with Montague? Pro: a pleasant village-cozy parsonage (so he says), -the agreeable society of two young ladies-company of Montague himself. Contra relations, who are of course anxiously expecting my presence-the necessity of reading. Who would not decide (as I do) to go?

June 16th.-The day of my mother's death. Oh! what do I not remember, God forgive me!-"They rest from their labours." And so must each of us very soon. The hours of life come, and pass by with fearful rapidity. We lie down on our beds, and, when we rise up again, we find that seven or eight hours have slipt away unconsciously. Will it not be the same, at the last lying down? In the summer she went away; in the winter my father followed. What will they say about me when we meet again? Kept the day in solitude. Richter says, "Solitude on one's birthday is the only worthy personal celebration that a man, thinking calmly and tenderly on the path behind him, and measuring seriously that before him, can permit himself. I hate also all business or pleasurable activity on the first day of the year. Frail and feeble man should look upon such elevations in time, like the spider, for props to which he fastens the thread of a new web. All weighty things are done in solitude, that is, without society.' With how much greater truth does all this apply to the death-day of a parent! Oh! thou sorrowful, reproving, pensive, holy past, by purifying the present, woo to me a bright, joyous, summer-breathing future.

June 18th.-Busy packing-do not do much myself; for what is the use of a scout if he cannot do this for one? And I'm sure he pays himself well enough for his trouble. Determined not to wait for commemoration, but shall be off to Dorsetshire at once with C. M. He is a noble fellow-went into his rooms this morning, and there he was with a poor old woman tête-à-tête-packs her off in a moment, before she could get out more than two "Heaven bless you's," and turns to me, and says, "Freeman, that woman's a fool. Her husband is ill in an hospital, a brute of a fellow, and she starves self and brat to send him in tea, sugar, tobacco, &c. It's more than I'd do. 'Every body for himself,' say I. It's all humbug. I don't believe in that sort of thing." But I saw a tear in the corner of his eye while he told the

(1) The vacation in the summer.
(2) An Oxford walk into the country.

(3) An Oxford servant.