CRAVEN DERBY; OR. THE LORDSHIP BY TENURE. "Oft in the stilly night, 'Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light, Of other days around me: The smiles and tears, Of boyhood years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dim'd and gone, The cheerful hearts since broken. Thus in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light, Moore. "HERE, then, is all that remains of the ancient baronial castle, and of the once hospitable and splendid halls of our noble ancestors," said Craven Derby, mournfully to himself, as he stood upon a small portion which remained firm of the battlement of the B western tower of the outer wall of Derby Castle, gazing with intense interest and feeling upon the various surrounding heaps of ruins of stone, bricks, flints, and mortar as hard as flint, which had fallen from decay and neglect from time to time, and were covered with the herbage of age-weeds, moss, long rank grass, ivy, and thistles. "Yet, art thou in my eyes, respectable and imposing in all thy ruins, for thou art monumental of the fall and the misfortunes of our house ;-and I could weep over thee! Disturb them not, ye strangers, but let them crumble and waste away of themselves, if fallen greatness fails not to merit ye're respect and sympathy. These rude fragments, once, in architectural order and beauty, formed a princely castle of considerable strength and importance. In its prime it was the immortal gift of the renowned King Richard," Cœur de Lion," to the great founder of our family, whose descendants have since held it through a succession of many centuries. But with its own glory and pride have passed away the glory and the pride-no-not the pride, for that is still seated here," placing his hand emphatically upon his heart, "in all its pristine fireof our family name, and it is meet that, in thy present condition, thou should'st be owned, as thou art, by the stranger. I do remember me that in my youth, an aged peasant a servant of my grandsire's, pensioned by my father-was wont to fill my tender and ready ears with wondrous tales of yore, touching the fame and exploits of our first notable and great ancestor, which have been handed down from sire to son, time out of mind, till, I should suppose, their original consistency must have lost much in the progress of years, and been greatly departed from, both from the bad memory of some, and the inventive memory of others of the detailers; so that, most probably, but few characteristics of the olden tales mark. the stories which go current in modern times. The family legends, in fact, are in ruins with the castle, by the tenure of which my forefathers derived their title, till-but let me not think on it-now, alas! that title is extinct. That old man, I recollect, gloried in his relation of these traditions, and was more consistent than all the rest who repeated them. I wonder if he yet lives; I should really like to hear him tell them over again, for they are now but faint upon my memory. I should rejoice to see him again; I always felt a great regard for the poor old man, more from his extraordinary attachment to our race than that he invariably evinced for myself.—The castle keep, I see, still proudly stands," "Yez, yez, Maizter Craven," said a hearty old man who had imperceptibly crept close up to his side, and now interrupted his further cogitations; and then, as if aware of his thoughts, or what is more likely, judging their nature from the lively glance of his eyes to the castle-keep, which alone of all the castle-and that only in its outward form-remained somewhat in a perfect state, he continued lispingly, but gaily,— "When the castle-keep in ruin falls, But while it towers towards the skies, Craven Derby, with a pleasing surprise, incontinently turned round, when he beheld in the old man the identical ancient servant of his family, who he had been thinking of but the moment before. He was leaning with both hands upon a white staff, and bending a little forward with age. He was cleanly dressed, and in the costume of the higher order of peasantry. A light drab coat with large ivory buttons, yellow stuff waistcoat, corderoy small-clothes, blue stockings, and a coarse, but snow-white shirt, around the neck of which an India silk handkerchief was tied in a single knot, and the ends hung loosely over the breast. A pair of shoes, fastened over the instep with a pair of very large antiquely-embossed silver buckles, and a broad-brimmed hat, with a small round crown, completed the attire of "old Father Feldfair," as the villagers called him. His grey fleecy hair fell over his shoulders, and his cheeks were of a russet brown, richly flushed |