John Deane of Nottingham: Historic Adventures by Land and Sea. William Henry Giles Kingston

her seat in the saddle. “I must have these scapegraces brought up for punishment before the magistrates to-morrow; such proceedings ought not to take place in a well-ordered town.”

      The young man thus addressed drew himself up with a somewhat haughty air, as he replied, “I am glad to have rendered the young lady a service, sir, and require no reward for doing so; and as for punishing those fellows, I would rather have the opportunity of drubbing a few of them with my fists for worrying poor old Dame Pitt’s lame cow, than see them sent to prison for their freak. It may be all very well for them to bait their cattle when they want tender meat, but they had no business to treat that poor animal in the way they did; and I told them so when they began, and promised them I would put a stop to it.”

      “You are a brave lad,” said Mr. Harwood, looking at the speaker approvingly. “May I ask your name?”

      “I am called Jack Deane, sir,” answered the young man, “at your service. I belong to Nottingham, and know every one of those apprentice-lads, and do not wish to bring them into trouble; but I will give the ringleaders as sound a thrashing as they ever had in their lives before long, for their conduct this day.”

      “Well, well! I suppose we must leave you to settle the matter in your own way,” said Mr. Harwood; “but if your name is Jack Deane, I conclude that you are the younger son of my friend Mr. Jasper Deane, to whose house my daughter and I are now bending our way.”

      “Yes, sir, the house of my father, Mr. Deane, is situated to the south there, on the farther side of the market-place, and with your leave, sir, I will accompany you and your daughter thither, after which I must be allowed to go in search of Widow Pitt’s cow, and carry the animal back to her. I shall have time to do that and give a few of the apprentices a drubbing before dinner-time.”

      Saying this, Jack Deane, putting his arms again into the sleeves of his coat, adjusted his dress, which had been somewhat disordered by the scuffle; then placing his hand on the reins of Miss Harwood’s palfrey, he walked by her side towards the house at which he had pointed.

      “Well, well! I must leave you to keep order in the town, Master Deane,” said Mr. Harwood, laughing; “when there is so good a guardian of the peace as you appear to be, it would be useless for me to interfere; and I would not stop you from restoring the cow to the poor widow. At the same time, I may suggest that it might be as well to let alone the drubbing of the apprentices till a more convenient season, or you may get somewhat overheated and fatigued before your appearance at the dinner-table.”

      “Oh, that will be nothing, sir!” answered Jack, clutching his stout cudgel; “though to be sure the chances are that they will keep out of my way. When they get cool they will think better of it, before they will wish to encounter me. I only hope Miss Harwood’s palfrey has not suffered, or her habit either; I am sure the poor animal did not wish to do her harm.”

      “Oh, no! thanks to you, Mr. Deane, both my horse and I have escaped harm,” said Alethea, looking at the young man with a kind smile.

      On reaching the door of Mr. Deane’s house, Jack held the young lady’s bridle while she dismounted, and then insisted on taking her horse and her father’s round to the stables while they entered the house. Having unsaddled the steeds, and given them some corn and hay, he hurried off to fulfil his intention of restoring Dame Pitt’s cow to her; but he was less successful in executing his purpose of thrashing the apprentices, in consequence, as he expected would be the case, of their judiciously keeping out of his way; when, failing in his efforts to discover them, he returned home, feeling that he might defer the execution of his purpose to another opportunity, should he on further consideration deem it necessary.

Chapter Two.

       Table of Contents

      Dinner at Mr. Deane’s in Nottingham—Jack Deane announces the Profession he has chosen.

      As the hour of dinner approached, the expected guests began to arrive at the hall-door of Mr. Deane’s substantial mansion in the market-place. With the exception of Mr. Harwood and one or two others, they were relations of the family, or connected in some way or other. Mrs. Deane received them in a cordial and hearty manner, showing, however, that she entertained a becoming sense of her own importance. The Squire and Alethea were evidently, from the style of their reception, amongst the most honoured. The lady of the mansion wore a tower of fine Flemish lace on her head, to which that on her gown, of handsome paduasoy, exactly corresponded; and her general appearance was matronly and dignified. Behind her, courtesying and smiling to the guests as they approached, stood two well-grown unmistakably English girls, their dresses ornamented with cherry-coloured ribbons, just then in fashion: the eldest, Catherine, or Kate, as she was called, a brunette, tall and slight, with a somewhat grave and retiring manner, and far more refined than her rosy-cheeked, merry-looking younger sister Polly, who gave promise of some day growing into the goodly proportions of her mother. Mr. Deane, with full wig, lace coat, and sword by his side, stood in the old oak hall, accompanied by his son Jasper, ready to hand the ladies from their sedan-chairs as they were brought into the hall. The last to arrive, who was received with all due honour, was a Dr. Nathaniel Deane, a cousin of Mr. Deane’s, the only physician, and one of the greatest men, in Nottingham. Jack was the last to enter the house, and had but little time to slip into his room, and put on his grey dress suit, before dinner was announced. For a few minutes he was seen standing behind the door, unwilling to enter and go through the ordeal of paying his respects to the assembled guests, little more of him being observable besides a broad shoulder and a well-turned leg, with a red clock to his grey stocking. Cousin Nat—for so Mr. Nathaniel Deane was called by his relatives—soon however spied him out, and though at that moment tapping his jewelled snuff-box preparatory to offering it to Mrs. Bethia Harcourt, Mrs. Deane’s maiden aunt, he contrived directly afterwards to find himself close to Jack, and to shake hands cordially with the young man, for whom he evidently had an especial regard.

      “Well, Jack, what scrape have you last got into, or out of rather, I should say?” said Cousin Nat, “for I am told it is seldom you have not something of the sort on hand. However, you do not look the worse for that or for your studies either, boy, though I should be glad to hear that you had determined to follow some steady pursuit, instead of running your head into other people’s quarrels, without any benefit to yourself.”

      “That is the very thing I have been thinking of,” answered Jack, as he returned his respected cousin’s greeting, “but I have no fancy for sitting at a desk, nor for any other indoor work. Jasper is more suited for that than I am.”

      He glanced as he spoke towards the slight figure of his brother, who presented a considerable contrast to himself. The elder had handsome features, with a somewhat sickly hue in his countenance, such as is often produced by study and thought. His manner was refined, and the expression of his countenance denoted an amiable and gentle disposition.

      “We will not attempt to make an M.D. of you, at all events,” answered Cousin Nat. “Perhaps you would rather take to breaking men’s bones than attempting to cure them of their ailments, as I try to do, and as your brother Jasper hopes to do also.”

      “Not especially,” answered Jack: “I should like to see the world, but I have not a fancy for knocking men on the head, and could never understand the amusement some people find in it; but I have no objection to stand up and defend my own if I am attacked, or to draw my sword in the defence of a friend or a right cause.”

      Dr. Nathaniel smiled at his young kinsman’s remark. “You will not have to wait long then, lad, before you find sufficient excuse for drawing your sword, and fighting away with as hearty good-will as any of old Noll’s Ironsides ever did.”

      Just at this juncture dinner was announced, and the guests being marshalled according to the strictest rules of precedence, took their places round the well-covered table, on which the summer’s sun, flaring through the three tall windows, lighted up the goodly array of silver tankards and pewter dishes,