his lantern, deposited in an out-of-the-way cupboard, that had escaped
notice, he quickly departed.

He was once more within the churchyard; once more upon that awful stage
whereon he had chosen to enact, for a long season, his late fantastical
character; and he gazed upon the church tower, glistening in the
moonshine, the green and undulating hillocks, the "chequered
cross-sticks," the clustered headstones, and the black and portentous
yew-trees, as upon "old familiar faces." He mused, for a few moments,
upon the scene, apparently with deep interest. He then walked beneath
the shadows of one of the yews, chanting an odd stanza or so of one of
his wild staves, wrapped the while, it would seem, in affectionate
contemplation of the subject-matter of his song:

THE CHURCHYARD YEW

---- Metuendaque succo
Taxus.

STATIUS.

A noxious tree is the churchyard yew,
As if from the dead its sap it drew;
Dark are its branches, and dismal to see,
Like plumes at Death's latest solemnity.
Spectral and jagged, and black as the wings
Which some spirit of ill o'er a sepulchre flings:
Oh! a terrible tree is the churchyard yew;
Like it is nothing so grimly to view.

Yet this baleful tree hath a core so sound,
Can nought so tough in the grove be found;
From it were fashioned brave English bows,
The boast of our isle, and the dread of its foes.
For our sturdy sires cut their stoutest staves
From the branch that hung o'er their fathers' graves;
And though it be dreary and dismal to view,
Staunch at the heart is the churchyard yew.

His ditty concluded, Alan entered the churchyard, taking care to leave
the door slightly ajar, in order to facilitate his grandson's entrance.
For an instant he lingered in the chancel. The yellow moonlight fell
upon the monuments of his race; and, directed by the instinct of hate,
Alan's eye rested upon the gilded entablature of his perfidious brother,
Reginald, and, muttering curses, "not loud but deep," he passed on.
Having lighted his lantern in no tranquil mood, he descended into the
vault, observing a similar caution with respect to the portal of the
cemetery, which he left partially unclosed, with the key in the lock.
Here he resolved to abide Luke's coming. The reader knows what
probability there was of his expectations being realized.

For a whil