Rookwood. A Romance By W. HARRISON AINSWORTH

twitterings of the rejoicing birds; the rocks bared their bosoms to the sun, or were buried in deep-cast gloom; the shadows of the pillars and arches of the old walls of the priory were projected afar, while the rose-like ramifications of the magnificent marigold window were traced, as if by a pencil, upon the verdant tablet of the sod.

The overture was finished. With the appearance of the principal figures in this strange picture, the reader is already familiar. It remains only to give him some idea of the patrico. Imagine, then, an old superannuated goat, reared upon its hind-legs, and clad in a white sheet, disposed in folds like those of a simar about its limbs, and you will have some idea of Balthazar, the patrico. This resemblance to the animal before mentioned, was rendered the more striking by his huge hanging goat-like under-lip, his lengthy white beard, and a sort of cap, covering his head, which was ornamented with a pair of horns, such as are to be seen in Michael Angelo’s tremendous statue of Moses. Balthazar, besides being the patrico of the tribe, was its principal professor of divination, and had been the long-tried and faithful minister of Barbara Lovel, from whose secret instructions he was supposed to have derived much of his magical skill.

Placing a pair of spectacles upon his “prognosticating nose,” and unrolling a vellum skin, upon which strange characters were written, Balthazar, turning to Turpin, thus commenced, in a solemn voice:

“Thou who wouldst our brother be,

Say how we shall enter thee?

Name the name that thou wilt bear

Ere our livery thou wear.”

“I see no reason why I should alter my designation,” replied the noviciate; “but as popes change their titles on their creation, there can be no objection to a scampsman following so excellent an example. Let me be known as the Night Hawk.”

“The Night Hawk—good,” returned the hierophant, proceeding to register the name upon the parchment. “Kneel down,” continued he.

After some hesitation, Turpin complied.

“You must repeat the ‘salamon,’ or oath of our creed, after my dictation,” said the patrico; and Turpin, signifying his assent by a nod, Balthazar propounded the following abjuration:

OATH OF THE CANTING CREW

I, Crank-Cuffin, swear to be

True to this fraternity;

That I will in all obey

Rule and order of the lay.

Never blow the gab, or squeak;

Never snitch to bum or beak;

But religiously maintain

Authority of those who reign

Over Stop-Hole Abbey Green,

Be they tawny king, or queen.

In their cause alone will fight;

Think what they think, wrong or right;

Serve them truly, and no other,

And be faithful to my brother;

Suffer none, from far or near,

With their rights to interfere;

No strange Abram, ruffler crack,

Hooker of another pack,

Rogue or rascal, frater, maunderer,

Irish toyle, or other wanderer;

No dimber damber, angler, dancer,

Prig or cackler, prig of prancer;

No swigman, swaddler, clapperdudgeon

Cadge-gloak, curtal, or curmudgeon;

No whip-jack, palliard, patrico;

No jarkman, be he high or low;

No dummerar, or romany;

No member of “the Family”;

No ballad-basket, bouncing buffer,

Nor any other, will I suffer;

But stall-off now and for ever,

All outliers whatsoever:

And as I keep to the fore-gone,

So may help me Salamon!12

“So help me Salamon!” repeated Turpin, with emphasis.

“Zoroaster,” said the patrico to the upright man, “do thy part of this ceremonial.”

Zoroaster obeyed; and, taking Excalibur from the knight of Malta, bestowed a hearty thwack with the blade upon the shoulders of the kneeling highwayman, assisting him afterwards to arise.

The inauguration was complete.

“Well,” exclaimed Dick, “I’m glad it’s all over. My leg feels a little stiffish. I’m not much given to kneeling. I must dance it off”; saying which, he began to shuffle upon the boards. “I tell you what,” continued he, “most reverend patrico, that same ‘salmon’ of yours has a cursed long tail. I could scarce swallow it all, and it’s strange if it don’t give me an indigestion. As to you, sage Zory, from the dexterity with which you flourish your sword, I should say you had practised at Court. His Majesty could scarce do the thing better, when, slapping some fat alderman upon the shoulders, he bids him arise Sir Richard. And now, pals,” added he, glancing round, “as I am one of you, let’s have a boose together ere I depart, for I don’t think my stay will be long in the land of Egypt.”