THE FLITCH OF BACON: OR, THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW. A TALE OF ENGLISH HOME. PART III.-THE LORD OF THE MANORA OF LITTLE DUNMOW. CHAPS. I. TO IV. BY THE EDITOR FALCONRY

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A ROYAL WHIM.

FROM THE GERMAN OF WILHELM MEINHOLD 300

"ALL SERENE " BY J. E. CARPENTER

NEW ARCTIC EXPEDITIONS

THE NEW NORMAN CONQUEST; OR, HOW PAUL BRIOCHE MEANT
TO HAVE PITCHED INTO US. BY DUDLEY COSTELLO
THE SEQUEL TO "A WORD TO ENGLAND"

NEW DISCOVERIES IN ANCIENT ART

WHAT THEY SAY IN PARIS. BY THE CHEVALIER ALCIBIADE
DE LA BLAGUE

ATALA AND CHACTAS.

SOMETHING OF Baltimore, WashiNGTON, THE CHESAPEAKE, AND
POTOMAC. BY J. W. HENGISTON, ESQ.

LITERARY LEAFLETS. BY SIR NATHANIEL. No. VI.
WILLIAM HAMILTON: "DISCUSSIONS ON PHILOSOPHY"

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IN THE

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

THE FLITCH

FLITCH OF BACON:

OR,

The Custom of Dunmow.

BY W. HARRISON AINSWORTH, ESQ.

This Tale of English Home was commenced in the JANUARY NUMBER of the NEW MONTHLY, and will be continued regularly until completion.

JANUARY.

PART THE FIRST.-THE OLD INN AT DUNMOw.-Chap. I. From which it may be inferred that Perseverance in a Good Cause will meet its Reward. II. How Jonas Nettlebed counted his Chickens before they were hatched. III. Of the Strange Guest who arrived at the Flitch. IV. How Abel Roper, the Steward, obtained an insight into the Old Gentleman's breast. V. Showing that Frank Woodbine should have Looked before he Leaped. VI. The Jury of Bachelors and Maidens; and what they did.

FEBRUARY.

PART THE SECOND. THE GAMEKEEPER'S COTTAGE.— Chap. I. How Dr. Plot visited the Old Priory Church of Dunmow. II. A Peep at the Gamekeeper's Wife. III. Dr. Plot gives Reasons for his Disbelief in Conjugal Felicity; and relates the Particulars of an Unfortunate Marriage. IV. The Pigeon and the Rook.

MORNING POST.

"MR. HARRISON AINSWORTH'S new story, entitled the 'Flitch of Bacon; or, the Custom of Dunmow,' if conducted to its close with the same spirit that has so agreeably signalised its opening, will do more for the literary reputation of its author than any work he has yet essayed. It is dramatic in incident, highly diversified in character, and thoroughly English in sentiment. If MR. AINSWORTH will only continue as he has begun, we shall have to thank him for as pleasant a story as we have read for many a day.”

SUN.

"We have reason now to congratulate the readers of the New Monthly, not only upon the return of MR. AINSWORTH to them in bis capacity as a Story-teller,' but also upon his beginning once more for their pleasure to interlard his romance with Ballads like those which some time back imparted so much zest to Crichton,' and to' Rookwood."

LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

THE FLITCH OF BACON:

OR,

THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW.

A TALE OF ENGLISH HOME.*

BY THE EDITOR.

The Bacon was not set for them I trow,

That some men have in Essex at Dunmow.

CHAUCER. Wife of Bath's Prologue.

PART THE THIRD.

The Lord of the Manor of Little Dunmow.

I.

IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT THERE MAY BE MORE WAYS THAN ONE OUT OF A CELLAR; ANd more RoomS, THAN ARE GENERALLY SUSPECTED, IN AN OLD HOUSE.

FRANK WOODBINE was locked up in the cellar. Now to see what he did there.

That we know.

Not expecting his confinement to be of very long duration, since Nelly had promised to liberate him as soon as the coast was clear, Frank took it quietly enough at first, amusing himself by thinking how cleverly the bailiffs had been tricked; but when a long interval of time had elapsed: and it seemed much longer to him than it really was: he began to find the detention exceedingly irksome, and made several futile attempts to force open the door.

Another hour of restraint increased his impatience to such a degree, that unable to rest inactive, he began to grope about the place in every direction to ascertain if, by possibility, any other mode of egress existed. Though he moved as carefully as he could in the dark, he managed to upset a good many bottles, and more than once came in contact with a mouldy old beer-cask; but at length, he contrived to hit upon the entrance to the inner vaults, and passing through it, went on, with even greater

NOTICE.-The Author reserves the copyright of this Tale in France, and the right of publishing a French Translation of the work; as provided by the Treaty. March-VOL. XCVII. NO. CCCLXXXVII.

T

caution than before; becoming sensible from the increased dampness of the atmosphere, and the broken condition of the floor, together with the litter scattered about, that he had got into some neglected depository of rubbish, where there might be danger of a serious fall. Happily, no such accident occurred to him.

A second doorway ensued, and a second vault, full of rubbish like the first. Here he found a ladder lying on the ground, and placed-as he luckily discovered in time-across the mouth of a deep, circular hole : an old well it might be, to judge from the dampness of the brickwork: into which he had a narrow escape of being precipitated, headlong.

Passing by this dangerous abyss with a shudder at the risk he had run, he entered a third vault terminated by a short flight of stone steps, down which he descended, wondering where they would land him. When at the bottom, his further progress was impeded by a door. It was locked; but being in no mood to be stopped, and the lock chancing to be on the side next him, he took up a brick from the loose pavement, and knocked off the rusty fastening with a blow.

No further hindrance then. A narrow passage presented itself; circuitous, and gradually rising as he advanced along it. He was delighted to find the air become fresher, and the obscurity decrease with each step he took, until at last, the full light of the moon burst upon him, shining down from a grated aperture in the walls. Unluckily, this aperture was out of reach; but even if accessible, the closeness and strength of the bars rendered escape by it wholly impracticable.

Further on, a blank wall opposed him. The passage had evidently communicated with some chamber beyond, but the doorway had been blocked up, as was shown by the comparative freshness of the brickwork. To all appearance, he had reached the end of his course. All this trouble had been taken, all this risk run, for nothing.

But he would not go back till he had looked carefully round. Trapdoors and secret passages he knew were to be found in many old houses. Might not similar contrivances exist here? Entertaining the conviction that they might, he examined the walls, and sounded the brickwork; but with no satisfactory result.

At last, when just giving up the search, he chanced upon a small stone let into the wall, with the figure V. carved upon it.

What could it mean? There was no corresponding mark near it that he could detect; and yet the figure must have some significance.

He counted five yards, and they brought him exactly to the blockedup doorway. Returning to the starting-point, he took the like number of steps in the opposite direction, and being still within the scope of the moon's rays, clearly perceived the figure IV. cut on the wall. Four steps more brought him to III.; three to II.; and though the next movement almost involved him in gloom, he could trace with his finger, upon a piece of stone, the number I.

Here he halted.

The walls, on examination, proved to be of hard brickwork. The floor sounded firm beneath his tread, and returned no hollow reverberation. Looking upwards, he could just distinguish, in the partial obscurity, a chain dangling from the roof.

The chain seemed within reach, and springing aloft, he succeeded in

دي

grasping it, and in maintaining his hold. But the attempt had nearly proved his destruction; for his weight brought down a heavy board to which the iron links were attached, and the edge of the wood striking him in its fall, and grazing one of his temples, laid him prostrate, bleeding, and senseless.

How long he remained in this state he knew not; but when he recovered, his limbs felt stiff, and he could only move them at first with considerable difficulty. His hair and face were covered with coagulated blood. A wonder he had not been killed.

Serious, however, as might have been the accident, it rendered him an important service. The fall of the board had left a square opening in the roof, through which he could distinguish some portion of a chamber illumined by the moon. From the bolts and rings as well as the rusty chain attached to it, it was evident the board had been used as a trapdoor.

How to attain the room above was now the question? He was not long in solving it. Bethinking him of the ladder he had met with in the vaults, he resolved to fetch it. The plan was no sooner conceived than executed; and on application, the ladder being found to reach the square hole above, it was soon securely planted, and mounting the steps with eagerness, he effected an entrance near the fireplace of a large deserted-looking chamber.

Deserted, indeed.

No human footstep, it would seem, had invaded it for many and many a year. Whether it was equally avoided by members of the Invisible World, was not so clear. It seemed especially adapted to them, and a ghostly atmosphere pervaded the place. The room had once been magnificently decorated; but time and neglect had despoiled it of its splendour. The lofty windows were boarded up, but some of the planks having given way from the effects of weather, the moonlight streamed in through the interstices. The walls were panelled, and the wainscots had been covered with rich tapestry, but the arras was mildewed, stained, and rotten, as were the window-curtains, and hung down in strips and tatters. The mirrors in their richly gilt and curiouslycarved frames were dull and tarnished. The moulded ceiling was cracked and blistered, and festooned with cobwebs. The furniture was of an antique and cumbrous form, but its gilt leather and silken coverings were sullied and motheaten. The portraits had nearly all perished, and the canvas on which several had been painted, had dropped from their frames.

Two only, from some unaccountable reason, remained in a tolerable state of preservation. Both of these were full-length portraits, admirably painted, and almost lifelike in character and expression. One was the likeness of a man, between forty and fifty, habited in a rich court dress of George the First's time; the other that of an exquisitely beautiful woman, some twenty years younger, and equally richly attired in robes of the same period. Yet in spite of the lady's beauty, there were traces of sadness in her looks. Her splendid garb seemed to hide an anxious heart, and the smile upon her sundered lips had a touch of melancholy in it. She was of a noble presence, stately figure, and majestic carriage, with a full person, rounded arms, and fine shoulders.