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Ambrose,' she exclaimed "Ambrose, who has been

into the Chapel ? can you explain this mystery?"

THE

Mysterious Freebooter ;

OR, THE

DAYS OF QUEEN BESS.

A ROMANCE.

BY

FRANCIS LATHOM,

AUTHOR OF MEN AND MANNERS, MYSTERY, ROMANCE OF THE
HEBRIDES, LONDON, &c.

In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire,

With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales

Of woful ages long ago betid.-

-SHAKSPEARE.

A NEW EDITION,`

FOUR VOLUMES IN ONE.

LONDON:

PUBLISHED BY JAQUES & WRIGHT, 13, PATERNOSTER ROW;

SOLD ALSO BY G. VIRTUE, 26, IVY LANE;

BATH STREET, BRISTOL; AND ST. VINCENT STREET, LIVERPOOL,

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IT was during the hostile period when the continued inroads of the borderers, whose course was marked with death and devastation, called for the utmost vigilance of the government, and rendered the fortifying and garrisoning of the northern castles an object of the greatest importance, that lord William, baron de Mowbray, received from his sovereign, queen Elizabeth, the commission of warden of the borders, appointed to controul and chastise the moss-troopers, whose ravages had risen to so alarming a height, as to attract the particular notice of those in power.

Placed in this dangerous but honourable situation, he conceived it his indispensable duty to execute the arduous employment entrusted to him with the greatest promptitude. Accordingly, with all alac

rity, he strengthened his residence by every means in his power; he erected a double wall, cut trenches, and surrounded the whole by a deep moat, over which a drawbridge led to a massy iron-cased gate, and huge portcullis; around the roof were erected battlements planted with cannon; and over these a garrison of three hundred men, selected from his vassals, and trained by himself to arms, were appointed to do duty.

The office upon which lord William had now entered accorded but ill with those dreams of family comfort in which he had hoped to pass the evening of his days; but light was his repugnance to the bloody business of the field of battle, when compared with the heart of his motherless daughter, the beauteous and gentle Rosalind, which sickened in her breast as she dwelt in imagination on the scenes of blood and rapine to which she must now unavoidably become a witness.

Lord William had scarcely completed his fortifications, ere he was called upon, by the voice of danger, to an exertion of the greatest fortitude.

The clouds of evening were just closing in the parting day, when the sentinel at the drawbridge dispatched one of his comrades to the baron, with information that a moss-trooper, sinking under fatigue and famine, was lying at the foot of the bridge, and imploring, in terms of the most vehement entreaty, to be permitted to see lord William, whose life, he said, was in imminent danger.

Every moss-trooper was of course the decided

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