day. It was that of an old, a very old,
woman, of the peasant class; one who must
have known many a long year of labour,
and probably of privation and poverty,
but who now rested, after all her toils
and all her struggles, better cared for in
death, than she had ever been in life.
Kind hands had arrayed her lovingly; a
nosegay of bright artificial roses lay upon
her breast; and her shrivelled palms were
clasped upon a crucifix of ivory. All this
we saw in a rapid glance, and, hastening
instinctively to the further side of the bier,
placed its protection between us and our
pursuer. One moment later, his hideous
form filled up the little chapel door. All
breathless and panting, as if recovering
from some recent fall or stumble, he
hurried in, and, staring wildly round in
search of the objects of his mad pursuit,
saw, not the Living, but the Dead.

The change in him was instantaneous.
As the decently composed form and the
placid eyelids of the aged woman met his
gaze, a soothing influence seemed to fall
upon his troubled spirit. Overcome, perhaps,
by some faintly–stirred up recollection
of earlier days when the light of
reason may yet have flickered within him;
perhaps, by some superstitious awe of which
his crazed nature may yet have been susceptible,
the Crétin sank slowly down
upon his knees, and, hanging his huge
head upon his breast, uttered some inarticulate
sounds as if in an attempt at
prayer. As he did this, we stole softly
from within the shadow of the bier, and so
round to an opposite door to that by which
he had entered the chapel, and which also
opened on the forest. It was fortunately
unlocked, and through it we passed trembling,
into the now darkening wood. Once
there, we regained our former path, and
ran swiftly down the hill, out upon the
great high road, up the steps, and along
the covered bridge (the shadows in the
nooks and angles of which were now growing
long and dark), and hailed with something
like rapture the twinkling of the
town lights beginning to start forth fitfully,
now here, now there, now in this
lattice window, now in that, and giving
a blessed sense of companionship, and
help. Heaven be praised, we needed it no
longer. All was still and quiet behind
us. The Crétin had remained with the
Dead; and the Living reached their home
in safety.

"Lord in Heaven! young ladies! What
an escape you have had, in not meeting
him at all events!" exclaimed our host of
the "Cheval Blanc," as, before rushing
up–stairs, we told him our adventure in a
few breathless words. "Why, he runs
at folks like a bull! Many's the whole
family he would have gored if he had had
but the horns! But this shall be his last
performance! An innocent, forsooth, as
the old women call him! I will go myself
to–morrow, and head a petition to have him
sent to an asylum, where he may run and
leap for the rest of his days. And then
you see, dear young ladies, why if he had
destroyed but one of you mark my words,
but one of you! it would have been enough
to scare travellers from our good town for
ever so long, and can we afford to lose the
English traveller, we poor Swiss? Lord in
Heaven, what a merciful escape!"

WORSE THAN BEVERLEY.

BRIDGWATER holds, in the county of
Somerset, a position analogous to that
occupied in Yorkshire by the town of Beverley,
on whose political history we have
already dwelt.* If there be any difference
between them, Bridgwater is a shade more
corrupt, a trifle blacker, than Beverley. It
is difficult to award the palm of corruption,
but Bridgwater has one advantage. Its inhabitants
got larger sums of money for their
votes than the Yorkshiremen could obtain.

The twenty–sixth year of King Edward
the First had the honour of first giving
two members to Bridgwater. The
Commissioners express their conviction that
since the year 1800, at least, no election
has ever taken place in the town except
under the direct influence of bribery in all
its forms. The constituency is of a size
very convenient for the professor of corrupt
practices, numbering some fifteen
hundred. Of these at least three–fourths
have been in the constant habit of accepting
bribes. Of the remainder, by far the largest
part are addicted to the giving or negotiating
of bribes. And, as is indeed commonly
found to be the case in your
thoroughly corrupt borough, there is no
difference between the rival political parties.
Your Liberal bribes, treats, coerces, intimidates,
as freely and as unblushingly as
your Conservative. We have seen that
this was the case at Beverley, and at Bridgwater
the same rule applies. Furthermore,
again as at Beverley, rank and station are

* See ALL THE YEAR ROUND, New Series, vol. iii,
p. 441.