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of our journey, and
though a distance of thirty-three miles, we considered ourselves amply
requited by the pensive interest of the scene and its crowded
associations. In our childhood we had been accustomed to clamber its
ruins and tottering staircases with delight, not to say triumph; heedless
as we then were of the historical interest attached to them. After a lapse
of a score and ---- years, the whole scene had become doubly attractive.
A new road had been formed from East Grinstead to Forest Row, from
which a pleasant lane wound off to Brambletye. We are at a loss to
describe our emotions as we approached the ruin. It was altogether a
little struggle of human suffering. Within two hundred years the

mansion had been erected, and by turns became the seat of baronial
splendour and of civil feuds,--of the best and basest feelings of
mankind;--the loyalty and hospitality of cavaliers; the fanatic outrages
of Roundheads; and ultimately of wanton desolation! The gate through
which Colonel Lilburne and his men entered, was blocked up with a
hurdle; and the yard where his forces were marshalled was covered
with high flourishing grass; the towers had almost become mere shells,
but the vaulted passages, once stored with luxuries and weapons, still
retained much of their original freshness. What a contrast did these few
wrecks of turbulent times present with the peaceful scene by which
they were surrounded, viz. a farm and two water-mills--on one side
displaying the stormy conflict of man's passion and petty
desolation--and on the other, the humble attributes of cheerful industry.
We strove to repress our feelings as we entered the principal porch,
where by an assemblage of names of visiters scribbled on the walls, and
not unknown to us, we learnt that, we were not the first to sympathize
with the fate of Brambletye!
Within these few years, through a sort of barbarous disregard for their
associations, the lodge and the greater part of the wall represented in
our engraving, has been pulled down! and the moated house has lately
shared the same fate--for the sake of their materials--cupidity in which
we rejoiced to hear the destroyers were disappointed--their intrinsic
worth not being equal to the labour of removing them: the work of
destruction would, however, have extended to the whole of the ruins
had not some guardian hand interfered. It will be seen that the moated
house was furnished with a ponderous drawbridge and other fortifying
resources; from the licentious character of its founders it was
consequently haunted many years before its removal.
In East Grinstead we learned that the Comptons were a noble family,
and traditions of their hospitality are current amongst the oldest
inhabitants of that town.[1]
[1] For the loan of the drawing (made in 1780), whence the first
engraving is copied, we are indebted to the kindness of a gentleman of
East Grinstead; and for the sketch of the latter to an affectionate
relative.
* * * * *
BATTLE HYMN.

_Imitated from the German of Theodore Korner._[2]
(For the Mirror.)
Father, in mercy hear A youthful warrior's prayer. Thundering cannons
are roaring around me: Carnage and death, and destruction surround me;
God of eternal power. Guide me in this dread hour! Guide me in this
dread hour God of eternal power! Lead me, base Tyranny manfully
braving, Onwards to where _Freedom's_ banner is waving-- To
death--or victory; I bow to thy decree! I bow to thy decree, In death or
victory! 'Mid the loud din of the battle's commotion, When Nature
smiles, or when storms rend the ocean, Lord of the brave and just In
thee I'll put my trust! In thee I'll put my trust, Lord of the brave and just!
On thee, the fountain of goodness relying, Whatever ills may
come--living and dying I will thy praise proclaim, Blest be thy holy
name. Blest be thy holy name, I will thy praise proclaim, 'Tis not for
worldly ends we're contending, _Liberty's_ sacred cause we're
defending, And by thy might on high, We'll conquer--or we'll _die!_
We'll conquer--or we'll die By the great God on High. When life's red
stream from my bosom is swelling, And the last sigh on my faint lip is
dwelling, Then Lord in mercy hear A youthful warrior's prayer!
J.E.S.
[2] See "Select Biography," page 199, present Volume of the
MIRROR.
* * * * *
ENGLAND IN 827, 1827, 2827.
(For the Mirror.)
One thousand years have now elapsed since Egbert laid the foundation
of England's glory, by uniting the kingdoms of the heptarchy. What
was England then? what is it now? what will it be in 2827?
In 827, how confined her empire, how narrow her limits, how few her
resources; the lord and his vassals the only classes of society. In 1827,
she may