a painful accumulation of particulars.  For all this she consulted Leland’s “Collectanea,” Warton’s “History of English Poetry,” the “Household Book of Edward IV.,” Pegge’s “Dissertation on the Obsolete Office of Esquire of the King’s Body,” the publications of the Society of Antiquaries and similar authorities, with results that are infinitely tedious.  Walter Scott’s archaeology is not always correct, nor his learning always lightly borne; but, upon the whole, he had the art to make his cumbrous materials contributory to his story rather than obstructive of it.

In these two novels we meet again all the familiar apparatus of secret trap-doors, sliding panels, spiral staircases in the thickness of the walls, subterranean vaults conducting to a neighboring priory or a cavern in the forest, ranges of deserted apartments where the moon looks in through mullioned casements, ruinous turrets around which the night winds moan and howl.  Here, too, once more are the wicked uncle who seizes upon the estates of his deceased brother’s wife, and keeps her and her daughter shut up in his dungeon for the somewhat long period of eighteen years; the heroine who touches her lute and sings in pensive mood, till the notes steal to the ear of the young earl imprisoned in the adjacent tower; the maiden who is carried off on horseback by bandits, till her shrieks bring ready aid; the peasant lad who turns out to be the baron’s heir.  “His surprise was great when the baroness, reviving, fixed her eyes mournfully upon him and asked him to uncover his arm.”  Alas! the surprise is not shared by the reader, when “’I have indeed found my long-lost child:  that strawberry,’"[27] etc., etc.  “Gaston de Blondville” has a ghost—­not explained away in the end according to Mrs. Radcliffe’s custom.  It is the spirit of Reginald de Folville, Knight Hospitaller of St. John, murdered in the Forest of Arden by Gaston de Blondville and the prior of St. Mary’s.  He is a most robust apparition, and is by no means content with revisiting the glimpses of the moon, but goes in and out at all hours of the day, and so often as to become somewhat of a bore.  He ultimately destroys both first and second murderer:  one in his cell, the other in open tournament, where his exploits as a mysterious knight in black armor may have given Scott a hint for his black knight at the lists of Ashby-de-la-Zouche in “Ivanhoe” (1819).  His final appearance is in the chamber of the king, with whom he holds quite a long conversation.  “The worm is my sister,” he says:  “the mist of death is on me.  My bed is in darkness.  The prisoner is innocent.  The prior of St. Mary’s is gone to his account.  Be warned.”  It is not explained why Mrs. Radcliffe refrained from publishing this last romance of hers.  Perhaps she recognized that it was belated and that the time for that sort of thing had gone by.  By 1802 Lewis’ “Monk” was in print, as well as several translations from German romances; Scott’s early ballads were