THE TORN BIBLE.
CHAPTER I.
HUBERT'S DEPARTURE FROM HOME.
May thy goodness
Share with thy birthright! * * * *
* * * What heaven more will
That these may furnish and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head! Farewell.—Shakespeare.
The rural and picturesque village of Hulney, in the north of England, is a charming place; it is almost surrounded with well-wooded hills, and the little rivulets, which ever murmur down their sides, run into the limpid stream along the banks of which most of the cottages are built.
At the north end of the village, on the slope of a hill, is the church, so thickly covered with ivy that the only portions of the stonework visible are part of the ancient tower and the chancel window.
Legend and historic fact hang their mantle round this old church. History tells us that the brave, yet often cruel, Margaret, wife of Henry VI., fled there after a defeat in one of her battles; and it is also recorded that one hundred of the heroes of Flodden Field rested there on their return from the victory. Modern times have added to the interest which clings to this old place, and one thing especially which draws attention will form the subject of this story.
In that old churchyard, where the children of many generations lie side by side, there is many a touching or interesting record; but the stranger ever lingers the longest near seven white grave-stones, all bearing the name of Goodwin. Upon the one which has the most recent date is the following inscription:—"Sacred to the Memory of Hubert Goodwin, aged seventy years;" and below this a book, partly destroyed, with several of the loose leaves, is carved upon the stone: and though, perhaps, this description of it may not be striking, the exquisite carving of that destroyed book is such that people ask its meaning, and they are told that it is a "torn Bible."
Hubert Goodwin, the tenant of that grave, was the eldest of six children, blessed with pious and affectionate parents, well to do in the world, and descended from a family of some distinction.