sweetness, and exemption from all the evils of this life. Farewell, my good friends,-every good fortune attend you." They turned away with these sad but glorious words in their ears, and prophetically feeling as if they had beheld the martyr and the Judas of the coming hour of trouble. Cromwell and Hampden strolled away together. While they were engaged in earnest discourse, they suddenly found they had wandered into the ranks of the opposite party. They were known, for they heard men say, "There's the Huntingdon brewer, and the poll-tax rebel. Have at them! -let us drag them to the river." Matters indeed seemed very serious, as a group of wild ruffians approached, offering Cromwell a tankard of ale; and they shouted, "Drink to the Duke, psalm-singers! or you shall float in cold water."

Cromwell suddenly threw the cup away, and seized from two men their quarter-staves, one of which he gave to Hampden; the other he began to whirl round with much address, and said, " Fair play, my English boys! When my soldiers quarrel, I give them sticks like these to fight out their offences."

The man who offered the tankard advanced to meet the challenge. Before long, the combatant's staff was flying through the air, and the man was at Cromwell's mercy. Others took his place, but with no better success, for the strength and rapidity of Cromwell's movements soon stretched them on the ground. Hampden also had taken up his position at the back of his friend. He wielded his long pole with little less adroitness. At last, the bravo of Buckingham, furious to beat the successful fighters, attacked Cromwell angrily, and tried every sort of trick in vain; till, rushing close in, he drew a dagger, and was about to plunge it into his foeman's heart. Cromwell saw the felon's purpose, and, snatching it from his hand, kicked the coward from the circle. A strong band of Roundheads now appeared, and freed the imprisoned champions.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE COURT OF CHARLES AND HENRIETTA.

"Ecco il diletto, la letizia e il giocco

Che aveano in odio il mondo or notte e giorno

Danzar per ogni calle ed ogni prato

Ride or la terra e il mare e in ciascuno loco

Sparge la ricca copia il pieno corno

O! lieta vita! o secolo beato!"

BERNADO TASSO.

HEN the Alderman and the Fleming left Sir John Eliot, they found the highway of Westminster still thronged with all the stir and noise of an

election. Some chariots and sedan-chairs of the gentry had ventured out: one of these, attended by many serving-men, was pointed to with the whisper, "The Duke!" -and there surely was handsome, reckless Buckingham lolling in his chair, with glasses to his eye, amusing himself over the humours of the crowd, but not a little piqued at the defeat his nominee was sustaining. His face, naturally striking, was much bloated and darkened by a course of wanton dissipation. At length their attention was drawn from the Duke to a person standing behind his chair, wearing his gay livery, but who came forward to whisper to the great man, and looked full toward themselves. They recognized the Tutor, and comprehended that his presence boded no good to them. They at once sought to retreat among the crowd. Their way was barred by two well-dressed men, who accosted them: one of these, with

much courtesy, begged the honour of a moment's attention; the other, scowling on them with his hand on his weapon, cried in a hoarse voice, "Halt !"

"Gentlemen," said the former, "I am commissioned by a great person to offer you country visitors in our good city guidance through this hurlyburly, and welcome to a place of quiet observation."

The other, seeing that they still advanced, threw himself in the way, affecting intoxication,-treading on their toes, and swearing angrily: "A murrain on ye!-won't hearken to a gentleman's civilities! Stop!-be advised."

The Fleming now firmly opposed himself, and said aloud, "Our way lies onward,—we have an engagement. We know you not, nor who sends you."

The crowd began to thicken, and many men said, "Best do the Duke's bidding, or you'll suffer for it. See! he comes this way." Thus warned, they looked back, and saw the Duke's chair in motion. The Fleming, knowing that other affairs made it needful he should escape, treated the ruffian as a mere drunkard, thrust him aside, and tried a stroke of strategy, shouting, "The Duke is passing !-room for the Duke!" At that cry all hurried forward, and the stream of people soon bore them along till they were opposite the Embassy, into the spacious porch of which they thankfully entered. Here they were welcomed, and were soon laughing with Herr Werter over the incident.

The Fleming left them a short time, and presently entered by another door as a fashionably dressed cavalier of the period, with long flowing curled periwig, laced ruffs, slashed sleeves, rich tunic, and hose of satin with embroidered lappets and front. A well-dressed lacquey attended him, armed, and carrying a portefeuille. For a moment the transformation deceived even his old friend Sherwood, and great was the mirth when the demure Dutchman was detected under the guise of a finished courtier.

Arriving at the Palace, Mijnheer Gezant Von Pauw at

once entered the presence-chamber, leaving his friend to await his summons in a crowded anteroom. In the large handsome gallery he saw persons of every quality, rather awaiting the appearance of the favourite than the call of the Sovereign, and more eager to see the lively Queen than her reserved and haughty husband. Here were officers of distinction, persons of high rank and fortune-the crême de la crême of Court fashion, with not a few elegantly dressed ladies, talking in low tones and with suppressed laughter. All this well-arrayed and consequential crowd was in motion, walking up and down in promenade, or lounging in the deep window recesses. Among them numbers of ecclesiastics were apparent,-few of the English Puritan clergy, but many of the new school, who in cut of dress and manner could hardly be distinguished from the Queen's Popish priests. The Fleming soon recognized some of the leading bankers of Lombard Street, and the princely merchants who at that time so largely upheld the English character for hospitality and honour among foreigners. He discussed with them the well-known necessities of the kingdom-the commercial politics of Europe—the probability of subsidies and contracts for the new war. They exchanged news of adventures beyond-sea,-in Dutch India, Virginia, and the Americas, with a knowledge of the world's geography which was then almost confined to their class. They also talked of schemes for the liberal patronage of art and literature, and for the education of the ignorant people, together with magnificent asylums for the helpless. Perhaps no converse in that room could compare with that of this merchant group in its elevated tone, although they were somewhat despised by the lisping and effeminate lordlings as "wanting blood, and contaminated by trade, you know; only confounded rich, and with pretty daughters, you know."

A French priest now held forth on "the superiority of his Church as the true patron of art; and his mistress,

....

Henrietta Maria, as a woman of most perfect taste when silence hushed every sound, and through a passage formed by the obsequious company the great Duke was seen, in magnificent apparel, bowing and addressing one and the other on his way to the presence-chamber. The worshippers bent forward as he passed, and gazed upon him as upon some idol. Yet in their hearts this hypocritical crowd envied and hated him very cordially, and would have hailed his disgrace and fawned upon his successor. The Duke spoke loudly and laughed affectedly. He played careless tricks-as twitching at a wide hat, pointing his stick at an open mouth, or laying hands on a bow or a ribbon of unusual length,-so treating the highest as inferiors. Pausing at a bevy of very dashing ladies who simpered as he approached, “ Ah, my beauties," he softly lisped, "after the foul election riots you will hardly bear with us. Pray, are you for puddings or pies?" They laughed as if he had said the wittiest thing, and one of them, May Lascelles, replied, "Villiers pies for me, and no Puritan pudding."

The Duke gazed boldly on her, and rejoined, "And when the pie was opened, Fair May began to sing,—and isn't that a dainty dish to set before a-nay, nay! I will quarrel even with the King for the dish that holds dainty May."

"But," said another-Flora Pierpoint-" you can't eat a whole pie !"

"Then the King shall help me!"-and they tittered together. "But what will the Queen say?" rejoined May.

"Why, you know the Queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey, and leaving her singing birds to themselves," said the Duke.

"And the King," added Flora, "knew nothing about it, "for he was in his counting-house counting out his money." Happy man!" said Buckingham : "that must mean in his Parliament, where, let us hope, plenty of money will soon be counted out for us all."

"Bravo! bravo!" gently echoed many a needy courtier, as