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“ I wish they would mend the bridge,” ob- served Grace, as a tremendous jolt over a stone under water brought u ludicrous ex- pression of dismay to her pretty features ; “ father says it’s not safe for a coach since the parapet tumbled down ; but they will surely repair it now tlfe King’s come.” HOLMBY HOUSE. “ I wish they would, indeed I” assented Mary; “ it’s hardly fit. for horseJc'flk now, and Bayard and I have mauy‘a. quarrel about go- ing so near the edge. It’s Wide enough for a couch too,” she added, “ and I dread the water coming in every time we go through this treacherous ford. Of all days in my life, I wouldn‘t have a fold out of place today, Grace. I should like to make my courtesy to him in his reverses with more ceremony than I ever did at White“ " The word was never finished. Another jolt. accompanied by much splashing, strug- gling, and a volley of expletives from Sir Giles, who had turned his horse back who the water. and was swearing lustily by the carriage window, interrupted the speaker, and announced that some catastrophe had taken place. It was even so. A spring had given way in the ford, and on arriving at the further b'ank it was morever discovered that an axle as injured so much as to necessitate a halt Eu the repair of damages. Sir Giles dia- mounted, the ladies ulighted; and Dy. mocke, who was provided with the neces Bury toolsâ€"without which indeed none ever dreamed of travellingâ€"commenced his op- erations; the party, congratulating them- selves on the fine summer’s day which, not- withstanding their Court dresses, made half an hour‘s lounge in the pleasant mea- ws not even an inconvenience. In the venteenth century such trifling mishaps were the daily concomitants of a morning’s drive. “ Woa, my man !" said Sir Giles. who was holding the sorrel by the bridle, whilst Mary patted and smoothed his glossy neck, and Grace gathered a. pofly of wildflowers by the river’s briml The horse erected his ears, snorted and neigliod loudly, fidgcting, m over, despite 01 Mary’s caresses and Sir Guess impatient jerks, and describing circles round the pair, as if he would fail] break from his restraint and gallop off. “ The devil’s in the beast !” queth Sir Giles, testily. as a. shabbilydressed man with a rod and line, apparently intent. upon his angling, moved slowly down the river bank to where they stood, and the horse whinnied and pawed, and became more uneasy every mo- ment. The fisherman was clad in a worn-out suit of coarse brown stuff. his hat was slouohed completely over his eyes ; the upper part of his faceâ€"all that could be seen, heweverâ€" was deadly pale ; and the unstendiness of his hand imparted a tremuloua metion to his angle, which seemed either the result of in- ward agitation or the triumph of manual art. Sir Giles was a. brother of the craftâ€"~as in- deed 1n What department of field sports had the old Cavalier not taken his degree ‘2 Of course he entered into conversation with the angler despite tue restlessness of his charge: a. nu “ What sport. master ?” quoth Sir Giles in his cherry, boisterous tones ; “ methinks the sun is somewhat too bright for your fish- ing to-day, and indeed the weight of your basket will scarce trouble you much if you have not better luck after your morning’s draught. Zounds, man 1 have you caught never a fish since daybreak ‘2” WThe basket. as Si; Giles could see, was in- deefid open__ antiâ€"{amply ! . 1. 1 u|-,, V r "7" ’ I v Thus adjured, the fisherman halted within ten paces of the knight, but apparently he s so intent on his occupation that he could fit spare breath for a. reply. He spoke never Word, and the sorrel was more troublesome than ever. Sir Giles’s wrath began to rise. “ The insolent Roundhcad knave !" mut- tered the old Cavalier ; “ shall he not answer when a. gentleman accosts him thus civilly ? Let me alone, Mistress Mary : I will cndgal the soul out of him, and fling him into the river afterwards, sweetheart. as sure as he stands there E” "it-tum“ n.-. _ , Mary suggested that the poor man might perhaps be really deaf, and succeeded in pacifying her companion; Whilst the angler, slouching his hut. more than ever over his face. fished on, apparently quite unconscious of their presence. Sir Giles ahd the sorrelâ€"the latter moat 11n- willinglyâ€"strolled off towards the coach, and Mary remained watching the fishelman’ 24 move. ments with nsort of dreamysatisfnction; she had become subjectto these idle dreamy fits of late, and something about this man’s coarsely-clad figure seemed to embark her thoughts upon a tide of pleasmg associations that carried her far, far back into the past. 1 Au fly. 1.--, .H- V Pshaw? this dreaming is npemicioushabit, and must be broken through. She would accost the fisherman. and ascertain if he re- mained as (leaf to n. lady‘s voice as he had been to that of old Slr Giles. Just then, however, Grace called to her to say the car- riage was ready, and Mary with a heavy sigh turned slowly to depart. . 1 n ,,1, mun-w. u.y..._, .4 V, The fisherman’s line trembled as though a hundred perches were tugging at it from the depths of the sluggish None. He watched her retreating fib‘ure, but never moved from his position. She reached her party, and they mounted once more into the coach. compress- ing as much as possible their spreading dresses rw'),, _L.\ “n... mud!“ In mun-“v... ..N ,.V__, 7,, to make room for Sir G'des, who was easily fatigued now, and who handed over the still refractory sorrel to the care of Dymocke. and proceeded to perform the rest of the journey on wheels. As the couch lumbered heavily away, it passed the very spot where the angler still stood intent on his fishing. Both ladies glanced at his ill-dressed farm as they drove by, and watched long afterwards from oppo- site Windows the unusual proceedings of the sorrel, who, instead of suffering Dymocke to unt him quietly as was his wont, broke aompletely away from that attendant‘ and after a frolic round the meadow trotted quietly up to the stranger, and proceeded to rub his head. against thz, brown jerkin with 9. Violence that threatened to push its wearer bodily into the water. 1 1 uuu "may“ The last the ladies saw as they ascended the hill toward the small hamlet of Chapel- Brampton,” their serving-mun in close conversation with the angler, whom they had erroneously inferred to be deaf. Though it must have struck each of them as a strange circumstance, it is remarkable that neither expressed an opinion on the subject, and a. silence broken only by A feeling 0f longing Now draws me away From home marl its loved ones To wander astray. Fax over the hill-tops The clouds hunt; in air, Ag]!)\:’ in the sunbcu,ms,â€"- She waits for me there! The last beams of sunset Are gilding the height; My loved one still turries, She fears not the nigh b. By brooksida she meders The green meadow through And darker and darker Night's shadow's pursue. The shanow-Wing'd ravens Move slowlv along, And joining their party, I go with the throng They soar o’er the mountainsâ€"â€" I paw rock mu] tree ; 0h joy! I behold her! She tnrries for me 1 She roves through the forest The signal I sing; The note of the song-bird O’erjoyed with the spring. She lingers and listens And WhiSHers Winh glee : “ He sings it so sweetly He. sings it for me I" I glide through the bushes. A wandering star, She starts and she trembles ; " What glonms from afar '2' “ ’Tis only my lantern, My dearest and best, And I at your feet,10va, For here I am blest I” GOE’I‘HE’S QE HNHUCIIT- (From the Germ an of Goethe.) eorge W. Birdseye‘ the snores of Sir Giles. who always went to sleep in a carriage, reigned between them for at least two miles. At the termina- tion of that distance, however, Grace, rousing herself from a. {it of abstraction, addresierl her no less absent companion : “ Did you notice that fisherman’s dress, Mary ‘2" was her innocent observation. “Shabby as it was he had got a knot of faded pink ribbon under his doublet. I saw it quite plain when he lifted his arm to throw his line. Wasn’t it strange ‘2" Mary grew as white as the laced handker- chief in her hand, and in proportion as the blood forsook her cheeks her companion flushed to the very temples. Each turned to her own Window and her own thoughts once more. Despite the jolting, Sir Giles slept on. Dyinocke, too, overtookâ€"the carriage ; but it would have been indeed hopeless to question that functionary, whose gravity and reserve became deeper day by day, and who, since his interview with the King the night before Naseby, was ‘ never known to unbend even under the influence of the strongest potations. Sir Giles snored comfortably on, and thus, without another word been exchanged, the Royalists arrived to pay their respects to their unhappy sovm‘eign under the sheltering; roof of Holmby House. ling on the Harlestone Heath “ HOLMBY HOUSE.” On the fairest site perhaps in the whole fair country of Northampton stand to this day the outward walls. the lofty gates, and an inconsiderable remnant of what was once the goodly edifice of Holmby House. The slope of the ground which declines from it on all sides, offers a succession of the richest and most pastoral views which this rich and pas- toral country can afford. Like the rolling prairie of the Far West, valley after valley of sunny meadows, dotted with oak and elm and other noble trees, undulates in ceaseless va- riety far as the eye can reach; but unlike the boundless prairie, deep dark copses and thick luxuriant hedgerows, bright and fragrant with wild flowers and astir with the glad song of birds, diversify the foreground and blend the distance into a mass of woodland beauty that gh ddens alike the fastidious eye of the artist and the stolid gaze of the clown. In June it is a dream of Eairyland to wander along that crested eminence, and turn from the ruins of those tall old gateways cutting their segments of blue out of the deep sum- mer sky, or from the flickering masses of still tender leaves upon the lofty oaks, yellowing in the floods of gold- en light that stream through the network of their entangled branches, very true to the up-gazing eye a study of forest scenery in itself, and so to glance earthward at the fair expanse of homely beauty stretch- ing away from one's very feet. Down in the nearest valley, massed like a solid square of Titan warriors, and scattered like advanced champions from the gigantic array profusely up the opposite slope, the huge old oaks at Althrope quiver in the summer haze. backed by the thickly wooded hills that melt in soft- tened outlines into the southern sky. The fresh light green of the distant larches bloom- is relieved by the dark belt of firs that draws a thin black line against the horizon. A light cloud of smoke floats above the spot where lies fair Northampton tovlm, but the intervening trees and hedgerows are so clothed in foliage that scarce a building can be discerned, though the tall sharp spire of Kingsthrope pierces upward into the sky. To the west, at confu- sion of wooded knolls and distant copses are bathed in the vapoury haze of the declining sun, and you rest your dazzled eyes, swim ming with so much beauty. and stoop to gath- er the wild flower at your feet. Ah, ’tis a pleasant season, that same merry month of June! Then in Decemberâ€"who doth notknow and appreciate the merits of December at such a spot as Holmby? Of all climates upon earth, it is well known that none can produce the equal of a soft mild English winter’s day, and such a day at Holmby is worth livmg for through the gales of blustering October and the fogs of sad November, with its depressing atmosphere and continuous drizzle. Ay, these are rare pastures to breathe a goodly steed, and there are fences too hereabouts that will prove his courage and your own! But enough of this. Is not Northamptonshirc the very homestead of horse and hound, and Pytchléy but a. synonym of Paradise for all who delight thefeini Lord Ghance‘llor Hattonâ€"whe whose skilful performances in the dance so charmed our Royal Elizabeth, and whose “shoestrings” green," “ whose bushy board and satin doub- let” Moved the stout heart of England’s Queen, Though Pope and Spaniard could not trouble itâ€"~ . ‘ seems to have been a nobleman of undoubted taste in architecture as well as a thorough master of the Terpsichorean art. At a sufficiently mature age he built the fair pal- ace which was destined hereafter for the resi- dence of a king, to be, as he coxcornbingly expressed it, " the last and greatest monu- ment of his youth.” Its exterior was accord- ingly decorated with all the quaint ins and outs, mullioned‘i‘windows, superfluity of chim- neys, and elaborate ornaments which distin- guish the “earlier and lesser monuments" of the agile Lord Keeper. A huge stone gate- way, with the Hatton arms carved on a shield above their heads, admitted our coach and its occupants into a large court-yard, around two sides of which extended the state and re- ception-room of the palace. This court itself was now filled with officers of the King’s household and other personal retainers of a peaceful character; there were even a few goodly beef-eaters. but no clash of swords nor waving of standards; none of the gallant troop of Life Gruards that seemed so appro- priate to the vicinity of a sovereign. Alas l how many of them were sleeping where they fell. a couple of leagues away yonder, where the flat skyline of Naseby field bounds the horizon to the north. Not even a blast of trumpets or a roll of kettledrums aroused Sir Giles from his slumbers. and Grace was forced to wake him with a. merry jest anent his drowsiness as they lumbered in beneath the archway, and sent their names on from one official to another, waiting patiently for their turn to alight, inasmuch as the forms and ceremonies of a court were the more scrupulously observed the more the for- tunes of the monarch were on the wane, and an old family coach of an- other county grandce was immediately before them. The diselnbarkation of these honest courtiers was a matter of time and trouble. ’ Loyalty and valor had deprived them of their ‘ coach-horses. six of which had failed to save ' one of the King's guns in the flight from ‘ Nasehy, and four huge unwieldy animals from the plough had been substituted for the team of Flanders mares with their long plaited tails and their slow but showy action. One of these agricultural animals. a colt, who seemed to feel that neither by birth nor ap- pearance was he entitled to the position he now occupied, could in no wise be induced to face the glories of the royal servingqnen who crowded round the door of reception. In vain the coaelimsn flogged, the grooms and runningdootmen kicked and jerked at the bridle, the ladies inside screamed, and the Cavalier in charge of them swore a volley of the deepest Royalists oaths ; the colt was very refractcry, and pending his reduction, Sir Giles had ample time to look around him at (Dexâ€"WW . #4 :0- the walls he know so Well, and reflect how unaltered they were when everything else was so changed. ‘<(‘D VOL. XXII. CHAPTER XXVII , But t‘w Stuart, though in reality worsted, F conquered. and in ward, was permitted to en- ]oy all the outward semblance of royalty; was served w.t‘i all the strict Observances and , ceremonious etiquette due to a sovereign. He had a. household. too, and a Court, though neither were of his own choosing; and Court :ml household vied with each other in re- , blmctful deference to their charge. The Par- l limnentury Commission stated, in the docu- I wont which gave them their authority, to be his Majesty’s loyal subjects, was composed, partially at least, of noblemen and gentlemen ‘ who were not personally obnoxious to their l Sovereign, and who had for long supported i him in his claims, till their better judgment ' convinced them those claims were unconsti- 3 tutional and subversive of real liberty. The Earls of Pembroke, of Denbigh. and Lord Montague, were no violent Roundheads ; whilst of the inferior members who represented the Lower House, Major-General Browne was an especial favorite with the King; and Sir James Harrington came of a family on Whose loyalty the slightest imputation had never hitherto been cast. Many a cup had he emptied here with gentle King Jamie, who to his natural inefliciency and stupidity added the disgusting tendencies of a sot. Many a jest had he exchanged with Archie Arinstrong,the King’s foulâ€"like others of his profession, not half such a fool as his master. Many a rousing night had he passed in yonder turret, where was the little round chamber termed the King’s Closet, and many a fair morn had he ridden out through this very gateway to hunt the stag on the inootlands by Haddon, or the wild hills of Ashby, far sway with hound and horn to stsley’s sheltering eoverts, or the deep woodlands of distant Castle-Dykes. Ay, ’twas the very marrow of the day when Grace’s mother had made him a certain confession and a certain promise, that he saw the finest run it was ever his lot to enjoy with an out- lying deer that had escaped from this very park, and though he “killed his best horse in the chase, it was the happiest day in his life. He looked at Gracey. and the old man’s eyes filled with tears. Sir Giles was getting a. good deal broke 110W, so his neighbors said. The country grandees are disembarked at last. The succeeding coach lumbers heavily up to the palace door, and as their names are passed from official to official, Sir Giles and his two ladies stand once more under the roof of their sovereign, who, despite all his re- verses, still holds royal state and semblance in his own court. They like to think so. and deceive themselves and him, if only for an hour. As far as actual luxury or pleasure was concerned, Charles’s daily habits, whatever he was, partook of a sufficiently self-denying and ascetic character to make his enforced residence at Holmby no more secluded than had been his life in the full flush of his early prosperity at Whitehall. The King was al- ways. even in his youthfnl i .\'.-i, of a remark- ably studious turn of mind, regular in his habits, and punctilions of all such small ob- servances on the part of his household as pre- served that regularity in its most unbroken course. The hours of devotion, of study, of state, of exercise and of eating, were striclly portioned out to the very minute, and this arrangement of his time enabled the mon- arch, even in the midst of his busiest and most pressing avocations, to devote his lei- sure to those classical studies of which he was so fond. From his warlike ancestorsâ€" who indeed had been used to keep their crown with the strong hand, and who, thanks to Armstrongs and Elliotts on the border, not to mention a refractory Douglas or two nearer home, never left off their mail and plate, or forget to close steel gauntlet or ashen spear for many months togetherâ€"he had inherited a certain muscular energy of body and vigor of constitution which he strove to retain by the regular observance of daily exercise. “ It is well worth our ob- servation,” says his faithful chronicler, worthy Sir Thomas Herbert. “that in all the time of his Majesty’s restraint and solitude he was never sick, nor took anything to prevent sickness, nor had need of a physician, which under God, is attributed to his quiet disposi- tion and unparalleled patience, to his exer- cise (when at home walking in the gallery and privy garden, and other recreations when abroad), to his abstemiousness at meat, eat- ing but of few dishes, and, as he used to say, agreeable to his exercise, drinking but twice every dinner and supper, once of beer, and once of wine and water mixed, only after fish a glass of French wine ; the beverage he him- self mixed at the cupboard, so he would have it. He very seldom ate and drank before dinner, nor between meals.” Thué did the captive monarch keep him- self. so to speak in training, _both >o_f body_ nl mind. or whatever exercises either of effort or endurance might be required of him; and thus perhaps rendered more tolerable that period of restraint and surveillance which is so calculated to enervate the physicial as well as the intellectual powers. and to resist the effects of which requires perhaps a com- bination of nobler qualities than to conquer armies and subjugate empires with the strong hand. It rested with the discretion of this Com- mittee to nominate the principal officers of his Majesty's household ; and the list of their selection, including as it dues the name of Herbert, afterwards Sir Thomas. who filled the post of Groom of the Chambers to the King, and attended him. an attached and faithful servant to the last betrays at least a respect for Charles’s prejudices, and a consideration for his com- fort. Dr. Wilson was retained as the Royal physician -, and the accustomed staff of cup- bearers, carvers, cooks and bat-hers, \vere continued in their Ollices, with the single proviso, that such alone should be dismissed as had borne arms against the Parliament. The duties of roasting, boiling, filling, serving and slaving, being of no warlike tendency. is not to be supposed that this exception would weed the household of more than With a liberality that docs credit to the rebellious Parliament, we find. in their records a sumptuous provision for the maintenance of the King's table, and the payment of his et~ tendants here. The roll of officials indispen- seble to a Court, comprises a variety of sub- ordinates eharitubly presumed to be necessary to the daily wants of Royalty ; and the “clerks of green cloth, clerks of the assignmentpf the bakehouse, pantrie, cellar, butterie, spioerie, confectionery. cheundrie, ewrie, landrie and kitchen," must have had but little to do, and plenty of time to do it, in the rural retirement of this Nex‘themptonshire residence. Cook’s â€"heml and subordinate ‘- “turn-bronch- a very few familiar faces; and Charles found himself at. Holmby surrbanled by much the same number and class of domestics that would have been eating his Royal substance at Whitehall. 05', porters and scowrers, with knavea of the boiling-house, larder, poultrie, scauld- ing-house, accuterie, pnstrie, Wood‘yard, and scullurie," help to swell the hungry phalanx; 1101' must. the “ gate ward" be forgotten, and another functionnry termed the “ harbinger," who, like the “ odd man" of modern times in large estabhshments, was probably the deliv- erer of messages, and did more work than all the rest put. togczther. “ It is conceiVed that there be a number of the guard proposed to curry up the King‘s meat,” quoth the record; and for this pur- pose was daily told off a good detachment, consisting of two yeomen‘ushers, two yeomen- hangers, and twenty yeomen of the guard ; when to this numerous force was added the RICHMOND HILL, THURSDAY, DEC.- 4, 1879. The King’s daily life at Holmby seems to have been studious and regular to a degree. An early riser, he devoted the first hours of the morning in his religious exercises, pray- ing with great fervor in his closet, and there studying and reading such works of contro- versial divinity as most delighted his some- what narrow intellect and formal turn of ‘ mind. At the same hour every morning a poached egg was brought to him, and a glass of fair water : after which, accogioanied i either by the Earl of Pembroke ' or ; General Browne, he took his regular exercise by walking to and fro for an allotted time, in fair weather, up and down the green terraces' which lay smooth and level to the south of ' the palace, and in wet, through the long cor- i ridors and spacious chambers which adorned its eastern wing. At the expiration of the exact period, the King again retired to his own private apartments, where such public 1i business as he still conceived himself emâ€" ,1 powered to undertake, the study of the classics, and the prosecution of 3. correspond» once which indeed seldom reached its destina- tion, occupied him tlll the hour of dinner, in those days punctually at noon. This meal, we need hardly say, was served with great state and ceremony. Ewerâ€"bearers with nap- kin and golden bason, ushers with their white , wands, preceded the entrance and presided ‘ over the conclusion of the banquet. No form was omitted which could enhance the stately nature of the ceremony ; and the King dined on a raised dais six inches above the level floor of the dining-hall. After dinner a quarter of an hour exactly was devoted to con- versation of a light and frivolous character, the only period in the day, be it observed, that such conversation was encouraged, or even tolerated, by the grave Charles ; but anything approaching to levity, not to say inâ€" decency, was severely rebuked by that decor- ous Monarch, who could not endure that a high oflicer of his household should once beast in his presence of his proficiency inhard drinking, but inflicted on him a caustic and admonitory reprimand for his indiscretion. What a contrast to his successor l swarm of " pages of the bedchamber and back- stairs, gentlemen-ushers. gentlemen of the privy-chamber. cup-bearer, carver, server, and esquire of the body, grooms of the robes and privy-chamber, daily weyters, and quarter wayters, Dages of the presence, and the re- moving wardrobe, grooms of the chamber, messengers of the chamber, physician, apath- ecary barber, chirurgeon,andlaundresse,” the King’s household in his captivity, will, we submit, bear comparison with that of any of his Royal brethren in the full enjoyment of their power. There being a deficiency, too, of plate for the Royal table, that article of festive state having been long ago been converted into steel, horseflesh, gunpowder, and such muni- tions of war, it was suggested by the inven- tive genius of the Committee, that the com- munion-plate formerly set on the altar of his Majesty’s chapel of Whitehallâ€"consisting of “ one gilt shyppe. two gilt vases. two gilt euyres, a square bason and fountain, and. a silver rod”â€"â€"â€"should be melted down to make plate for the King’s use at Holmby, there being none remaining in the jewel-office fit for service ; and this somewhat start- ling. not to say sacrilegious, proposal'seems to have been entertained, and noted on acâ€" cordingly. Thirty pounds sterling a day for his Maj- esty’s ” diet of twenty-eight dishes," was the very handsome allowance accorded by the Parliament ; and the amount of expenses in- curred by the Royal household at Holmby for twenty days commencing on the 13th Febru- ary, and ending on the 4th of March, reached the large sum of 2990l., between 50,0001. and 60,0001. 3 year. For the bodily wants of the Sovereign no demand seems to have been considered too exorbitant, but for his spiritual needs the Parliament would not hear of any but their own nominees, and instead of the Bishops of London, Salisburv, er Peterborough, or such other divines as his Majesty desired to consult, they substi- tuted the bigoted Marshall and the enthusias- tic Caryl to be the keepers of the King’s conscience, and trustees for the welfare of his soul. Perhaps this arrangement was of all the most galling to Charles’s feelings, and the most distasteful to the very strong ten- dency which he had always shown for casu- istry and controversial religion. Though these chaplains preached alternately, in the chapel attached to the palace, every Sunday mom- ing and afternoon to the Commissioners and the Royal household. the King, while he per- mitted such of his retinue to attend as were so disposed. perferred to preform his own devotions in private, rather than sanction with his presence the Presbyterian form of worship to which he was so opposed; and even at his meals the conscientious monarch invariably said grace himself rather than ae- cept the services of either chaplain, both of whom were nevertheless always in close at- tendance upon his Majesty. A game of chess, played with the due at- tention and silence which befit that pastime, succeeded to this short space of relaxation ; and we can imagine the reflections that must have obtruded themselves on the Monarch’s mind when the ivory King was reduced to its last straits, cooped up to the three or four squares which formed his own battle ground, his queen gone, his bishops, knights, and castles all in the hands of the adversaryâ€" now checking him at every turn, and the issue of the contest too painful like that catastrophe in real life, which he must have seen advancing to meet him with giant strides. At the conclusion of this suggestive pur- suit, it was his Majesty’s custom, when the weather permitted, to ride out on horseback, accompanied by one or more of the Com- missioners, and attended by an armed escort, which might be more properly termed a guard. 'The King‘s rides usually took the direction of the Earl of Sunderland’s house at Althorpe, or that of Lord Vaux at Boughton, at either of which places he could enjoy his favorite diversion of “bewls;” for the green 9. Holmby, though level and spacious enough, did not run sufficiently true to please the critical eye and hand of so eminent a. per- former at. this game as was Charles I. The evening passed off in the like formal and somewhat tedious routine. An hour of meditation succeeded the ride, and supper was served with the same observance as the noondsy meal. Grave discourse, turning chiefly upon the Latin classical authors, and studiously avoiding all allusion to those politi- cal topics which probably formed the staple of conversation in every other household in the kingdom, furnished up the schoolboy lore of the Commissioners, and gave the Royal pedn‘nt an opportunity of exhibiting his su- periority to his keepers in this department of literature. The King’s devotions then occu- pied him for acozrsiderable period in his closet, and he retired to rest at an early hour, with a. degree of languid composure surprising to witness in one so circumstanced, and which never seems to have deserted him even in the last extremity. Such was the daily life of the vanquished King, varied only by such a public reception as the present, when his earlier glories seemed to flicker up once more in an illusive flash are they were quenched in darkness for ever. We have left Sir Giles and his fair chargeq in an inner-hall, which led directly to the prgs‘epce’of Boynfiy. _ This chambe}, filmed with beautifully carved Sir Giles did not answer. He was thinking of the many Royal receptions he had attended during the troubles, and how each after each seemed thinner of the 01d familiar faces, the hearty friends and good blades that had hedged their Sovereign round with the wall of steel in vain; whose bones were strewn far and wide over the surface of merry Eng. land; whose estates were gone, their families scattered, their hearths desolate. How few were left now 1 and those few, like himself, rusty, worn-out, disused, yet retaining the keen temper of the true steel to the last. “ Welcome, Sir Giles,” whispered Maxwell, 3 courtier of forty yeare‘ standing, who had spent many a merry hour with the old knight under this very roof in days of yore, and who, albeit a man of peace from his youth upward, showed the mark of Time as plainly on his wrinkled face and snowy locks as did his more adventurous comrade, without however at- taining the dignified and stately bearing of the veteran warrior. “ Welcome ! The King spoke of you but yesterday. His Mej- esty will be indeed glad to see you. Fair ladies, you may enter at once. The dragon that watched over the garden of the Hesperides neglected his post under the daz- zling rays of beauty, whilst he was but Jupi- ter’s Usher of the Block Rod!” Grace smiled. “What aiormidable dragon!” she whispered, with an arch glance at that ancient courtier, that penetrated through brocade and embroidery~ fly, and a flannel bulwark agaiust rheumatismâ€"to his suscep- tible old heart. Such shafts were never aimed at him in vain, but invariably reached their mark. Need we add that Maxwell was a confirmed bachelor of many years’ stand- mg. oak, and adorned with escutcheons and other heraldic devices, presented a quaint and pleasing appearance; not ~out of keeping with the rustling and plume]. gallants that crowd- ed its polished floor. In its centre stood three carved pyramids, of which the middle overtepped its two supporters by several feet; and around. this shrine of heraldry were em- blazoned the different coats of arms of the nobility and gentry of the surrounding dis- tricts. At the further extremity of the hall stood a. high wooden screen. such as in cathedrals portions off the altar from the nave, wrought into elaborate and fantastic ornaments, in which the grotesque nature of the imagery was only equalled by the excellence of the carving ; and as the recess behind this frame- work communicated directly with the Pres- ence Chamber, Maxwell, the Usher of the Black Rod, was here stationed to announce the names of those loyal gentlefolks who came to pay their respects to his Majesty. Maxwell esteemed himself only second to his royal master in classical lore, and piqued himself on two things in the worldâ€"the whiteness of his laced ruffles and the labor- ious pedantry of his compliments. “It reminds one of Whitehall,” whispered Mary to Sir Giles, as the latter delivered their names in the subdued and reverential whisper becoming the atmosphere of a. Court " only there are some ludicrous figures amongst the ladies’ dresses,‘ she added, woman-like, with a. downward glance of satisfaction at her own well-chosen costume, and another of admiration at her companion’s beautiful figure. __ Grace pursed up her pretty mouth into an expression of the gravest decorum, for she had now entered the magic circle, of which the centre was the King. It was indeed a. sad contrast to the sssem- bly she remembered so well at Merton Col- lege. Where were the Newcastlee, the Win- chesters, and the Worcesters ? â€" the brilliant aristocracy that had onee formed the brightest jewels of the Crown? Where was Ormond’s sagecious courage and Rupert‘s ready gallantry? Lichfield’s goodly person and Sir Jacob Astley's fine 01d war-worn. face ? Where were the nobility and chivalry of England? Alas! not here in Holmby, rallying round their King , and therefore dead scattered, and swept away from the face of the earth. Constrained and gloomy countenances sur- round him now, instead of those frank haughty fronts that quailed not before a Sovereign’s eye, but ever greeted him with with manly looks of loyalty and friendshipâ€" iaces in which he could confide, and before which it was no shame oven for a monarch to nnbend. His manner, always stately, has now become gloomy and reserved to the ex- treme of coldness. He cannot but be aware that every word of his lips, every glance of his eye, is watched with the utmost vigilance, noted down. and in all probability reported for the behoof of his bitterest enemies; yet must he never betray his consciousness of surveillanceâ€"must never for an instant lose his judgment and self command. .~.. ‘Twas but this very morning that, taking his accustomed exercise abroad, accompanied by Major-General Browne and the devout Caryl. whose zeal to convert his sovereign never suffered him to be absent a moment from his side, a poor squalid woman, carrying a child in her arms, marked and scarred with that scrofulous disease which, though its superstitious remedy has been discarded, bears to this day the name of “ king’s evil.” approached the person of her Sovereign. and begged him, in tones of pite- ous appeal, only to touch her child, that it might be healed. Poor Woman! she had watched. and waited, and dodged the park- keepers, and stilled her own panting heart many a. weary hour, ere she could penetrate to the King's presence ; and she pleaded ear- nestly now. for she had implicit faith in her remedy. .... ..n 1 Charles. over merciful, ever kindly. and. like all his family,ever good-natured, hetened patiently to the poor woman’s tale; and whilst he bestowed on her a broad piece or two bor- rowed from the General for the occasion, stretched forth his own royal hand to heal the whining infant of its malady. “ Hold, woman !” exclaimed Caryl, indig- nantly interposing his person between the royal physician and the little sufferer. “ Wouldst thou blaspheme before the very face of a, minister of the Word ‘2 Who can heal save He alone, whose servants we are ? And thou, sire ?” he added, turning roughly upon the King, “ what art than that thou shouldet arrogete to thyself the issues of life and death? Thouâ€"9. man ! a worm 1â€"8. mere insect crawling on the face of the earth 1 Away with thee. Charles Stuart! in shame and peni- tence, lest a worse thing betel thee ! Have we not read the. Soriptures?â€"do they not enjoin us: to ‘fear God 7’ ” uu nu Ava/A uuu. ‘a‘ And ‘houor the king,’ ” added Charles, very quietly, and passing his hand gently over the child’s forehead. Caryl sank back abashed, and the MajorlGrenenralgave vent t0 hlis indig- ation in a volley of stifled oaths, which, PM. liamentarian though he was. his military edu- cation called up at this instance of what he was pleased to term in his mutterings, “a. conceited parson’s insubordination, worthy of the strappndo l” The King‘s gloomy countenance, however, broke into a melancholy smile when he recog- nized the honest face of Sir Giles Allonhy ad- vancing into the presence. He made a step forward, and extending both hands as the old Cavalier sank upon his knee, raised him to his feet, and led him a, little aside from the surrounding throng, as though anxious to distinguish him by some special mark of his royal favor. The devoted Royalist’s whole face brightened at this instance of his Sover- eign’s condescension. and Sir Giles looked ten years younger for the moment as he basked in the rays of this declining sun of royalty. “ Express to good Lo1d Vaux our sympa- thy and sorrow for his malady, which con- fines hnn thus to his chambe1.He must indeed he ill at ease when he fails to attend our Court, as well we. know Tell him that ; we will ourselves visit him ere long at his ' own good house at Bougnton.1{ark ye,Si1 r Giles l I have heard much of the excellence of your bowling green yonder; we will play a set once more for a broad piece, as we did ‘ long ago, in days that we1e somewhat me:â€" ; rier than these are now.” ” The green below these windows,” said he, “ is so badly levelled that the bowl runs constantly against the bias. Even my Lord Pembroke can make nothing of it, and you and I can remember him, Sir Giles, many a point better than either of us. ’Tis a. game 1 love well,” added Charles, abstractly ; “ and yet methinlts ’tis but a. type of the life of menâ€"and kings. HOW many are started fair upon their object with the surest aim and best intentions ; how few ever reach the goal. How the bias turns this one aside, and the want of force lets another die out in mid career, and an inch more would make a third the winner, but that it fails at the last hair‘s-breath. That is the truest bowl that can best sustain the rubs of the green. "1‘is the noblest heart that scorns to escape from its crosses, but can endure as well as face the ills of lifeâ€" Rebus in udvorsis feeile est conteninere vitem Fortiter ille melt qui miser esse potest." He sighed as he spoke ; and Sir Giles pre- fessed himself, as indeed he was, over- powered at the condescension of his Sovâ€" ereign. The party from Boughton sauntered through the lofty ap11'tme11ts of the palace, and entered into cnuversation with such of their friends and acquaintance as had passed through the Presence Chamber. Then the heavy coach once more lumbereal through the courtyard, and they returned the way they came. Sir Giles was in high spirits at the antici- pation of his Majesty's visit, and talked of nothing else the whole way home. Mary. con- trary to her wont. looked pale and tired, whilst Grace seemed somewhat abstracted and occu- pied with her own thoughts. As they traversed Brampton ford they both looked for the strange fisherman, but he was nowhere to be seen. The river stole on quiet and undisturbed, its surface burnished into gold by the hot afternoon sun, and rippled only by the kiss of the steeping swallow, or the light truck of the passing water fly. The King warmed to the subject. He could interest himself in trifles still. “ Very true, your Majestyâ€"quite correct. observed the delighted Slr Giles, whose Latin had been long effaced by far more important pursuits. “Everything shall be ready for your Majesty and in order. We cannot thank your Majesty enough.” “ And this is your daughter," pursued Charles, gravely and courteously saluting the young lady, who followed close upon her father’s steps ; “a fair flower from a staunch old stem ; and the Mistress Mary Cave, too, whom I rejoice once more to welcome to my Court.” But a cloud passed across the King’s brow as he spoke, and the deep melancholy expression darkened his large eyes as Mary’s face recalled to him the light of happier days and the image of his absent Queen. He turned from them with a sigh, and they passed on, whilst afresh arrival and a fresh presentation took their place. His greatgrand- father or his son would have detained some- what longer in conversation the two fairest ladies that adorned the Court ; but Charles I. was as insensible to female beauty as James V. and Charles II. were too dangerously susceptible of its attrac- tions‘. Hard held in the sinewy grasp of honest Dymocke, whose features expanded into grim smiles With the excitement oi arousing gollop, the sorrel’s regular stride swept round the park at Boughton, despite the heat of the afternoon’s sun and the hardness of the ground. Such a proceeding was indeed a flagrant departure from the rules of stable discipline, which would have enjoined the serving man to bring his charge quietly home and bed him up incontinently for the night. To judge, however. by Hugh’s countenance, he had good reasons for his unusual measure. and after half-an-hour’s walk through the cool shade of the avenues, he jumped from the saddle in the stable-yard, and contem- plated the still reeking sides of his favorite with an expression of grave and critical ap- proval. The oid Gavaliervwas quite overcome by his emotion. “ Ay,“ said ho, as the sorrel. after snorting once or twice, raised his excited head, as if ready and willing for another gallop. “you could make some of them look pretty foolish even now. Regular work and good food has not done you any harm since you left ofi your soldierin’ ; and. after this bit of a breaker to- night, if you should be wanted to-morrow, Whyâ€"whew I" _ The prolonged whistle which concluded this sohloquy denoted an idea. of such rapidity as words were totally inadequate to convey ; and Dymocke proceeded to wash his charge’s feet‘ and rub down his bright glossy sides in the cool air of the spacious stable-yard, with a de- meanor of mysterious importance which ar- gued the must; alarming results. Now by a curious coincidence it so happened that Faith, despising the allurements of the buttery, in which the other servants were par- taking of one of their many repasts, tripped softly through the yard on her way to the laundry, one of those domestic offices the v1- oinity of which to the stables offers the men and maids of an establishment many opportu- nities of innocent gaiety and improving conâ€" versation. It was not surprising that Faith should loiter for a few minutes to enjoy the society of an individual with whom she avow» edly “ kept company,” or that hereditary cu- riosity should prompt her to demand the cause of the horse’s heated appearance, and the unusual care bestowed on him by his rider. “You do frighten one so, Sergeant,” said Faith, addressing her swnin by his title of brevet rank, with a coy look and one of her sweetest smilesâ€"such a look and smile as argued ulterior intentions. “It gave me quite a turn to see you as I did from Mistress Grace’s window coming round the cedars at such a. break-neck rate. ' Is anything the matter, Hugh ?’ ’ she added, anxiously. “You’re not going to leave us again for sure .9” Dymocke was splashing and hissing for hard life. He paused, winked ominously in the Questioner’s face, and shifting the bucket of water to the ofif side, set to work again more vigorously than before. She had not “kept company” with him all these months without knowing exactly how to manage him. She pulled 21 bunch of green leaves for the sorrel, caressed him admiringly, and looking uskauce nt Dymocke’s stoupiug figure, addressed her conversation to the horse. “ Poor fellow 1” she said, smoothing his glossy neck, “how you must miss your ma 3. ter. He wouldn’t have rode you so unmerci- fully such a baking day as this. I wonder where he is now, poor young man. Far enough away, I‘ll be bound, or you wouldn’t be put upon as you have been this blessed afternoon.” ’ The finnt rankled, Hugh looked up from his operations. “There’s reason for it, Mifiuress Faith; WHOLE N0.1,114â€"â€"NO, 26; CHAPTER XXVIII KEEPING SECRETS. M T: 'eefi Faith’s eyes were fivery soft and pretty, . and she used them at this juncture with consider- able skill. Dymoeke looked up, undoubtedly mollified “ Well it’ 5 nothing about myselfâ€"there !" he granted out, in a rough voice. A step was gained ; he had made an admis- sion. She would Wheedle it all out of him now before the supper-bell rang. Out it all came, indeed, as a secret gener- ally does, much to the relief of the proprie- tox 111111 the satisfaction of the curious. Like a. goat- skin of Spanish wine in which the point of a mountaineer’s knife. has been dextero 1sly insm ted, there is a little frothing and bubbing at that, than a precious drop ooze through the orifice, and anon a. fine, gen- erous stream comes flowing out con- tinuously till the skin is emptied. “ Nor yet the Captain,” exclaimed Faith, clasping her hands in an agony of affected alarm. “Say it is not the Captain, Hugh, for any sake. Oh, my poor young mistress 1 Say it is not the Captain, or Major, or what- ever he be; only say the word, Hugh, that he‘s safe.” “ Well, he’s safe enough as yet, for the matter of that,” answered Hugh. saying the word, however, with considerable unwilling- ness. In such a “pumping" process as the present the struggles of the victim are the more painful from his total inability to es- cape. “ Ah, Hugh,” she said, “ it’s an anxious time for us poor women, that sits and cries our eyes out, when you men you’ve nothing to brood over. I was in hopes the trouble was all done now. Whatever should I do to lose you again, dear? Tell me, Hugh, least- Ways, it’s nothing up about yourself, is it ?" “ As yat, Hugh ‘1’” repeated the operator; “as yet? Then you know something about hlm? he’s alive and well? He’s come back from abroad? he’s in England? perhaps he’s in Northamptonshire even now ?” Dymocke’s whole attention seemed bent on his currycomb and accompanying sibilations. Faith set her lips tight. “ Sergeant Dymocke,” she said, with an air of solemn warning, “you and me has kept company now for many a. long day, and none can say as I’ve so much as looked over my shoulder at ever a young man but yourself. There’s Master Snood, the mercer in North- ampton, and long Will Bucksfoot, the Wild forester at Buckingham, as has been down scores and ' scores of times on their bended knees to me to say the word, and I never said the word, and I never wouldn’t. I won‘t say what I’ve thought, and I won’t say what I’ve hoped; but if things is to end as they‘ve begun between you and me, I wouldn’t answer for the consequences 1" He was forced to abandon his horse and console her to the best of his abilities, with awkward caresses and blunt assurances of affection. By degrees the Bobs became less frequent; certain vague hints, tending to hymeneal results, produced. as usual, :1 sed- ative efleat. Peace was established, and Faith returned to the attack much invigor- ated by the tears that had so relieved her feeL lugs. So Faith learned that the shabby fisherman at Brampton ford was none other than Major Bosville ; that he was waiting there with a. polltical object, which it would be more than his life’s worth to disclose ; that he had been fishing there for two whole days. and had not achieved the object for which he had come ; that the ladies and Sir Giles had been within {ten yards of him, and never recognized him ; and lastly, that the sorrel’s attachment to his master was not to be obliterated by time, nor to be deceived by appearances. .‘ ut‘ groom remained in her hand. She pumd it asundm pensively, Leaf by leaf, and heaved one or twu deep sighs. She knew her man thoroughly ; despite his vinegar face his heart was as soft as butter to the sex. “ Of course you’d trust a wife with every- thing you knew,” observed Faith, in answer to an observation of Dymocke’s, which we are bound to admit was not marked by his usual caution. “And the Major is come back :7 ” she added, in her most coaxing ac- cents and with her sunniest smile. “Yes he s back " said Hugh laconically. ”And you’ve seen him ? ” added IFalth. who felt she was winning easy. Hugh nodded. “This afternoon? ” Another nod, implying a cautions affirm- ative. “Where ? ” ”Close by, at Brampton. The horse knowed him at once, for all his disguise. It was beautiful ‘to see the dumb creature’s affection," urged Hugh, emphatically. « “Disguised, was he ‘2’ echoed Faith, de- lightful w1th the result of her perseverance. "Where had he come from ? where was he going to ? what was he doing ? You may as well tell me all about it now, Hugh. Come out with it there’s a dear.” take my word, there’s reason w u can t. exm'ct to be told the W .ewfnes <2 (.2r3 time. as one 22:83.5 n gallop.’ Tim a “nu u. my; ‘I x, then. ~‘uch u x m ' ion w -s in itself .3With this mysterious and comprehensive threat, Faith burst into apuasion of tears. and burying her face in her apron, wept aloud, re- fusing to he comforted. Afiother point gained. She had dexterously shifted her ground, and put him in the posi- tiog of the suppliant. , â€"Tliere lives in the republic of Salvador at present a venerable gentleman named Miguel Solis, who is 180 years of age, There is no doubt at all about it. He signed a document relating to the building of a convent in 1722, being then 23 years old. When Dr. Hernan- dez lately called on him he was at work in his garden. He takes one strong nourishing meal each day, except on the lat and 15th of each month, when he eats nothing. but drinks as much water as he can. We are lnot told whether he is ateetotaller, or drinks the wine of the country, which is called “ tangleleg.” but it is stated his skin is like parchment, his hair while as snow, while. his eyes have a. most lively expression. â€"Mrs. Howe asked John Clancy what she had better do with $1,000 in gold coin. He strongly advised her to bury it in her cellar. She did so. Soon afterward, on looking to see if the treasure was safe. she found that it had been stolen. Having intrusted the secret to nobody except Clancy, she naturally charged him with being the thief, but there was no convicting proof against him. This happened at Lewiston, Me., fifteen years ago. Last week Clancy lay on his death bed. With this last breath he gasped: “ Dig in my cel- lar you’ll find a pot of gold. ” His direc- ‘tions were followed, and Mrs. Howe’ a gold came to light. â€"Lord Dunmore is a. hardy. brave yachts- man. Last month, ofif the Uist coast, he went out on adark night during a terrible storm in his cutter-rigged fishing boat of about six tons, called the Dauntless. Three Scotch sailors were with him. After beating five hours with close-reeled topsail, they rescued the passengers and crew of the yacht Astarte, belonging to Mr. R. A. Napier, of Glasgow, who were wrecked on a small rocky island, eleven miles from the coast. Lord Dunniore first took three women and two children safely to the coast, and then put to see. again and rescued the remainder. No other boat would venture out in the ;storm. He has learned (let: me kiss from his that teurL As the children tell me, to creep and to in]; , Then life is a. lesson that‘s taught in a year, For the baby knows it ull. â€"“Seveml English jockeys receive $25,- 000 per your.” The Detroit Free Press par- agrapher, when he read this, became jockeylar and remarked that this is likely one reason why they doubled the salary of the President of the United States. So now he has the sun and the moon, The flower and the falling leaf of the tree, Ah, the world is a. picture that’s looked at soon, Is there anything more to see ‘2 BABY KNOWS IT ALL TOO SOON [To BE, CONTINUEDJ 1113‘s,: ‘ ,aiou w J Law » x, then. To 9. woman s in itself a challenge. Lll about it ere she slept for it, though, whys and the of our hmsas