his sanguinary calculation; but a mist was before her eyes-she could not count-then she closed them, wondering she had not relapsed into insensibility, and offered up a fervent prayer for his preservation-it was heard, for when she again dared to look, the fatal wand had touched a captive within two of Gaudentius! Fifty of the hapless prisoners were now ranged beside the altar, and the horrible rites were continued by their unresisted slaughter. One by one they fell beneath the sacrificial knife, whilst the priests chanted in a monotonous tone the following words : "Sword of the Deity, before thee lie The chosen victims-streams of precious gore We seek thine augury. Oh hear our prayer, Thou that partak'st the spirit of the God That wielded thee! and show us signs Chosen from the approaching field of death, shall bleed Their tables were profusely spread with golden plates, and vessels of gold and silver fashioned by the hands of Grecian artists. The monarch alone preserved the superior pride of adhering to the simplicity of his Scythian ancestors. The dress of Attila, his arms, and the furniture of his horse, were plain without ornament, and of a uniform colour; the royal table was served in wooden cups and platters, flesh was his only food, and the conqueror of the North never tasted the luxury of bread. He listened with favourable attention to the Roman ambassadors, and the deliverance of Italy was purchased by the immense ransom or dowry of the princess Honoria. But the king of the Huns threatened to return, more dreadful and more implacable, if the bride were not delivered to his messengers within the time stipulated by the treaty. In the mean time, ere he returned to Scythia, he determined to add to the number of his wives a beautiful maiden named Ildico, and his marriage was to be celebrated with unusual magnificence. This young girl was a Vandal, whose entire family had been destroyed with circumstances of peculiar barbarity by Attila; her exquisite beauty had saved her life, and the Scythian monarch, who had been struck by it, had long intended to make her his wife. But shortly after her captivity she had been afflicted with a lingering disorder, that baffled the skill of the physicians of the camp, which contained many of different nations, who were always treated with respect, and who sometimes gamed their liberty from the barbarians whom their art had succoured. Serena had, in happier days, made the healing art her principal valuable medical secrets. She heard the illness of the beautiful Ildico much spoken of, and asked permission to see her. She was not long in discovering that her illness proceeded as much from mental as bodily causes. She endeavoured to breathe some consolation into her soul, but the unhappy girl at first seemed not to hear her, and then with a flashing eye and crimsoned cheek asked, what consolation there was for her, whose friends, parents, and lover were slaughtered before her eyes," except," added she, "the glory of becoming the bride of Attila." These last words were uttered with a degree of bitterness and anguish combined, that drew tears from the eyes of Serena. She spoke to her of Christian patience and resignation. "I am not a Christian," exclaimed Ildico, "talk not to me of patience, but revenge! Young Christian maiden, there is in your voice and in those tears which you have shed for me, that which inspires me with a degree of confidence in you that I myself wonder at. I do not wish to die yet, though existence is a curse. Try your skill in restoring me to health; your reward shall be a rich one: for Attila will not refuse any recompense I may ask for her who shall restore to its former bloom this fatal beauty." From this time she was assiduously attended by Serena, who administered to her several medicines of her own preparing, and either from their virtue, or the wish to live that seemed once more to inspire her, in less than a month Ildico appeared well, and beautiful as ever. She became much attached to Serena, who endeavoured to impart to her some of the truths of Christianity; but humility, patience, and above all, forgiveness of our enemies, were doctrines to which she would not listen, or if she did, it was with impatience, as if fearful of being convinced. But three prisoners at length remained, the loftiest in stature and the fairest in countenance of all the number, they had been selected as the victims from whom the auguries were to be drawn. Whilst life yet quivered in their limbs, after they had received their death stroke, the chief priest cut off the right arm of each, and tossing it on the pile, marked with eager eyes the manner of its descent. The disgusting and detestable ceremony was then concluded in a manner worthy of its commencement, by scruti-study, and both from her uncle and her mother had learned many nising into the entrails of the victims, and closely examining even their bones, from which the hands of Attila himself cleared away the flesh. At length the monarch was told in mysterious language to expect a defeat in the approaching battle. But nothing could daunt his savage courage: he harangued his troops with more than usual animation, and when, at length, hardly conquered in the conflict which ensued, a conflict fierce, various, obstinate, and bloody, he retired with his soldiers within the circle of waggons that fortified the camp, and collecting the saddles and rich furniture of the cavalry, heaped them into a funeral pile, determining, if his entrenchments should be forced, to set fire to it, and, by rushing headlong into the flames, deprive his enemies of the glory and satisfaction they might acquire by the death or captivity of Attila. But it was not the will of Heaven that he should as yet cease from ravaging the earth. His enemies were too much disabled, even by victory, to cope again with their formidable antagonist, who seemed like a lion encompassed in his den, and threatening his hunters with redoubled fury. The Huns were allowed to retreat unmolested beyond the Rhine; and neither the spirit nor the forces of Attila were diminished by his Gallic expedition. Serena and two morc of the fairest captives had been presented aз slaves worthy to attend on Attila's favourite wife, Circa, who accompanied him in his expeditions, and who saw without repining several rivals given to her in his household, secure of the authority she would still retain as mother of his eldest son. She treated her numerous slaves, on whom she prided herself as being chiefly Romans of noble birth, with kindness, the principal employment of herself and her damsels being that of working the variegated embroidery which adorned the dress of the barbaric warriors; and Serena, captive though she was, felt deeply grateful to Heaven for having preserved her from a much worse fate, when she saw unhappy Christian maidens forced to become the wives of their savage captors. Some months passed on thus, and Attila had advanced nearly to the gates of Rome, breathing vengeance against the devoted city, if the princess Honoria, sister of the emperor Valentinian, whose rich dowry excited his avarice, were not given to him in marriage. What an insult to the majesty of the queen of the world-imperial Rome! But the luxury and vices of her governors had gradually undermined her strength, and she, who once gave laws to the world, was now forced to receive them from a barbarian. An embassy was sent to the camp of Attila, offering to accede to his proposals within a certain time, provided he would evacuate Italy, and form a permanent peace with the empire. The Roman ambassadors were introduced into the tents of Attila, which were pitched by the banks of the softly-winding Mincius, whilst his Scythian cavalry trampled the farms of Catullus and Virgil. The Huns were ambitious of displaying their riches, which were the fruits and evidence of their victories; the trappings of their horses, their swords, and even their shoes, were studded with precious stones, which had once sparkled on the necks and arms of noble ladies, or adorned the swords and helmets of their husbands. The time was now fixed when Ildico was to become one of the many wives of Attila, it was shortly after his interview with the Roman ambassadors, and she told Serena to name her reward for the care bestowed in restoring her to health. Serena then confided to the grateful convalescent her own sad story, and said she only wished for her own liberty and that of Gaudentius, who she hoped might yet be in the camp. "If he yet lives, he shall be restored to you," exclaimed Ildico, "and I shall enjoy one moment of happiness in beholding yours.' She then desired an interview with Attila, who instantly granted her request, and ordered that any Roman slaves in the camp who were named Gaudentius should appear. When Serena heard that six answered to the name, and amongst them she was to look for her Gaudentius, she could scarcely find strength sufficient to walk to the place where they were assembled, so much did she dread a disappointment. At length she ventured, threw back her veil, and the next instant was clasped to the heart of her long-lost lover, who little thought, when he was thus summoned, what happiness awaited him. For the first time Serena saw a tear in the brilliant eye of Ildico, as she turned to thank her. "Happy Serena !" were the only words she uttered, and then retired. When Serena again sought her, she insisted on bestowing upon her the richest gifts which the magnificent presents of Attila had left at her disposal, and then requested that she and Gaudentius would not depart until the day succeeding her own nuptials. These took place in two days from thence: Ildico, magnificently clad, and sparkling with royal jewels, was conducted to the tent of Attila by a numerous band of women, who walked in files, and held aloft veils of thin white linen, which formed a kind of canopy, beneath which walked the bride, surrounded by a chorus of young maidens, who chanted hymns and songs in the Scythian language. The marriage ceremony was succeeded by a gorgeous feast, celebrated with barbaric pomp and festivity; on its conclusion, the bride was led to her chamber, at the threshold of which she dismissed her attendants, and turning round, tenderly embraced Serena, who could hardly avoid shrinking and shuddering at the expression of her eyes-it was an almost indescribable mixture of haughty triumph, wildness, resolution, and despair. Yet dazzled by her beauty and splendid appearance, none had marked that fearful expression but Serena. Attila indulged that night in wine, to a degree that was unusual in him, and was rather carried than led to his bridal chamber. His attendants were alarmed the next day by the unwonted length of his repose, and after attempting in vain to call him forth by loud and repeated cries, at last broke into the royal chamber, where they beheld the king stretched lifeless on the nuptial couch, bathed in the blood that flowed from a deep wound near the region of the heart. Beside the bed sat the bride wrapt in her veil, motionless as a statue, and still grasping firmly a small dagger stained to the very hilt with gore. She never spoke in answer to the questions put to her, and bore the tortures, to which the revenge of the Huns subjected her, with unshaken fortitude, dying with a smile of triumph on her lips. The body of Attila was solemnly exposed under a silken pavilion in the midst of a plain, whilst a chosen squadron of the Huns wheeled around him in measured evolutions, chanting a funeral hymn to the memory of their hero, the scourge of his enemies, and the terror of the world. The barbarians then cut off a part of their hair, and gashed their faces with unseemly wounds, bewailing their leader as they said he deserved, not with the tears of women, but with the blood of warriors. The remains of Attila were privately buried at night, enclosed in three coffins of gold, silver, and iron; a small river was turned from its course, a deep grave hollowed in its dry bed, the spoils of nations were thrown into it along with the royal body, the stream was allowed again to flow over it; and lest the spot should be known, and the sepulchre violated by avarice or revenge, every captive who had assisted in preparing it was inhumanly murdered, whilst the same Huns who had just shown such immoderate grief, feasted with dissolute and intemperate mirth on the banks of the river that flowed over and concealed the recent tomb of their monarch As the last acts of their king were held sacred, the liberty of Serena and Gaudentius was not disputed; they had no difficulty in leaving the camp, and returning to Orleans, found in their union a consolation for past sorrows, and spent a life of peace, and of still renewed and fervent gratitude to the divine power that had brought them through so many dangers into a haven of safe and happy rest; whilst they often reflected with pious awe on the inscrutable ways of Providence, which had first humbled the haughtiest of nations by the arm of a cruel barbarian, had permitted him to attain unlimited sway and power beyond all human control, and then, when his crimes and pride were at their height, in one instant, and by the weakest arm, had cut off from the face of the earth the unconquered Attila, "the scourge of God." " HOW TO MAKE A BARGAIN. SIR HENRY FANSHAWE had a horse that the then Earl of Exeter was much pleased with, and Sir Henry esteemed, because he deserved it. My lord, after some apology, desired Sir Henry to let him have his horse, and he would give him what he would. He replied, "My lord, I have no thoughts of selling him but to serve you: I bought him of such a person, and gave so much for him, and that shall be my price to you as I paid, being sixty picces.' My Lord Exeter said, "That's too much, but I will give you, Sir Henry, fifty." To which he made no answer. Next day, my lord sent a gentleman with sixty pieces; but Sir Henry made answer, "That was the price he paid, and once had offered him, my lord, at; but not being accepted, the price was now eighty." At the receiving of this answer, my Lord Exeter stormed, and sent his servant back with seventy pieces. Sir Henry said, that, since my lord would not like him at eighty pieces, he would not sell him under a hundred pieces; and if he returned with less, he would not sell him at all. Upon which my Lord Exeter sent one hundred pieces, and had the horse.-Lady Fanshawe's Memoirs. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. LADY FANSHAWE. LADY FANSHAWE, one of those noble-minded females whose characters are models for their sex, wrote a memoir of her life (in the year 1676,) for the instruction of her only surviving son, Sir Richard Fanshawe. The MS. of this work was preserved by her descendants; and at last was printed in 1829. From this publication, the following brief sketch is taken. "Your father," says Lady Fanshawe, addressing her son, “was Sir Richard Fanshawe, knight and baronet, one of the masters of the requests, secretary of the Latin tongue, burgess for the university of Cambridge, and one of his majesty's most honourable privy council of England and Ireland, and his majesty's ambassador to Portugal and Spain. He married me, the eldest daughter of Sir John Harrison, knight, of Balls, in the county of Hertford; he was married at thirty-five years of age, and lived with me twenty-three years and twenty-nine days, and lies buried in a new vault I purchased of Humphrey, lord bishop of London, in St. Mary's chapel of Ware, near his ancestors, over which I built him a monument." Lady Fanshawe was born in London, in the year 1625. In her youth she was taught working all sorts of fine work with her needle, learning French, singing, the lute, virginals, and dancing. "Notwithstanding," she says, "I learned as most did, yet was I wild to that degree, that the hours of my beloved recreation took up too much of my time; for I loved riding in the first place, running, and all active pastimes; in short, I was that which we graver people call a hoyting girl. But to be just to myself, I never did mischief to myself or people, nor one immodest word or action in my life, though skipping and activity was my delight. Upon my mother's death I then began to reflect; and, as an offering to her memory, I flung away those little childnesses that had formerly possessed me; and, by my father's command, took upon me charge of his house and family, which I so ordered by my excellent mother's example, as found acceptance in his sight. I was very well beloved by all our relations and my mother's friends, whom I paid a great respect to, and I was ever ambitious to keep the best company, which I have done, I thank God, all the days of my life. When the civil war broke out, Lady Fanshawe's father, Sir John Harrison, took the Royalist side; and, after being plundered of his property, went to Oxford in 1643, where the court then was. "My father commanded my sister and myself to come to him at Oxford; and we, that had till that hour lived in great plenty and great order, found ourselves like fishes out of the water, and the scene so changed, that we knew not at all how to act any part but obedience: for, from as good a house as any gentleman of England had, we came to a baker's house in an obscure street, and from rooms well furnished, to lie in a very bad bed in a garret, to one dish of meat, and that not the best ordered, no money, for we were as poor as Job, nor clothes more than a man or two brought in their cloak-bags. We had the perpetual discourse of losing and gaining towns and men; at the windows the sad spectacle of war, sometimes plague, sometimes sicknesses of other kind, by reason of so many people being packed together; always in want: yet I must needs say that most bore it with a martyr-like cheerfulness." Lady Fanshawe was married to Sir Richard Fanshawe in 1644. "None was at our wedding but my dear father, who, at my mother's desire, gave me her wedding-ring, with which I was married, and my sister Margaret, and my brother and sister Boteler, Sir Edward Hyde, afterwards Lord Chancellor, and Sir Geoffery Palmer, the king's attorney. Before I was married, my husband was sworn Secretary of War to the Prince [Charles II.] now our king, with a promise from Charles I. to be preferred as soon as occasion offered it, but both his fortune and my promised portion, which was made £10,000, were both at that time in expectation, and we might truly be called merchant adventurers, for the stock we set up our trading with did not amount to twenty pounds betwixt us: but, however, it was to us as a little piece of armour is against a bullet, which, if it be right placed, though no bigger than a shilling, serves as well as a whole suit of armour; so our stock bought pen, ink, and paper, which was your father's trade, and by it, I assure you, we lived better than those that were born to £2000 a year, as long as he had his liberty." Lady Fanshawe's husband, Sir Richard, had an adventure in his youth, which his wife thus narrates. He went over to Paris, to visit some relations, Lord Strangford, and others. "The whole stock he carried with him was eighty pieces of gold, and French silver to the value of five pounds in his pocket; his gold was quilted in his doublet; he went by post to lodgings in the Fauxbourg St. Germain, with an intent to rest that night, and the next day to find out his kindred: but the devil, that never sleeps, so ordered it, that two friars entered the chamber wherein he was, and welcoming him, being his countrymen, invited him to play, he innocently only intending diversion, till his supper was ready. But that was not their design, for having engaged him, they left him not as long as he was worth a groat, which, when they discovered, they gave him five pieces of his money until he could recruit himself by his friends, which he did the next day; and from that time forward never played for a piece. It came to pass that seven years after, my husband being in Huntingdonshire, at a bowling-green, with many persons of quality, one in the company was called Captain Taller. My husband, who had a very quick and piercing eye, marked him much, as knowing his face, and found, through his peruke wig, and scarlet cloak, and buff suit, that his name was neither Captain nor Taller, but the honest Jesuit called Friar Sherwood, that had cheated him of the greatest part of his money, and after had lent him the five pieces; so your father went to him, and gave him his five pieces, and said, 'Father Sherwood, I know you, and you know this;' at which he was extremely surprised, and begged of your father not to discover him, for his life was in danger." Lady Fanshawe's first child was a son, who died an infant of a few days old. At this time, her husband had been obliged to leave her, which, being their first separation, under critical circumstances, affected her very much, and she was ill for a considerable time. He sent for her, to come to him at Bristol; and when she arrived, "he with all expressions of joy received me in his arms, and gave me a hundred pieces of gold, saying, 'I know that thou, that keeps my heart so well, will keep my fortune, which from this time I will ever put into thy hands, as God shall bless me with increase.' And now I thought myself a perfect queen, and my hushand so glorious a crown, that I more valued myself to be called by his name than born a princess, for I knew him very wise and very good, and his soul doated on me, upon which confidence I will tell you what happened. My Lady Rivers, a brave woman, and one that had suffered many thousand pounds loss for the king, and whom I had a great reverence for, and she a kindness for me as a kinswoman, in discourse she tacitly commended the knowledge of state affairs, and that some women were very happy in a good understanding thereof, and that none was at first sight more capable than I. In the night she knew there came a post from Paris from the queen, and that she would be extremely glad to hear what the queen commanded the king in order to his affairs; saying, if I would ask my husband privately, he would tell me what he found in the packet, and I might tell her. I that was young and innocent, and to that day had never in my mouth what news, began to think there was more in inquiring in to public affairs than I thought of, and that it being a fashionable thing would make me more beloved of my husband, if that had been possible, than I was. When my husband returned home from council, after welcoming me, as his custom ever was, he went with his handful of papers into his study for an hour or more; I followed him; he turned hastily, and said, 'What wouldst thou have, my life?' I told him, I heard the prince had received a packet from the queen, and I guessed it was that in his hand, and I desired to know what was in it. He smilingly replied, 'My love, I will immediately come to thee, pray thee go, for I am very busy.' When he came out of his closet, I revived my suit; he kissed me, and talked of other things. At supper I would eat nothing; he as usual sat by me, and drank often to me, which was his custom, and was full of discourse to company that was at table. Going to bed, I asked again, and said I could not believe he loved me if he refused to tell me all he knew-but he answered nothing, but stopped my mouth with kisses. So we went to bed, I cried, and he went to sleep. Next morning, early, as his custom was, he called to rise, but began to discourse with me first, to which I made no reply; he rose, came on the other side of the bed, and kissed me, and drew the curtains softly, and went to court. When he came home to dinner, he presently came to me, as was usual, and when I had him by the hand, I said, 'Thou dost not care to see me troubled,' to which he, taking me in his arms, answered, My dearest soul, nothing on earth can afflict me like that, and when you asked me of my business, it was wholly out of my power to satisfy thee: for my life and fortune shall be thine, and every thought of my heart in which the trust I am in may not be revealed; but my honour is my own, which I cannot preserve, if I communicate the prince's affairs; and pray thee with this answer rest satisfied.' So great was his reason and goodness, that upon consideration it made my folly appear to me so vile, that from that day until the day of his death, I never thought fit to ask him any business but what he communicated freely to me in order to his estate or family." "From The plague increased so much in Bristol during the summer of 1645, that the prince and all his retinue went to Barnstaple. "But the prince's affairs calling him from that place, we went to Launceston, in Cornwall, and thither came very many gentlemen of that county to do their duties to his highness.' thence the court removed to Pendennis Castle, some time commanded by Sir Nicholas Slanning, who lost his life bravely in the king's service, and left an excellent name behind him." Another remove was considered necessary; the prince crossing from the Lands-end to the Scilly Isles, followed, among others, by Sir Richard Fanshawe and his wife. Besides being obliged to leave household valuables in the care of a false friend, who never accounted for them, (though Lady Fanshawe estimated their value at 2007.) they were robbed on their passage. "We having put all our present estate into two trunks, and carried them aboard with us in a ship commanded by Sir Nicholas Crispe, whose skill and honesty the master and seamen had no opinion of, my husband was forced to appease their mutiny which his miscarriage caused; and taking out money to pay the seamen, that night following they broke open one of our trunks, and took out a bag of 60%. and a quantity of gold lace, with our best clothes and linen, with all my combs, gloves, and ribbons, which amounted to near 3007. more. The next day, after having been pillaged, and extremely sick, and big with child, I was set on shore almost dead in the Island of Scilly; when we had got to our quarters near the castle, where the prince lay, I went immediately to bed, which was so vile, that my footman ever lay in a better, and we had but three in the whole house, which consisted of four rooms, or rather partitions, two low rooms, and two little lofts, with a ladder to go up in one of these they kept dried fish, which was his trade, and in this my husband's two clerks lay, one there was for my sister, and one for myself, and one amongst the rest of the servants; but when I waked in the morning, I was so cold I knew not what to do; but the daylight discovered that my bed was near swimming with the sea, which the owner told us afterwards it never did so but at springtide. With this we were destitute of clothes, and meat, and fuel -for half the court, to serve them a month; they were not to be had in the whole island, and truly we begged our daily bread of God, for we thought every meal our last. The council sent for provisions to France, which served us, but they were bad, and a little of them; then, after three weeks and odd days, we set sail for the Isle of Jersey, where we safely arrived, praised be God, beyond the belief of all the beholders from that island; for the pilot not knowing the way into the harbour, sailed over the rocks, but being spring-tide, and by chance high water, God be praised, his highness and all of us came safe ashore through so great a danger. Sir George Carteret was lieutenant-governor of the island, under my lord St. Albans, a man formerly bred a sea-boy, and born in that island, the brother's son of Sir Philip Carteret, whose younger daughter he afterwards married. He endeavoured, with all his power, to entertain his highness and court with all plenty and kindness possible, both which the island afforded, and what was wanting he sent for out of France." Lady Fanshawe's second child was born in Jersey. Sir Richard lost his situation when the prince went from Jersey to Paris. He afterwards went over to Caen, and from thence sent his wife to England, to try and raise money out of the wreck of their fortunes. "This was the first time I had taken a journey without your father, and the first manage of business he ever put into my hands, in which I thank God I had complete success; for lodging in Fleet-street, at Mr. Eates the watchmaker, with my sister Boteler, I procured by the means of Colonel Copley, a great parliament man, whose wife had formerly been obliged to our family, a pass for your father to come and compound for 3007., which was a part of my fortune. When your father was come he was very private in London, for he was in daily fears to be imprisoned before he could raise money to go back again to his master, who was not then in a condition to maintain him." While Charles I. was at Hampton Court, shortly before his execution, Lady Fanshawe "went three times to pay my duty to him, both as I was the daughter of his servant, and the wife of his servant. The last time I ever saw him, when I took my leave, I could not refrain weeping: when he had saluted me, I prayed to God to preserve his majesty with long life and happy years; he I atted me on the cheek, and said, Child, if God pleaseth it shall ie so, but both you and I must submit to God's will, and you know in what hands I am in,' then turning to your father, he faid, 'Be sure, Dick, to tell my son all that I have said, and deliver those letters to my wife; pray God bless her! I hope I shall do well;' and taking him in his arms, said, 'Thou hast ever | been an honest man, and I hope God will bless thee, and make thee a happy servant to my son, whom I have charged in my letter to continue his love and trust to you;' adding, 'I do promise you, that if ever I am restored to my digrity I will bountifully reward you both for your service and sufferings.' Thus did we part from that glorious sun, that within a few months after was murdered, to the grief of all Christians that were not forsaken by God." 64 We reluctantly pass over Lady Fanshawe's adventures, as told by herself, for our space is limited. She followed her husband to France, where she lived for some time in Paris amongst the suite of the royal refugees. Sir Richard then sent her to England once more, to try to raise money. She afterwards met him in Ireland, where they spent some months, living in a house near Cork. The news of Cromwell coming over to reduce Ireland compelled them to shift their quarters. During this time," she says, in her own exquisitely unaffected language, "I had, by the fall of a stumbling horse (being with child), broke my left wrist, which, because it was ill-set, put me to great and long pain, and I was in my bed when Cork revolted. By chance that day my husband was gone on business to Kinsale: it was in the beginning of November, 1650. At midnight I heard the great guns go off, and thereupon I called up my family to rise, which I did as well as I could in that condition. Hearing lamentable shrieks of men, women, and children, I asked at a window the cause; they told me they were all Irish, stripped and wounded, and turned out of the town, and that Colonel Jeffries, with some others, had possessed themselves of the town for Cromwell." She obtained a pass from Jeffries, but Cromwell was disappointed, when he was informed that the Fanshawes had been allowed to escape. Sir Richard Fanshawe was sent by the prince (now Charles II.) to Spain, with letters to Philip IV., and his ambassadors at the Spanish court-Lord Cottington and Sir Edward Hyde. On their voyage, the ship in which they sailed was menaced by a Turkish galley. The women were ordered to keep below. "This beast (the captain) locked me up in the cabin: I knocked and called long to no purpose, until at length the cabin-boy came and opened the door. I, all in tears, begged him to be so good as to give me his blue thrum cap he wore, and his tarred coat; which he did, and I gave him half-a-crown; and putting them on, and flinging away my night-clothes, I crept up softly, and stood upon the deck by my husband's side, as free from sickness and fear as, I confess, from discretion: but it was the effect of that passion which I could never master." The "Turks' man-of-war" tacked about, unwilling to engage ; and, "when your father saw it convenient to retreat, looking upon me, he blessed himself, and snatched me up in his arms, saying, 'Good God! that love can make this change!' and, though he seemingly chid me, he would laugh at it as often as he remembered that voyage." Sir Richard Fanshawe was unsuccessful in his mission to the Spanish court, which was to raise a sum of money. He returned to France towards the end of the year 1650. He afterwards joined Charles II. and the royalist forces in Scotland, while his wife went secretly to London. Here she remained seven months, "and in that time I did not go abroad seven times." At last she received intelligence that her husband was taken prisoner at the battle of Worcester. He was brought to London, and kept "in a little room in a bowling green," at Whitehall; and, during his imprisonment, Lady Fanshawe "failed not constantly to go, when the clock struck four in the morning, with a dark lantern in my hand, all alone and on foot, from my lodging in Chancery-lane, to Whitehall, in at the entry that went out of King-street into the bowling-green. There I would go under his window, and softly call him; he (after the first time excepted) never failed to put out his head at the first call. Thus we talked together; and sometimes I was so wet with the rain, that it went in at my neck and out at my heels. He directed me how I should make my addresses, which I ever did, to their general, Cromwell, who had a great respect for your father, and would have bought him off to his service upon any terms. metropolis. During this period of eight years, both Sir Richard and Lady Fanshawe suffered from personal illnesses and family bereavements. On the news of Cromwell's death, in 1658, Sir Richard, on pretence of becoming tutor to the son of the Earl of Pembroke, whilst on his travels, obtained leave to quit England. Lady Fanshawe tried to get leave to join him, but was told that her husband had obtained his liberty by a trick, but that neither she nor her children should stir. She then went to the office where passes were granted; and, "with as ill mien and tone as I could express, I told a fellow I found in the office, that I desired a pass for Paris to go to my husband. 'Woman, what is your husband and your name?' 'Sir,' said I, with many courtesies, 'he is a young merchant, and my name is Ann Harrison.' [Her maiden name.] 'Well,' said he, it will cost you a crown.' I, That is a great sum for me; but pray put in a man, my maid, and three children :' all which he immediately did, telling me a malignant would give him five pounds for such a pass. Said "I thanked him kindly, and so went immediately to my lodg ings; and with my pen I made the great H of Harrison two ff, and the rrs an n, and the i an s, and the s an h, and the o a w, so completely that none could find out the change. With all speed I hired a barge, and that night, at six o'clock, I went to Gravesend, and from thence by coach to Dover, where, upon my arrival, the searchers came and demanded my pass, which they were to keep for their discharge. When they had read it, they said, 'Madam, you may go when you please.'' But, says one, 'I little thought they would give a pass to so great a malignant, especially in so troublesome a time as this."" She got over to Calais, and had narrowly escaped detention; for, her leaving London having been known, "a post was sent to stay me." Sir Richard and Lady Fanshawe had an interview with Charles II., at Combes, near Paris. At the restoration, they returned with him to England. "So great were the acclamations and numbers of people, that it reached like one street from Dover to Whitehall. We lay that night at Dover, and the next day we went in Sir Arnold Brem's coach towards London, where, on Sunday night, we came to a house in the Savoy. My niece, Fanshawe, then lay in the Strand, where I stood to see the king's entry with his brothers, surely the most pompous show that ever was; for the hearts of all men in this kingdom moved at his will.” Sir Richard Fanshawe was returned to Parliament for the university of Cambridge. He was afterwards sent to Portugal twice, on special missions; and, in 1664, was appointed ambassador to the court of Madrid. In 1665 he was recalled, through the intrigues (as Lady Fanshawe affirms) of "the Lord Chancellor Clarendon and his party," and the Earl of Sandwich sent in his place. After Sir Richard had introduced the earl to the Spanish court, and was preparing for his journey from Madrid to England, he" was taken ill with an ague, but turned to malignant fever," of which he died; and Lady Fanshawe had the melancholy task of sending his body to England; where she herself, with her family, shortly afterwards arrived. The rest of her life was spent in seclusion. Her affections, deprived of their chief, concentrated themselves on her family, and for the use of her son she wrote her autobiography. She died on the 20th of January, 1618, in her fifty-fifth year. Thus think, then drink tobacco. By her exertions, Sir Richard was allowed to go out on bail. During the whole term of Cromwell's protectorate, they lived in retirement, in different parts of England, but mostly in London; he, at one time, being forbidden to go five miles beyond the From the Bannatyne MS. in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh. ANIMAL MAGNETISM. NO. III. FURTHER PROGRESS OF ANIMAL MAGNETISM, WITH ITS vidual nobles and clergy who had escaped. The French revolution had now broken out, and Anarchy commenced her reign of terror and blood. Like others of his order, the Marquis de Puységur was obliged to attend to his personal safety. His practice of animal The same cause put an end to the labours of all contemporary magnetism was therefore suspended until more favourable times. professors of the same art, and the practice of somnambulism was known only by name as a thing which had existed. arose. During the exacerbation of the revolutionary fever, animal magnetism slept the slumber of neglect, without evincing either somnambulism or somniloquacity. But a new order of things anarchy, constructed a strong and protecting government, which The genius of Napoleon Bonaparte having overthrown admitted to a certain station, in the new form which society had naturally assumed in France, the still surviving remnant of the old order of nobles. No sooner was the imperial government estalabours, and the mysteries of somnambulism began once more to influence not almost exclusively confined, as before, to high-born exercise a certain influence, especially among the fair sex,-an lords and dames, but extending to all classes. The art of magnetising had soon many eminent professors, who, refining upon the labours of M. de Puységur, but acting with no better discrimination, have, in the course of the last thirty years, raised animal magnetism to the eminence upon which it now stands, as an object of merited ridicule to the whole world. THE announcement of the discovery of magnetic somnambulism, together with a string of facts corroborative of the power it conferred of supplying the deficiencies of medical science, caused a prodigious sensation in the French capital. Fashion again seized upon animal magnetism, and, in spite of the opposition of the medical profession, whose members were at length compelled to yield, whilst many of them began to practise the new art, every one flocked to the priestesses of somnambulism, to discover, from their oracles, the unknown disease with which he was afflicted. Two treatises, long since forgotten, were written to show that the Delphic oracles of old were given under the effect of animal mag-blished, than the Marquis de Puységur resumed his magnetic netism; one enthusiast even went so far as to allege that this was the agent employed by our Saviour in curing diseases. Extensive establishments were now formed for the convenience of magnetisers, somnambulists, and their patients. Here the oracles were delivered by sleeping virgins, under the control of the directing magnetiser of each institution. Quacks and cheats, who had exhausted their former means of imposition, found a never-failing resource in magnetic somnambulism, which ought to have been designated “Puységurism." The more sensible portion of the community, and more especially the men of talent belonging to the plebeian order, threw excessive ridicule upon these establishments, which, however, were ultimately converted to the most disgustingly immoral purposes. Flattered by the success of his discovery, which, in his own opinion, ranked him among the best benefactors of the human race, M. de Puységur spared no exertions in bringing it to perfection; thereby adding, as he believed, fresh wreaths to those which already shaded his brow. He had now numerous disciples, who soon became competitors. Each, in search of new effects, advanced in a path of his own making; but every path so made converged to the common centre of psychological absurdity, which now covers animal magnetism with a hard and thick crust, that conceals the real gem, and, from the difficulty of its removal, has hitherto proved an obstacle to the impartial examination of the latter. Meanwhile, the reign of Louis XV. having closed, his grandson, Louis XVI. had ascended the French throne. This was a virtuous but weak prince, with good intentions, but unable to resist a torrent which had been gradually swelling under the misgovernment of his predecessors, and was ready to sweep away the French monarchy. The finances of the country had been exhausted by the profligate expenditure of Louis XIV. and his successor Louis XV. This latter king had reigned as if all he cared about was the holding together of the monarchy during his lifetime. The nobles had also imperceptibly undermined the inner foundations of the formidable barrier that protected their order, to which the clergy were naturally united. The bondsmen of feudal despotism had, in the mean time, acquired some knowledge of their social rights. The plebeian order were more than ever bowed to the earth with the weight of the state burthens, whilst the privileged nobles were in the enjoyment of patents and pensions, and of certain imposts granted to them by the monarch, and levied upon objects, not only of luxury, but of necessity, consumed by the people. As a climax to these evils, the national bankruptcy, long inevitable, notwithstanding the exertions of that political quack and overrated statesman, M. Necker, the father of the celebrated Madame de Staël, became a reality, and hundreds of thousands of families were ruined. All these circumstances concurred to rouse the despairing energies of the suffering people, and the external pressure upon the edifice which separated the orders became so strong that the barrier fell inward with a tremendous crash, crushing and destroying, as it fell, the whole order of nobles, and with them the priests, both of whom it had originally protected, -and even reaching and overturning the throne itself. The populace sprang upon the prostrate ruins, destroying those indi aid of the pretended science. The exaggerated and credulous en- Amongst these pretended effects, we may designate the following:-The unlettered somnambulist, under the influence of magnetic sleep, can not only detect disease which is imperceptible to the medical practitioner, but point out the means of cure. During the operation of magnetic sleep, the somnambulist can perfectly and distinctly perceive, and understand, the whole of the internal organs and complicated machinery of the human body, or that of any anima!: she-for, as we have stated, the somnambulists are generally girls-can likewise see through a thick wall; she can also see any objects, or read writing presented to or laid upon her abdomen, her back, or any other part of her body, her eyes being closed all the while. The sleeper, under magnetic influence, who possesses the gift of somnambulism, can actually read the past, the present, and sometimes the future, and also the magnetiser's thoughts, replying in an audible voice to questions he has asked only mentally; for there is between the magnetiser and every person he magnetises, whether the latter be gifted with somnambulism or not, a psychological connexion,-or "a communion of souls," as it has been termed. The magnetiser possesses an absolute power for ever over the mind of a person he has once magnetised, "having subdued that mind to the volition of his own;" and this influence extends to any distance, from a neighbouring room to the remotest parts of the earth. Thus, patient, thousands of miles off,-produce sleep, and, if the thus at his will, the magnetiser can operate upon his unconscious magnetised person possess the faculty of somnambulism, force an audible reply to any question asked mentally; the "communion of souls" defying the restraint imposed by the space of distance. The magnetiser has equally the power of depriving the magnetised, whether near or at distance, of all sensation. It will hardly be credited that these wonders (our account of which is in no wise exaggerated) form points of the sincerest faith among the believers in the animal magnetism of which we have offered a sketch. Though, perhaps, Dr. Elliotson has not avowed his belief in these facts so openly as we have stated them, still his experiments at the North London Hospital were intended to furnish evidence of every one of them; and much evil would have ensued, had not Mr. Wakley detected and exposed the imposition practised, by the pretended somnambulists, upon the doctor. We have a high respect for Dr. Elliotson; we consider him a clever and useful practitioner, likely to have occupied one of the highest stations in his profession, but for this unwonted credulity, and its |