Sir Valentine,

About two hours previous to the fortunate consummation of De Lacy's enterprise, the King had unexpectedly returned from Gloucester, and having remained about half an hour in the Queen's apartments, returned to his closet, from whence he sent to require the attendance of Sir Everard Ashley, who on entering the presence, found the King, a storm lowering on his brow, walking up and down the chamber. "This is a strange business, Ashley," said the King, as the governor made his obeisance, "that the Queen has communicated to me-what could induce you to withhold your support from this small, and I dread useless force which has ventured to the relief of Basing?" "Your orders to me, so please your majesty," replied Sir Everard, "although doubtless they were in a great degree discretionary, neverthe less pointed mainly to the especial care of the Queen's person, and the safety of this place, both of which, in my humble opinion, were endangered, even by the force that has been sent to have added more would, as I hold it, have subjected me to the imputation of indiscretion, which my enemies would not have failed to urge to my disadvantage." "Under such impressions why did you not communicate with me at the first; you know the great personal friendship I entertain for Winchester, and the importance of his command-but setting all this aside I should have imagined that you would have been irresistibly impelled personally to endeavour the release of your friends, and you must know me well enough to be assured you could not have undertaken a service more to my heart." "I never yet, Sire, permitted the claims of private friendship

Two Gentlemen of Verona.

Sir

to interfere with my public duty," replied the governor," as to a nearer or dearer influence, which I humbly presume your majesty alludes to, that has long since ceased to exist." "God send, Sir," said the King, in a manner peculiar to him when much displeased, "that although you are deaf to the call of friendship, you have not suffered one of my best friends, and the important post he occupied to be sacrificed to the caprice of private pique." Everard now perceived that the King was irrecoverably displeased, and as he knew that all voices would be raised against him, he determined to anticipate and mitigate the violence of the fall which he saw awaited him, and he replied, "I had hoped your majesty's intimate knowledge and good opinion of me would have prevented such a painful surmise, and if former recollections give me any claim to your Majesty's indulgence, I have a trifling request to prefer." What is it? demanded the King in the most ungracious tone and manner possible."That your majesty will, in your goodness, permit me to resign this unfortunate command, which has proved irreconcileable with your gracious pleasure and my mistaken sense of duty to fulfil," replied Sir Everard. "I perceive," said the King, "that one of the qualities I gave you credit for, still appertains to you; your penetration has done well to anticipate that, which as you have placed me, (and end this desperate business how it may) it would have been impossible to have refused. The family you have so strangely offended are too powerful for me to turn a deaf ear to." "I have fearlessly done my duty, Sire," observed Ashley, "the case was too desperate for any relief

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in my power to have afforded; and as for the adventure in hand, it is nothing but the romantic errantry of a lovesick man." The King was about to reply, when the door opened, and soiled with blood and dust, for he wore the same clothes as in the action, and pale and haggard with fatigue and pain, the Marquess of Winchester almost staggered into the room. The King caught him immediately in his arms, saying: "Thank Heaven! however the tide of fortune runs against our cause, I see you at least, although thus, in safety-and your daughter?" My daughter! heaven prosper your Majesty," replied the Marquess, is, like me, fatigued and harrassed, but yet safe, and amply repaid for any suffering we have undergone by this condescending this generous solicitude; and, blessed be Provdence, I can cheer your Majesty's noble heart-Basing-house not only maintains its imposing situation, but Norton's force is soundly beaten and dispersed." **God's grace !" said the King, "but how?" "Your Majesty must be aware, that over-partiality to Colonel De Lacy will not gild my short but pleasing tale," answered the Marquess, "but in justice to that officer I must say, that the unhoped-for result of this extraordinary enterprize, is owing to the comprehensive abilities, and cool courage which have marked his conduct in every stage of the undertaking." "It is a brilliant action," replied the King," he has performed the most acceptable service a subject could render to his prince, and I swear that I will reward him to the utmost of my power." Then turning to the exgovernor, who was fixed to the spot he stood on, as if incapable of speech or motion, the fury passions labouring like volcanic fire in his bad heart, the King added, with marked point and expression of countenance, "you see, Sir, an issue of love-sick errantry, alike shaming and disappointing the cold calculations of your stern duty. may I ever find LOVE and LOYALTY united in my service." Recovering, however, from his embarrassment, Sir Everard who, like men to be found in all times, could, “smile, and smile, and be a villain," approached the Marquess of Winchester, and affected no ordinary joy at his safety, but he found the temperature here also at the freezVOL. I.

ing point, and he hastily withdrew, not only from the presence of the King, but from the court altogether.

Our lady readers, whom we are most solicitous to please, are doubtless anxiously looking forward to that usual consummation of novel, tale, romance, and comedy-a wedding; and we shall keep them no longer on the high-toned pitch of curiosity and expectation, so a wedding they shall have. The Marquess of Winchester, although he could not deny the merits of the gallant De Lacy, or that to his courage and his love, he owed the rescue of himself and the Lady Eleanor from that bondage or death to which Ashley had coolly consigned them, was still affected by the disappointment of his early and cherished plans in the union of his daughter with his ward, and, at the pressing instances of the King and Queen, in which the Marchioness joined, gave reluctant consent to his daughter's hand being bestowed on him who had, indeed, truly and bravely won it. His pride pleaded objection to the Irish adventurer, although, if circumstances had permitted, it would not have been revolted by the English scoundrel.

The wound inflicted on pride and family aggrandizement was yet too sorely sensitive to permit him to be present at the marriage ceremony, so he placed his daughter at the disposal of the King, and, his strength considerably restored, he returned to Basing-house.

Here, for the first time, we editorially quarrel with the narrator of this, all throughout most interesting tale. He has most unaccountably omitted to detail all the particulars of the wedding, such as in the good old times made it a matter nearly of as great importance as a coronation, although with better observance of oaths and vows. He gives us none of "the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious matrimony,” when

4 Q

are roasted whole, no conduits flow with wine, but the whole business is passed over as silently as if the blessing of the Priest on honorable and faithful love was a thing to be ashamed of. The narrator, indeed, states that the King gave away the hand of Lady Eleanor, and that the Queen and the Marchioness supported her through the pleasing agitation of the ceremony. He tells us that Lester officiated as bridegroom to De Lacy, but not one word does he mention of the "lovely dears" who performed that office of delightful anticipation for Lady Eleanor: whether the bride rustled in stately silk or brocade-swam dignified in rich folds of velvet, or, as we more commonly have it now adays, "looked lovely in a veil and robe of matchless lace," is for ever lost, sunk in the abyss of the past. Should, therefore, any of the brilliant orbs of "heavenly hue" which we trust will skim over these pages to relieve the langour of having nothing to do, seek an elucidation of this mystery of omissiveness, we must refer them to their mirrors in that pleasing moment when, equipped to their mind, and not a grace left unimproved, they are armed for conquest.

With regard to any gentleman, young or not young, or among that numerous class who forget and would have others forget that they are old, who may have a similar curiosity, he may probably gratify it by an examination of Sir Peter Lely's portraits of the distinguished Beauties of those days, and, perhaps, stumble on that of the fair cause of this digression. There was a feature of the marriage ceremony which was not for gotten to be recorded, and which was too valuable not to be remembered. The officiating Priest on the occasion was-not Father Denis, for the Winchesters were as good and staunch Protestants as they were Royalists, but -the celebrated Jeremy Taylor, who, at that time, was in attendance at the Court, and not the less esteemed by

Charles because he occasionally and fearlessly uttered home truths from the pulpit without respect of persons, and indulged in hard flings at Popery notwithstanding the presence of the Queen. But Jeremy was no fanatic; to avoid the abomination of contact with the Harlot of the Seven Hills, he would not fly to the extreme of independence, and, to use the words of Shakspeare, "it would puzzle the will" to find out which he hated most, the Papist or the Roundhead, but still he was actuated by the Christian Charity of the modern Orangeman, whose creed, spiritual and political, is combined of the word of God and the law of the land. At the conclusion of the marriage ceremony, the eccentric and talented Jeremy thought fit to give to the wedded pair, and all those in attendance, a lecture or exhortation suited to the occasion, and which he afterwards enlarged into the sermon now known in his published works under the title of "The Wedding Ring." Of its effect upon the good Divine's auditory, the tale furnishes no evidence, but that his frequent quotations from the Greek and Latin classics were, by the young Cavaliers present, considered a pedantic bore, (the feeling, but not the terin, was known then as it is now) and the Ladies blushed and tittered behind their fans, being under the impression that he was giving advice or reproof which could not be conveyed in plain downright English to ears polite."

Shall we leave the imagination of our readers to dwell at this pleasant place of rest? Shall we part from them at this "Leaf of the Old Almanack," margined with the glow of blushing happiness; or, mingling the cypress wreath with the marriage garland, carry them on to that ensanguined page which tells of the consummated crimes of democracy-false statesmen, a rebel people, and a martyr King? No, we let the curtain fall-our tale of and Loyalty" ends here.

Love