Varney, with the air of a man altogether overwhelmed with grief and confusion, prostrated himself before her feet, exclaiming, "Pardon, my Liege, pardon !—or, at least, let your justice avenge itself on me, where it is due; but spare my noble, my generous, my innocent patron and master!"

Amy, who was yet kneeling, started up as she saw the man, whom she deemed most odious, place himself so near her, and was about to fly towards Leicester, when, checked at once by the uncertainty and even timidity, which his looks had re-assumed as soon as the appearance of his confidant seemed to open a new scene, she hung back, and, uttering a faint scream, besought of her Majesty to cause her to be imprisoned in the lowest dungeon of the castle, to deal with her as the worst of criminals ;-"but spare," she exclaimed," my sight and hearing, what will destroy the little judgment I have left the sight of that unutterable and most shameless villain !"

And why, sweetheart?" said the Queen, moved by a new impulse; "what hath he, this false knight, since such thou accountest him, done to thee?"

"Oh, worse than sorrow, madam, and worse than injury-he has sown dissention where most there should be peace. I shall go mad if I look longer on him."

"Beshrew me, but I think thou art distraught already," answered the Queen." My Lord Hunsdon, look to this poor distressed young woman, and let her be safely bestowed, and in honest keeping, till we require her to be forthcoming."

Two or three of the ladies in attendance, either moved by compassion for a creature so interesting, or by some other motive, offered their service to look after her; but the Queen briefly answered, “Ladies, under favour, no.-You have all (give God thanks) sharp ears and nimble tongues-our kinsman Hunsdon has ears of the dullest, and a tongue somewhat rough, but yet of the slowest. Hunsdon, look to it that none have speech of her."

"By our Lady!" said Hunsdon, taking in his strong sinewy arms the fading and almost swooning form of Amy," she is a lovely child; and though a rough nurse, your Grace hath given her a kind one. She is safe with me as one of my own lady-birds of daughters."

So saying, he carried her off, unresisting and almost unconscious; his war-worn locks and long grey beard mingling with her lightbrown tresses, as her head reclined on his strong square shoulder. The Queen followed him with her eye-she had already, with that self-command, which forms so necessary a part of a Sovereign's accomplishments, suppressed every appearance of agitation, and seemed as if she desired to banish all traces of her burst of passion from the recollection of those, who had witnessed it. "My Lord of Hunsdon," she said, "is but a rough nurse for so tender a babe."

66

My Lord of Hunsdon," said the Dean of St. Asaph, "I speak it not in defamation of his more noble qualities, hath a broad licence in speech, and garnishes his discourse somewhat too freely with the cruel and superstitious oaths, which savour both of profaneness and of old papestrie."

"It is the fault of his blood, Mr. Dean," said the Queen, turning sharply round upon the reverend dignitary as she spoke; "and you may blame mine for the same distemperature. The Boleyns were ever a hot and plain-spoken race, more hasty to speak their mind, than careful to choose their expressions. And by my word-I hope there is no sin in that affirmation-I question if it were much cooled by mixing with that of Tudor."

"As she made this last observation, she smiled graciously, and stole her eyes almost insensibly round to seek those of the Earl of Leicester, to whom she now began to think she had spoken with hasty harshness, upon the unfounded suspicion of a moment."

In the vigorous delineation of character, this novel, if inferior to the earliest works of its author, is far richer than most of his later productions. Besides the historical portraits of the Queen and Leicester, which are executed with great skill, there are several persons, whom the reader has not recognised before, but who are now individualized in his mind for ever. We cannot forget Anthony Foster, the fire and faggot zealot, who mingles religion so strangely with his villainy or his innocent daughter, Janet, who makes puritanism amends for the discredit brought on it by her father-or Varney, whose terrible atrocities are rendered more fearful, by his horrid smoothness and courtierlike demeanour-or Michael Lambourne, the best, perhaps, of the whole, whose easy virtue and gay vulgarity are redeemed by the spirit of joyousness and lusty life, which breathes through all his speeches and actions. Kenilworth, thus rich in characteristic delineation, is chiefly wanting in that tinge of poetry, and those pure humanities, which have so softened and elevated the effect of the author's earlier romances. There is no being of great moral or intellectual nobleness; no image of angelical loveliness, like that of Rebecca-or of stern and lowly beauty, like that of Jenny Deans; nor even any high uprisings and momentary triumphs of goodness, in the bosoms of the darker of its persons. The verisimilitude, too, of the scenes, though often complete, is produced by a number of minute touches, rather than by those bold master-strokes, which have come so often from his pencil. On the whole, the work displays almost as wonderful a power of realizing to us distant times and persons, as any of its author's romances; but it wants the best and most permanent charm of his earlier writings-that spirit of good, which, in them, was felt to be ever present, shedding a more than magical lustre on all things.

LINES FOR THE BUST OF MILTON.

IN the amphitheatre at Mount Edgcumbe, is erected a small Grecian temple, in which is placed a bust of Milton, with an inscription from Paradise Lost," which one could almost imagine was written on this very spot, every part of the scene so well agreeing,ev grobimo z197 989113

1

MNL PHPLŐver head up grew

1

'Insuperable height of loftiest shade, 1Cedar and fir, and pine and branching palm:1 hub? A sylvan scene! and as the ranks ascend gehatra vega Shade above shade, a woody theatre

Of stateliest view!ialdira zudteed doily zu'î Nothing appeared wanting to complete the magical effect of the whole, but an Æolian harp; and "on this hint" were w written' the following lines :

And well, O Milton! is thine honour'd bust

Placed the deep twilight of these woods among
For, though far off repose the Poet's dust,
Here lingers still the spirit of his song:

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And oft, at eve, these high arcades along, # 969 mei “attal

nord To Fancy's dreaming eye his form will glide;

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enzor While ev'n the depth of stillness finds a tongue,y the 976 And sounds unearthly float upon the tide,

fubOr in faint murmurs die along the dark hill-side. {

toid arthy, O why, in such a scene, is mute Yet why

That lyre, which scorns the touch of mortal handThe lyre of Heaven---the wandering Ariel's lute, Which fairy fingers all alone have spann'd, And the pure Zephyr's waving breath hath fann'd? "Twere sweet to catch its tones when, still and dim, The beauty-breathing hues of eve expand; When day's last roses fade on occan's brim b' q And Nature veils her brow, and chaunts her vesper hymn. 2017 BCG Sued xez dusitze 9ft of,D'ets (boi) Sweet were that sound, at night, to many a band rembë band Aat of That beats, with printless steps, the glimmering wave; Sweetly 'twould linger o'er the moonlight sand, To him, who loves to tread where waters lave, Wil alode zo fas And dream of that, which spurns the peaceful grave; And sweetly would it fill the pauses deep, 0 molog late! When Autumn night-winds cease awhile to rave, vam ob and Jus Or in low moanings hush themselves to sleep, quieros bite While listening woods and waves a holy) concord keepono t el ad gou binois aut vor bapa tomuso l

ORIGINAL LETTERS, No. 1.

Having obtained access to a collection of highly interesting Original Letters, in the hand-writing of some of the most eminent men of former times; we feel great pleasure in commencing a series of extracts from these very curious volumes, which we purpose to continue occasionally, as our limits may permit, accompanying each letter by a fac-simile of its signature.

The value of this acquisition will, we have no doubt, be duly appreciated by our readers; whilst for ourselves we must candidly acknowledge, that we feel deeply indebted to that gentlemanly feeling, which has thus kindly admitted us to the privilege of selecting from documents, which could only have been obtained under peculiar circumstances, and by the most assiduous researches during a long period of time,

To choose from among the many mighty names before us, is, we find, a task by no means easy; for among them we discover many of our most eminent statesmen, patriots, philosophers, orators, poets, and divines. We will begin, however, with a letter from one who united, in himself, most of these charactersthe amiable John Evelyn, whose memoirs, recently published, have attracted universal attention. He was a zealous royalist, and went abroad during the civil troubles in the reign of Charles 1. At the restoration he returned to England, and died at Wotton in Surrey, Feb. 27, 1706. He was as remarkable for the solidity of his judgment, as for the piety and integrity of his heart.

1.

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John Evelyn to Abp. Tenison..

My Reu'd Lord,

Being now (thro' the infinite elemency of a gratious God) ariv'd to the sixtieth yeare of my age; I haue (upon very serious consideration) thought it absolutely necessary, to make a more accurate discussion and search into all the passages of my whole life, to this large, period: and that what I haue but passages hitherto don perhaps (yea, doubtlesse) too partialy, and upon solemn occasions chiefely, with greate infirmities, I might now do universaly, and so as I would desire to haue my last audite and accompts stated, when God shall calle me to die; and haue then onely that work (which is also a very greate one) to finish. I cannot expect my time should now be long in this world. By the course of Nature (tho', blessed be God, I haue enjoy'd wonderfull health of body) I must, and do now, looke when my change shall come; and I would not be surpriz'd (as I perceiue daily

most men are) with either weakenesse, paine or stupidity, which render them exceedingly indispos'd for the finishing of any thing of this nature, and altogether for beginning of it with any certaine comfort. To put this then to adventure, I haue not the courage; and do therefore endeavoure so to prepare, that I may haue nothing then to do, but resigne myselfe wholy to the mercifull Jesus. I haue now ben in this exercise some time; but find greate necessitie of your prayers, which I beg that you will send up for me in particular, that God will especialy soften my heart, pardon my greate sinnes, accept and sanctifie my purposes of so living, as I may die his servant, and behold his glorious presence with joy. And if it were not too bold an interruption, I would also humbly desire to know, about what houre to-morrow in the evening, or Saturday, I might waite upon you with least inconveniency; for I know you are full of buisinesses-but you are also full of charity; and it would be no small consolation to me at this time, to receive more particularly the seale of remission from y'r ministry, and discerning spirit, and (I am perswaded) extraordinary power with God, full of holy compassion as you are. I humbly implore your L'ps. prayers and blessing, and remaine Yr L'ps. most dutifull Servant,

To Dr. Thomas Tenison,

Archbishop of Canterbury.

Burlin:

The following letters from Prior are penned in that light and easy style, which is so visible in his writings. He was, as is well known, both a poet and a courtier, having been secretary of embassy at the Hague in 1691, and at the court of France, to conclude the treaty of Ryswick, in 1697. In 1711-12 the conferences at Utrecht began: and Prior followed Lord Bolingbroke to Paris, where he continued, until the Duke of Shrewsbury came. over and returned to England, when he assumed the title and. style of Ambassador. In 1713, he lived in full dignity at the French Court, though he appears to have been subjected to great mortifications, in consequence of his not receiving regular remittances from his government. In August 1714, when he was recalled, he was actually unable to leave Paris, on account of the debts he had contracted there, and which were not discharged until the following March. It appears that it is to these difficulties he alludes, in several parts of the following letters.