the forty or fifty who were in favour of the proposed proceeding, that when the said JOHN COOK had the effrontery to declare it was in the name of the "good PEOPLE of England," that the king was accused, the Lady Fairfax, who was present, called out in a loud voice, "It is a lie!-not the tenth part of the people are concerned in it, but it is all done by the machinations of that traitor Cromwell!" Another voice too, exclaimed, "It is false! where are they or their consents?" upon which Colonel Axtell ordered his musketeers to level their pieces at the gallery whence these words proceeded. Of course there was no reply to so convincing an argument, and the "good PEOPLE of England had all the merit of bringing their sovereign to the scaffold.

The next thing performed by the PEOPLE of England, or in their name,

F

was to pass an act (Feb. 5, 1648) voting the House of Peers useless and dangerous, and to declare," that it had been found by experience that the office of a king in this nation was unnecessary, burdensome, and dangerous, to the liberty, safety, and public interest of the nation, and therefore it should be utterly abolished."

Five years afterwards-only five years -when Cromwell dissolved the Long Parliament, and took upon himself the "office of a king," under the name of Protector, the "majority of the PEOPLE," we are told, were so delighted with the proceeding, that "they thanked him in numerous addresses and congratulations, acknowledged the justice of the action, and promised to stand by his government."

In four years more-that is in April 1657-the PEOPLE of England, speaking as they are now supposed to do, through their representatives, presented to his Highness"their humble petition and advice," praying that he would be pleased to assume the name of a king, as well as the office; but his Highness being coy, they appointed a committee of ten persons to wait upon him, and, in the name of the PEOPLE of England, to entreat him to discard his scruples. At this conference, Chief Justice Glynne said, "Your Highness may demand why, having already made you Protector, invested you with the office of chief magistrate, and intrusted you with the care of our liberties, our commerce, and our honour, we are now grown weary of our institution, and desire to restore a title which a long series of wicked administration has made it proper to abrogate? To this we can easily answer, that our request is the request of the PEOPLE; the PEOPLE whose interest is chiefly to be considered, and to whom it is your highest honour to be a faithful servant.' Another of the committee, Mr. Fiennes, one of the commissioners of the great seal, at a subsequent conference, told his Highness it was incumbent upon him, "to prove the necessity of rejecting that title which the WHOLE PEOPLE of England entreat ed him to accept." Lenthal, who had been speaker of the Long Parliament, which abolished monarchy, and who

was

now master of the rolls, said, "General effects must have general causes, and nothing can influence the

WHOLE NATION to demand the restoration of monarchy but universal experience of the evil produced by rejecting it."

His Highness the Protector, who knew right well how far the PEOPLE of England were really concerned in this project of his own for putting the crown upon his head, prudently declined the "humble petition and advice;" and continued to exercise the office only, without the title, of king.

At his death, the PEOPLE were once more unanimous in proclaiming their attachment, and swearing fidelity, to the government of his son, Richard. This was towards the close of 1658.

In 1660, Charles II. was restored, and the PEOPLE-but let us here borrow the language of Lord Clarendon, and of the restored monarch himself. The noble historian, describing the enthusiasm and joy of the parliament and the nation, after it was determined by the former to invite the exiled Charles back again, says, "From this time there was such an emulation and impatience in Lords, and Commons, and city, and generally over the kingdom, who should make the most lively expressions of their duty and of their joy, that a man could not but wonder where those people dwelt who had done all the mischief, and kept the king so many years from enjoying the comfort and support of such excellent subjects.”

The same author thus describes the king's entry into London :"

"On Monday he went to Rochester; and the next day, being the nine and twentieth of May, and his birth day, he entered London, all the ways thither being so full of people and acclamations as if the whole kingdom had been gathered there. Between Deptford and Southwark, the lord mayor and aldermen met him, with all such protestations of joy as can hardly be imagined. The concourse was so great, that the king rode in a crowd from the bridge to Whitehall; all the companies of the city standing in order on both sides, and giving loud thanks to God for his majesty's presence. He no sooner came to Whitehall, but the two houses of parliament solemnly cast themselves at his feet with all vows of affection and fidelity to the world's end. In a word, the joy was so unexpressible, and so universal, that his majesty said smilingly to some

about him; "he doubted it had been his own fault he had been absent so long; for he saw nobody that did not protest he had ever wished for his return?"

Thus, we see the PEOPLE, in the short space of twelve years, cut off the king's head-declared the office and name of king odious-were delighted when Cromwell assumed the office-implored him to take the name-swore eternal fidelity to his son, and were in an agony of delight when they got rid of him, to make room for the son of that king whom they had murdered!

And were the PEOPLE of England justly chargeable with all these crimes and follies? Who will have the hardihood to answer, Yes? They and they only, who now have the hardihood to assert that the PEOPLE call for "the bill, the whole bill, and nothing but the bill." But, in the words of the Lady Fairfax, we say, "It is a lie!-not the tenth part of the people are concerned in it-it is all done by the machinations of-a FACTION!"' WILLIAM.

WHEN they assembled at breakfast the following morning, they found an agreeable accession to their circle in the persons of Master Eusebius Andrewe, a worshipful justice of the peace, and his maiden sister, Madam Penelope Andrewe, cater-cousins of Mrs. Trevanion.

Mr. Andrewe had been bred to the law, but, as has been said by some witty person whose name I do not remember, the law not being bread to him he very soon relinquished it; and coming into the possession of an estate not long after, of the clear annual value of 500l., he set forth upon his travels at the breaking out of the civil wars, and continued abroad till the execution of Charles I. He then returned, took up his abode at the old Manor House, about four miles from Bogle Hall, and being looked upon as a person who came under none of the party denominations of the day, neither cavalier, roundhead, leveller, independent, presbyterian, agitator, or fifth monarchy man, but simply one who wished to be quiet, he was considered a very proper character to be in the commission of the peace.

His sister, on the contrary, Madam

Penelope, was by no means of the same pacific propensities; for when the Parliament, or rather the forty or fifty who were allowed to meet at Westminster, by their masters, the army, announced their intention of bringing the king to trial, she posted up to London with a petition from herself, praying that they would allow his majesty to enter into a treaty with them, and so settle the peace of the kingdom. She could find no one to present this petition, and she was not allowed to present it herself; but ever after, when the subject of the king's murder, as she resolutely called it, was mentioned in her presence, she would sigh and exclaim, "Aye, aye, I wish I could have got at them, I warrant they should have heard something that would have made them as tender of that blessed martyr's head, as of their own;" to which her brother would always reply, "Penelope, you are a fool-and if your head were worth chopping off, that silly tongue of yours would have sharpened the axe long ago."

The gossipers had scarcely begun their breakfast, before Margaret Glen

luce called upon Hoodless Oliver for his story, and this led to inquiries on the part of Mr. Andrewe and his sister, which ended in a rather tedious recapitulation, by Mrs. Trevanion, of their discourse the preceding evening.

"I am no believer in ghosts, or witches, or fairies, or any thing of the kind," said Mr. Andrewe, " and yet on two occasions in my life, I do confess I was marvellously perplexed to account, in a natural way, for what happened to me. One of them, indeed, I did never understand from that day to this; but the other had a right merry ending to a fearful beginning.'

It was unanimously resolved (except by Madam Penelope, who had heard her brother's stories at least as often as he had heard the account of her petition which would have saved the king's life) that Mr. Andrewe should have precedence of Hoodless Oliver; and his worship cheerfully consented, for he loved nothing better than talking of wonderful events of which himself was the hero. He accordingly began

"About twenty years ago," said he, "when I had been settled some months in my chambers, in Gray's Inn, up three pair of stairs, one night, as I came home in the dark, I went to lay down my gloves upon the table in my study (for being then my own man, I placed every thing where I knew I could find it when I wanted it), and as I laid them down I felt a piece of money under my hand. It seemed to be a shilling; but procuring a light, I saw it was a twenty shilling piece of gold. I reflected a little how it might come there, for I had no client, and few visiters who might drop it by accident, and no friends, in town, who would designedly lay it there as a bait to encourage me in my studies. I knew, moreover, I had so few pieces of my own, I could not have left it there myself. About three weeks after, coming again into my study in the dark, and laying down my gloves in the same place, I felt another piece of money under my hand, which turned out to be another twenty shilling piece of gold. At this I marvelled greatly, but by no guess or inquiry could I discover how it came to pass. Nevertheless, thinking, peradventure, I had been negligent in the matter, I was tempted oftentimes to

go into my study in the dark, and feel if there were any money, but never when I went with those expectations and desires did I find it."

"No, no," explained Mrs. Trevanion, "leave the devil alone for watching his opportunities, and getting his claw upon us at his own time. What like was the gold, Mr. Andrewe? And did you not always find it too hot to hold?"

"I think it must have been," answered Mr. Andrewe, with a sly look, "though I cannot now call that particular fact to mind; for I could never hold any of them above a day or two."

Why you did not surely go on picking up the devil's temptations!" said Mrs. Trevanion.

"No longer than he put them in my way," replied Mr. Andrewe, "which he did a third time, about a month after, when, laying my gloves down in the same place, and in the dark, I felt two pieces instead of one, and they both proved to be twenty shilling gold pieces."

"Mr. Andrewe," said Mrs. Trevanion, "where did you get those gloves? And what sort of gloves were they? It is most certain, in my mind, they were the wicked cause of all."

"I think not, Mrs. Trevanion," rejoined Mr. Andrewe, "for I continued to wear them, and to lay them in the same place, long after I ceased to find the gold pieces, which I never did again, from the time I mentioned the circumstance to my cousin, Bridget Shipwith."

66

our

"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Trevanion, shaking her head, and looking most significantly at Madam Penelope, cousin Bridget is dead and gone-gone to heaven, I hope! but that black cat she was so fond of,-with a tail no longer than my little finger, and such eyes as I never saw a cat with in my life-God knows what that was! I only know the day she died it disappeared-mark that!"

"It did," replied Madam Penelope, shaking her own head, and returning Mrs. Trevanion's significant look with one still more significant," it did, cousin." Then heaving a deep sigh, and casting up her eyes, she added, "God rest her soul! For she had strange ways with her!"

"By your leave, good cousin," said

Mr. Andrewe, "it will go hard with you to make a witch of poor Bridget, who was as simple a body as my sister Pen (sister Pen stroked down her stomacher and tossed back her head at these words); but true it is, and marvellous as true, I never did learn how those gold pieces came upon my table, while, certes, they came no more, as I have told you, after mentioning the matter to my cousin Shipwith. More marvellous still, however, was the adventure that befel me in the Venetian states, when I was on my travels in Italy.

I found myself towards evening entering a large forest, through which, for the space of nearly three miles, my path lay, in order to arrive at the town where I intended to sojourn during the night. I had not ridden more than half my distance, when I was beset by a body of armed men, to the number of at least a dozen. I knew that plunder was their object, and that with such odds against me resistance would have been vain. They made me dismount, and in a trice every thing I had about me changed masters. This was bad enough, but this was not all: for when they had rifled me, one of them asked the captain of the band whether he should cut my throat?' Seeing that he only mused, and that they all stepped aside to consult, as I guessed, upon the expediency of murdering me, I watched my opportunity, took to my heels, darted into the thickest part of the wood, and ran for it. They pursued, firing their arquebuses as they caught a view of me every now and then between the trees. The forest grew more and more impenetrable and intricate as I advanced, and so dark, from the approach of night and close interlacing of the trees, that I not only frequently stumbled, but struck my face against their branches. At length my assassins seemed to have given up the chase, for as I paused to listen, I could hear no sound of voice or footstep. I had no sooner, however, escaped one danger than I became sensible of another; that of wandering all night through a dismal wood, which, for aught I knew, might be the haunt of other banditti, or the abode of ravening beasts."

"Lord! Mr. Andrewe," exclaimed Mrs. Trevanion, 66 were you ever in such a peril ?"

Aye, indeed," answered Mr. Andrewe, "and you may guess I was right glad, after a time, to espy a twinkling light glimmering at a distance."

"I am sure you must have been," said Margaret, with a warmth of manner that showed the lively impression produced upon her by this recital.

above. 6

"I made for the light," continued Mr. Andrewe, "and with infinite difficulty reached the spot whence it proceeded. I found myself at the gate of a castle. I knocked loudly and violently. Who is there?' snarled a voice from For God's sake open the gate, and give me shelter,' I replied. I have been robbed by banditti, and am pursued by them for my life.' No answer was returned; but presently the gate opened. The entrance was still, gloomy, and dark as the grave. I groped my way in. Come,' said the same voice; and an ice-cold hand seizing mine dragged me along. I shook, albeit I am no coward (as I trust I may say of myself), and would have drawn back; but the gate was shut behind me with a thundering noise."

"What a situation !" exclaimed Margaret, shuddering as she spoke.

"I am wonderfully curious to hear the issue," said Mr. Randall, elevating his bushy beetling eyebrows, and fixing his dull gray eyes intently upon Mr. Andrewe.

"A man might be as stout as old Ironsides," observed Mr. Pendlebury gravely, "and not shame to own his fear so circumstanced; for darkness and mystery do breed alarm in the boldest hearts."

"Hoodless," cried Reginald Glenluce, "dost think thy unbelieving spirit would have been a coat of mail for thy courage at such a moment?"

"I am sure no spirit, believing or unbelieving, would have sufficed the keeping of thy courage, who was scared at a tom-cat last night," replied Hoodless Oliver, somewhat sulkily.

"Perceiving that my retreat was cut off," continued Mr. Andrewe, "I bade defiance to my fate, and resolved to meet the worst as a man. The icy hand was drawn back when I had advanced a

few steps. I stopped to wait till it should again lay hold of me, "Lord!" interrupted Mrs. Treva

nion.