unassisted, completed the amputation with the cook's knife in the kitchen of the George Inn at the village. This large old mansion was formerly a granary belonging to Hinton Abbey its capacious porch, the designs of some of its windows, its overhanging upper storeys (upon rude corbels), and its inner gallery leading to what once were bed-chambers, all denote the pile to have been erected in the early portion of the fifteenth century.

Macaulay has thus vividly described the capture of Monmouth: 'On Cranbourne Chase the strength of the horses failed. They were, therefore, turned loose. Monmouth. and his friends disguised themselves as countrymen, and proceeded on foot towards the New Forest. They passed the night in the open air; but before morning they were surrounded on every side. At five in the morning Grey was seized by two of Lumley's scouts. It could hardly be doubted that the chief rebel was not far off. The pursuers redoubled their vigilance and activity. The cottages scattered over the heathy country on the boundaries of Dorsetshire and Hampshire, were strictly examined by Lumley, and the clown with whom Monmouth had changed clothes was discovered. Portman came with a strong body of horse and foot to assist in the search. Attention was soon drawn to a place well fitted to shelter fugitives. It was an extensive tract of land separated by an inclosure from the open country, and divided by numerous hedges into small fields. In some of these fields the rye, the peas, and the oats were high enough to conceal a man ; others were

overgrown by fern and brambles. A poor woman reported that she had seen two strangers lurking in this covert. The near prospect of reward animated the zeal of the troops. The outer fence was strictly guarded, the space within was examined with indefatigable diligence, and several dogs of quick scent were turned out among the bushes. The day closed before the search could be completed; but careful watch was kept all night. Thirty times the fugitives ventured to look through the outer hedge, but everywhere they found a sentinel on the alert: once they were seen and fired at. They then separated, and concealed themselves in different hiding-places.

'At sunrise the next morning the search was recommenced, and Buyse was found. He owned that he had parted from the Duke only a few hours before. The corn and copsewood were now beaten with more care than ever. At length a gaunt figure was discovered hiding in a ditch. The pursuers sprang on their prey. Some of them were about to fire, but Portman forbade all violence. The prisoner's dress was that of a shepherd. His beard, prematurely grey, was of several days' growth. He trembled greatly, and was unable to speak. Even those who had often seen him were in doubt whether this were the brilliant and graceful Monmouth. His pockets were searched by Portman, and in them were found, among some raw peas gathered in the rage of hunger, a watch, a purse of gold, a small treatise on fortification, an album filled with songs, receipts, prayers, and charms, and the George with which,

many years before, King Charles 11. had decorated his favourite son.'

The incidents and circumstances of the capture have been described with more particularity as to the names of the places. The decisive battle of Sedgemoor was fought on the 5th of July, after which Monmouth and his friends fled across the boundaries of Wiltshire; at Woodyates' Inn, near Salisbury, on the road to Blandford, they turned their horses adrift; and thence crossed the country, nearly due south, to the Island' in the parish of Horton, in Dorsetshire, where, in a field called to this day Monmouth Close,' was found the would-be king. An ash-tree, at the foot of which he was found crouched in a ditch, and half-hid under the fern, is standing, and bears the carved initials of persons who had visited it: it was propped up for preservation.

In one of the fields of peas, tradition tells that the Duke dropped a gold snuff-box. It was picked up some time afterwards by a labourer, who carried it to Mrs. Wedale of Horton-probably the proprietor of the field -and received in reward fifteen pounds, which was said. to be half its value.

On his capture, the Duke was first taken to the house of Anthony Etterick, Esq., a magistrate, who resided at Holt, which adjoins Horton. Tradition, which records

the popular feeling rather than the fact, reports that the poor woman who informed the pursuers that she had seen two strangers lurking in the Island-her name was Amy

Farrant-never prospered afterwards; and that Henry Parkin, the soldier who, spying the skirt of the smock-frock which the Duke had assumed as a disguise, recalled the searching party just as they were leaving the Island, burst into tears, and reproached himself bitterly for his fatal discovery (Notes and Queries).

The late Earl of Shaftesbury, many years ago, took some pains to identify the localities of the capture, and the Close, which latter is on his lordship's estate, St. Giles's. What he learned upon the spot convinced him that the Duke was not going to Christchurch, but to Bournemouth, where he expected to find a vessel. Monmouth Close, as the inclosure has been called since the capture in July 1685, is in the direct line from Woodyates to Bournemouth. Lord Shaftesbury had printed, for the information of persons visiting the spot, an account of the Close and the capture, in which it is stated that when the Duke's pursuers came up, an old woman gave information of his being in the Island, and of her having seen him filling his pockets with peas. The Island was immediately surrounded by soldiers, who passed the night there, and threatened to fire the neighbouring cots. The Duke, when taken, was quite exhausted with fatigue and hunger, having had no food since the battle but the peas which he had gathered in the field. The family of the woman who betrayed him were ever after holden in the greatest detestation, and are said to have fallen into decay, and to have never thriven afterwards. The house where she lived,

which overlooked the spot, has fallen down: it was with the greatest difficulty that any one could be got to inhabit it. The Duke being asked what he would do if set at liberty, answered, that if his horse and arms were restored, he only desired to ride through the army, and he defied them all to take him again."

Monmouth was brought to London on July 15th, and had on the same day an interview with the king, who obdurately refused to grant him his life, or even the briefest respite. 'Though,' says Hume, 'he might have known, from the unrelenting severity of James's temper, that no mercy could be expected, he wrote him the most submissive letters, and conjured him to spare the issue of a brother who had ever been so strongly attached to his interests. James finding such symptoms of depression and despondency in his prisoner, admitted him to his presence, in hopes of extorting a discovery of his accomplices; but Monmouth would not purchase life, however loved, at the price of so much infamy. Finding all efforts vain, he assumed courage from despair, and prepared himself for death with a spirit better suited to his rank and character.' Having been attainted shortly after his landing, he was delivered to the executioner, and beheaded on Tower-hill the same day. The Duke is stated, in the folio dictionary of Pierre Richelet, to have given six guineas to the executioner to do his work well.

The statute of Monmouth's attainder is one of the briefest on record. It runs thus: 'Whereas James Duke