cacy, one that has the power to sweeten the bitterest adversity. Breadand-cheese and kisses are ambrosial fare, as all know, or ought to know; and a garret shared with a young heart's first, true, and only love is as brave a dwelling as any palace. At any rate so thought Ann Harrison and her cousin, young Richard Fanshawe, the newly-appointed secretary of war to the Prince of Wales. Love ripens amain amidst scenes which arouse and engage all the strongest feelings of our nature; and on the 18th of May, in the year 1644, these young people got themselves married at Wolvercot Church, two miles from Oxford. It was a quiet affair, as may be imagined under the circumstances; but the party, though small, were in the highest degree select: for Sir Edward Hyde, afterwards Lord Chancellor, and Sir Geoffery Palmer, the king's attorney, attended. Old Sir John gave his daughter the wedding-ring with which he had espoused her mother to be married with. It was a good omen. The pecuniary prospects of the young couple were slightly vague; for though the bride had a dower of 10,000l., no one knew when it could be paid, and the king's promise to Mr. Fanshawe of speedy preferment was, after all, only a promise. Their entire capital on entering into partnership was twenty pounds; and with this they started, as Lady Fanshawe says, "like merchant adventurers," expending it in pens, ink, and paper,-Mr. Fanshawe's stock in trade, and with this they drove a business which enabled them to "live better than those that were born to 2000l. a-year.”

I will just say a word on the antecedents of the head of this prosperous firm. He had been intended for the Bar, and was entered of the Inner Temple; but finding law an uncongenial study, he left it as soon as convenient, and took to travelling on the Continent, where he acquired a knowledge of modern languages, and some experience of the world. The latter he had, as usual, to purchase somewhat dearly at first. All the money he took with him on his first visit to Paris was, we are told, eighty pieces of gold and some French silver to the amount of five pounds. The gold was quilted in his doublet. The earliest acquaintance he made in Paris was that of two friars, his countrymen, who without loss of time asked him to play just to divert himself till his supper was ready. Before they left him at leisure to enjoy that meal he was without a penny, and was indebted to the generosity of his new friends for five pieces to set up again with. Fortunately he had friends at hand to help him, and at this moderate cost he learned a lesson which he never forgot-to avoid play, not with friars merely, but on all occasions. Oddly enough, one of these roguish friars afterwards turned up in England, where he was passing himself off in a respectable family as a "Captain Taller." The features of the man who had so mercilessly fleeced him were not likely to escape detection, notwithstanding the perruque he now wore, and the buff coat and scarlet cloak for which he had exchanged his friar's frock. Accordingly Mr. Fanshawe went up to him, and presenting him with five pieces said,

"Father Sherwood, I know you, and you know this."

The Jesuit, who was probably engaged on some secret plot, begged not to be denounced, as it might have cost him his life. In 1630 Mr. Fanshawe had returned to London, and having spent part of his time at Madrid to acquire the language and a knowledge of the country, was considered an efficient person to fill the post of secretary to Lord Aston's embassy to the Court of Spain. On Lord Aston's recall, he remained as chargé d'affaires until Sir Arthur Hopton succeeded his late chief, when once more he returned to England, where for two years he looked out in vain for some employment in the state. At last his brother ceded his situation of remembrancer of the Court of Exchequer to him, but not its emoluments, which he was only to enjoy in course of time. Then came the civil war, when, as a sworn servant of the king, he accompanied him to Oxford, where we have seen what happy fortune was in store for him.

The prince's secretary at war had not been married a year when he was called away to Bristol in attendance on his new master; and as this was the first sorrow that had overshadowed the happiness of the newly-wedded pair, so was it more keenly felt than many heavier troubles that afterwards befell them. Mrs. Fanshawe, being but just delivered of a son, could not follow her husband, and they parted in a passion of tears. Mr. Fanshawe was not indeed given to the melting mood, being of an extremely manly and well-governed temper; but the idea of leaving a young wife in a garrison-town with a dying infant (it lived but two days) was enough to overcome the sternest manhood. Poverty, moreover, unromantically aggravated the distress of their situation. Fanshawe kept up from a distance the courage of his wife with the comfortable hope of a speedy meeting, and still speedier remittance of the first money he should earn. By the help of such "cordials," as she calls them, Mrs. Fanshawe slowly recovered from her great bodily prostration; and in May, the first day she had left her room on her way from church, received a summons to join her husband, accompanied with a remittance of fifty pieces of gold. An escort with horses and all due accommodation was to be sent for her. The day this good news arrived had well-nigh, however, ended all joy and trouble for her in this world. Having placed herself on an eminence to see a company of foot commanded by Sir Charles Lee, an acquaintance, march past, the commander in compliment ordered his men to fire a volley, and the muskets being loaded a brace of bullets entered the tree against which she was leaning about two inches above her head. After the first fright, so narrow an escape might be regarded as a good omen, and heightened the spirits with which she set out in company of her father and sisters towards Bristol. The journey was, however, not without its dangers, for the enemy were quartering in the intervening country; but riding by night, they were fortunate enough to reach Bristol without any

disasters.

Here good lodgings were provided for them, and Fanshawe on his return from the council once more embraced his wife, at the same time

putting into her hands a hundred pieces of gold, with a speech which is of such good example to all husbands having their way to make in the world that I must transcribe it.

"I know," said he, "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."

That Mrs. Fanshawe felt duly elated by this testimony of her husband's affection and confidence none need doubt, and she tells us that at this moment she felt more honoured in bearing the name of so good a man than though she had been born a princess. But now follows a lesson which married ladies will do well also to lay to their hearts in all humility. It is contained in a little incident of her conjugal life which occurred during the first days of Mrs. Fanshawe's stay at Bristol with her husband, and is told with such pretty candour by herself, that to use any other than her own words in narrating it would mar both the moral and the story. Let me just premise that the prince had then an established council, consisting of the Earl of Berkshire, Earl of Bradford, Lord Bradford, Lord Colepepper, Lord Hopton, and Sir Edward Hyde, and, as has been said, Mr. Fanshawe was secretary to the council of war. And now we will let Mrs. Fanshawe speak.

"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, as my Lady Aubrey, Lady Isabel Thynne, and divers others, and yet none was at first more capable than I; that 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 of his affairs; saying, if I could 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 into 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 bim, as his custom ever was, he went with his hand full 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 which 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 usual, and when I had him by the hand, I said,

666
"Thou dost not care to see me troubled.'

"To which he, taking me in his arms, answered,

"My dearest soul, nothing upon 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 to me freely in order to his estate and family."

It will be agreed that a more charming picture for graceful simplicity and truthwas never painted by the most skilful novelist or poet than is presented in this little idyl of wedded life. The characters of the actors in this miniature domestic drama are as fully represented as though a Labruyère had devoted pages to their analysis. Mr. Fanshawe followed the prince's court in its various peregrinations from Bristol, where the plague had broken out with great violence, to Barnstaple, and thence to Launceston and Truro; and Mrs. Fanshawe preceded or came after the prince at each remove, never seeing him but at church, for, she informs us, "it was not the fashion in those days for honest women, except they had business, to visit a man's court." After a short stay at Pendennis Castle, the prince took ship with all his council for the Scilly Isles. They sailed from Land's End, and Mr. Fanshawe and his wife followed. This voyage was attended with a succession of the gloomiest mishaps. On shore, they were swindled of their house and furniture by a Captain Bluett, in whose trust they had left them; and at sea, a mutiny of the crew broke out, in the midst of which they were plundered of their entire stock of money and clothes; and the series of misadventures ended in their being nearly starved of hunger and cold at their journey's end, for there were not provisions or fuel enough in the island for half the court. After enduring hardships worse than ever they had to put up with at Oxford, they set sail for Jersey, where they were plentifully entertained by the lieutenant- governor, Sir George Carteret; and here Mrs. Fanshawe gave birth to her second child, the near approach of which event had added heavily to her previous sufferings. From Jersey the prince proceeded to Paris, and with him went Mr. Fanshawe's occupation. He re

mained a fortnight in the island, and then, with his wife, set out to visit his brother, Lord Fanshawe, who was ill at Caen. From this place Mrs. Fanshawe was despatched by her husband to London, travelling for the first time alone, and for the first time charged with the management of important business. She succeeded in her mission, which was to raise money, and obtained permission for her husband to come to London and compound for his estates for 300l. They continued in London in great seclusion, and constant fear lest Mr. Fanshawe should be imprisoned before he had concluded his affairs, until October 1647. During this time Mr. Fanshawe waited on the king at Hampton Court, and was charged by him with a private mission to Spain. Mrs. Fanshawe was also admitted to an audience with the royal captive more than once. The account of her last interview with him is characteristically described, and affords another testimony to the noble and amiable qualities which entered so largely into the mingled composition of his character.

says,

"The last time I saw him," she "when I took my leave, I could not refrain from weeping. When he had saluted me, I prayed to God to preserve his majesty with long life and happy years. He stroked me on the cheek, and said, 'Child, if God pleaseth it shall be 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 said, 'Be sure, Dick, to tell my son all I have said, and deliver these 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 dignity, I will bountifully reward you both for your service and sufferings.' Thus did we part," concludes Mrs. Fanshawe, with true royalist fervour, "from that glorious sun that, within a few months after, was murdered, to the grief of all Christians that were not forsaken by God.”

On their return to France Mr. Fanshawe stayed a few days at Portsmouth, where, walking on the shore, they were taken as marks by the gunners of two Dutch vessels, England being then at war with Holland, and the practice was so good that they heard the ball whiz by them. Lady Fanshawe very naturally began to run, and urged her husband to follow her example; but, true to his strength and dignity of character, he refused to alter his pace, saying, "If we must be killed, it were as good to be killed walking as running."

Nothing of import now occurs in Lady Fanshawe's narrative beyond one or two journeys alone to England, again for the purpose of procuring money, until her husband was sent to Ireland by the king to receive what moneys Prince Rupert could succeed in raising by the fleet he commanded. The design was frustrated; but in the mean while Mr. Fanshawe had sent for his wife and family to join him at Youghal, where they remained some six months in comparative happiness and comfort,