received a third from you concerning York House. Its trew that Sir John Epslie, a week agone, spoke with me about it, and asked me whether I still desired it or not; for, said he, if you do, I am promised by my Lady Greslies meanes to get it you. 1 bad him do it; but since you go on the more solid way for my ends, I will forbid him meddling any more, and for that purpose I am contented to write that letter to my Lord of St. Albans, tho' he will discover me when I shall be in possession of the house; at which time he will also discover his own base folly, for I am far from quareling such a poore afflicted mau as he is."*

It may not be inappropriate to close this long list of correspondence by a reference to two letters from Lord Keeper Williams to Lord Cranfield, both betraying a trace of satirical banter when referring to the misfortunes of the fallen Bacon. They are both in the valuable collection of Earl de la Warr.+

I find mention of many of his works scattered through the reports, but space will not allow of a detailed list; and as it is not always possible to state the date of publication, it would serve no good end to point out their several locations. Mr. Philips has an early copy of three of his essays, viz., on Revenge, Adverșitie, and Innovations, and Earl de la Warr has a petition from Mons. Jurnall to the Duke of Buckingham, in which it is stated that he was employed by the King "to translate the whole works of Viscount St. Albans and others of your best writers," which shows that James appreciated somewhat those works which could not find a kindly hearing till a later age, when St. Albans was forgotten, but Bacon remembered. ||

Dr. Abbott states that he has endeavoured to view Bacon's character as a whole, aud not in two halves, as Lord Macaulay does; and to the biographer this view is, of course, the proper one. For those who wish to find the carcer of this great man mentioned in history, however, the tarnished name of the statesman need never approach the lofty position of the philosopher, "the degrading trappings of civic pomp" need never be regretted; for, while the latter attach themselves to Viscount St. Albans, they cannot affect a name which has lived through all, which has bid defiance to the mandate of the sovereign, and still shines unadorned, but by its own greatness, the immortal name of Francis Bacon.

G. LAURENCE GOMME, F.R. Hist. S.

Spedding, vol. xiv., pp. 334, 347. Reports, iv., 306.

|| It is stated in a letter from Chamberlain to Carleton (Calendar of State Papers, James I., Domestic Series), "that a fool could not have written such a work, and a wise man would not " in reference to Instauratio Magna.

THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH.

WITH rusty old sword in the cabir,

Of the groaning and storm-tossed bark, Old Ponce de Leon sat stabbing

At the ravenous rats in the dark; For the lamp's last oil was low burning, And the wick gave a flickering glare, Now dying and now returning,

As hope might fight on with despair.

By the table Don Pedro sat starving,
His garments so tattered and torn,
No Jew would have offered a farthing,

No beggar would ever have worn;
But beneath the old rags there lay many
Good golden bright ducats in store;
No one else of the crew had a penny,
But he had a thousand and more.

By his side was the scourge of the sinner,
"Father Francis," with pitiful face,
With nothing to eat for his dinner,
No excuse for reciting a grace.
In vain for the wine that makes merry,
The sick or the dying might ask;
There was only one pint of old sherry,
And the father hid that in his flask.

Said de Leon, "My good friends and trusty,
My patience is nearly played out,
I'm hungry and thirsty, and rusty-
Shall we put the old vessel about?
Nine months for the Fountain of Youth,'
We have searched the Lucayas in vain,

And I feel rather older, in truth,

Than if I had spent them in Spain.

"Yet I grieve when I think of the glory, The honour to Catholic Spain,

My name, ever famous in story,

My life to live over again.

The council, the court, and the battle,
Love, music, dice, wine, and guitar,
And all for one dip in the Fountain,

For which we have travelled so far."

Said Pedro, "Before that we started,
I knew the adventure was rash ;
Humanity made me faint-hearted,

I was never accustomed to wash ;
But I thought of the great golden mountain,
That might yet be discovered in time;
So one plunge in the wonderful Fountain,
And all the red gold may be mine."

"Keep on !" shouted Francis, the friar, For ever and ever we'll tack;

My dreams shall not prove me a liar,

And my glorious youth shall come back. Give me time, and my foot shall be planted On the neck of the monarch and slave; And never a pleasure I wanted

Untasted this side of the grave."

Hark! a shout, and a footstep comes flying,
Ponce de Leon calls fiercely, "How now?"
When the steward, he enters half crying,
"There is land on the starboard bow!
There's smoke, too, above the trees rising,
And some voices we heard, as we think,
And it wouldn't be very surprising

If we picked up some victuals and drink."

"Man the boats, search the woods and the caves, Take the bloodhounds, but mind where they bite.

We don't want to kill the poor slaves;

It's sufficient to give them a fright.
What, only one woman, you say?
Old, ugly, and dirty, and white!
Won't answer a word 'yea,' or ' nay?'
She must be a most wonderful sight!

"Speak up!" said de Leon, politely,
But never one word would she speak ;"
He gave her a sword prick just lightly,
She only replied with a squeak.

Said Pedro, "Let me try my hand,"

And he pulled from his store a doubloon; She sank with a groan on the sand,

And remained a long time in a swoon.

Father Francis whose voice was all honey,
Said, "Why make the poor woman cry?
Why expect to succeed with your money,
When there's nothing the woman can buy?
Her strength it is quite superhuman,"
Here his flask he produced with a wink;
"But I never yet knew an old woman,
Who'd not break a promise through drink."

She drank, and her eyes opened staring,

She was lively beyond all comparing―

In fact, she did nothing but talk!

"Was this Bimini ?" "Yes," with persistence,

She cried, and I know it too well!"

"Was the Fountain of Youth in existence ?"

"As certain as Heaven and Hell!"

"By the powers above and infernal,
I should very much like to be told,
If the Fountain gives youthdom eternal,
Why, the deuce you keep ugly and old?
You cannot have tried it, for never
Could youth so unnatural be!"

"I don't want to be youthful for ever."
"Why?" "Come to the Fountain and see.

Through mangrove and muddy slush wading,
They splashed on the difficult track,

And just as the twilight was fading,
They were all rather taken aback.
The "Fountain of Youth" was before them,
And the water was blacker than ink;
And although you might try to ignore them,
There were smells which amounted to stink.

"It's dirty," said Pedro, quite crusty, "Which nobody here can deny; But, then, my old garments are rusty, And they not so nasty as I

It's a difficult job we must handle,
And not to be turned into fun;

But the game is at least worth the candle,
And the washing has got to be done !"'

"What!" shouted the hag, "will you venture Without hesitation or doubt?

Do you know if the water you enter
You never again can come out?
Look again, can't you spy out the devil?
There he lurks in the dirtiest pool!

If your soul is not free from all evil,
You had better not be such a fool.

"Don't you know that to live on for ever,
You must first pass the portal of death;
All connection with earth you must sever."
Said de Leon, "You may just save your breath,
In this world the whole of my trade is,

I'll follow it up like a man,

Put the vessel about for old Cadiz,
And live just as long as I can."

J. T. W. B.