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Dorking. It is a very beautiful neighbourhood, pre-
senting "that picturesque intermixture of hill and vale,
cultivation and wildness, which delights the artist
and the traveller." Abinger and Ockley have their
mansions and monuments, and the like, "decies repe-
tita;" but we need not stop until we get to fair
Wootton itself, where Evelyn so truly preaches from
his tomb the" wisdom of honesty," and so patriotically
served his country by encouraging the breed of-trees.
He wrote a vast deal besides the celebrated Sylva,
as on Architecture, Sculpture, Earth, Etching, and
Lucretius; and a few unpublished mannscripts of his
have, somewhat remarkably, escaped the honours of
print to this hour. The mansion at Wootton is a brick-
built, large, and irregular pile; has its terraced cut hill,
temple, fountain, conservatories, woods, and waters;
within are the average amount of ancient and artistic
objects common to the many fine seats of Surrey: an
earthen vase of gold coin found within the manor, and
some personal reliques of Sylvan Evelyn, may be par-
ticularized. The church is small and rude, serving
in chief as a mausoleum for the reigning family. We
may do well here to reproduce and send to the ends of
the earth "the truth which, pursuant to his intention,"
is sculptured on the monument of Evelyn,-" All is
vanity which is not honesty, and there is no solid wis-
dom but in true piety." Let the double-faced and
canting-tongued lay these words to heart. And what
need is there to tell of the glorious panoramic scene so
world-beknown as

"Where the landmark tower of Leith
Sentinels its purple heath;"

mella does like service for the fowls. Doubtless these both are to be classed as reasonably among living antiquities, as the Wandering Jew, or mummy wheat. Bury Hill, and Shrub Hill, and The Rookery, are goodly seats enough; at the last, "Population Malthus" was born, and the first was a stronghold of old Rome. Winterfield produced for our cabinets "a wooden box of 700 Saxon coins dating from 726 to 890." Mag's Well, at Meriden, yields a water likest to the Malvern. Rousseau had a cottage not far off, where he gnawed, no doubt, his misanthropic heart. And, by way of being very discursive in our information, Dorking once bred a hog as big as a rhinoceros: the monster measured twelve feet long by eight wide, and was thirteen hands high. Its skin stood for many years stuffed at the Wheatsheaf, but "Tempus omnivorax" has probably swallowed up this, as the bulk of other marvels, whether they come to us in the guise of pigs, or only of philosophers.

Blackheath hundred suggests that a town may once have existed where now only a long tract of dusky moor lends its fitting name to the locality; and, in fact, we know practically of more than one site where pottery, bricks, coins, and other remains of human occupation, are traceable. However, "periere funditus:" and their memorial has perished with them: excepting in so far as regards the evidence supplied by coins, which in one spot upon Farley-heath have been found ranging over a period from Nero to Honorius. Let us pass in rapid review what other interests remain to us. Alfold Park was once a capital moated mansion, and was tenanted by Henry de Clifford, who has been or of Richard Hull, "armiger," who whimsically fancied decided by Mr. Brayley (in an article contributed to to be buried there; or of the several pleasant seats Brydge's Censura Literaria) to have been the author of overlooking the Wealden, as Hill Place, Jayes, and that pretty and pathetic ballad, the "Nut-browne Tanhurst? And then, to retrace one's steps a little, how Maide." Old Tangley Manor-house is small, but picturesque a dell is Lonesome, with its cabinet cas- picturesquely panelled. Dunsfold church has a piscina cade; how wild a heath is Holmbury, with its Roman and sedilia. Hascomb's beechy knoll, and Castlehill, hill, and the blackcock birring in its hurtwood; how are prominent features in the pleasant landscape; and suggestive of the lituus and the tuba is Stane-Street Cicero Middleton was rector of the former. And now, causeway; and how full of modern cheerfulness is following our labyrinthine guide, whose first law is Dorking! Who has not heard of the Deepdene, a anything but topographical order, we find our feet upon princely pile, combining art's museum with the paradise St. Martha's. Who knows not Martyr's Hill for many of nature; or of Betchworth Castle, where Abraham miles around? and who has not mourned over the Tucker's "Light of Nature" first blazed forth, and shameful negligence which so long suffered that timeall those its mighty chestnuts; or of Denbies, the far-honoured old church to rot away and perish as we looked seen nest of Mr. Denison? These are but a sample of the pleasant spots near Dorking. And then, among such other and mightier remains as Anstiebury and Ermine Street, let us draw antiquarian attention to Dorking fowls and Dorking snails, as being legitimate descendants of Latin ancestry. With respect to the latter, indeed, it is doubtful whether or not some two hundred years ago "Lord Marshall Arundel," of marble fame, did not introduce the large white snails ("luscious" is the epithet for those who like them, and "my lord had them in deliciis,") from Italian shores for his consumptive lady; but as they (the helices pomatiæ, to wit,) are sometimes found near other Roman stations,we may instance Bignor, and the villa north of Oxford,— we can refer them as fairly to the ancients, as Colu

upon it? who, as now, is not rejoiced at the restoration
of this, one of the most primitive memorials of Christianity
in the land? Until very recently, St. Martha's had
within its chancel, near the torn-down altar-piece, a
curious chalk figure, now all broken to pieces and
dispersed, of a recumbent knight in armour, by name
Morgan, with a fairly poetical inscription, as thus,-

["Sleep on thy marble pillow, worthy Sir,
Whilst we, as pilgrims to thy sepulchre,
Visit thy happy Virtues, with a flame
As hallow'd as thy dust, to sing thy fame;
Whose sacred actions with such will are strung,
They give the speechless stone a speaking tongue.
If virtue that makes men to seem divine,
If all those glorious beams that sweetly shine
Upon gentility, and deck her crest,
Like fixed stars in orbs, mov'd in his breast,

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Then, in these senseless character of stones
New life gives honour to his lifeless bones.
The soul's a harmony which best doth sound
When our life plays the mean, our death the ground.
Take from thy name but M, even Morgan's breath
Stopt sweetly as an organ, at his death:

And with his swan-like tones did singing die,
And dying, sang out his mortality.

Then sleep on still; whose life did never jar,
Can ne'er be less, may more be, than a star.
Good ends of men are like good ends of gold,
Whereby we may make Angels; in which mould
Thy virtues cast thy bliss; for sure, in heaven,
Angels weigh more than ours stampt for Eleven."

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We give these lines because they now are not, and are intrinsically fair, ingenious, and Quarlesish: the mean must be the tenor, and the "ground" the bass. The last line is a riddle, but numismatists will easily detect how an "angel" might have been "stampt for eleven." All this, then, and much more, has now within a year or two past disappeared. St. Martha's, however, has some imperishable interests, exclusively of its christianities and their decayed memorials in stone; it has a few primeval antiquities to boast of. The summit on the eastern side is curiously ridged by many parallel banks and ditches, much effaced, but which were probably, in early times, intended to keep off attacking enemies on horseback. Also, to quote our author,

"On the southern side of St. Martha's Hill are two distinct but small circles; each formed by a single bank and ditch: one of them is about thirty yards in diameter, the other, twenty-eight yards. Whether these circles were ever connected with Druidical rites, or not, must remain questionable. They have not hitherto been noticed in any published work; and the same may be stated with respect to a large barrow, enveloped in foliage and obscured by large trees grow ing upon it, which is situated about three-quarters of a mile from the hill, in the approach from Guildford.

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English village church. Cranley church has some re-
mains of an ancient and memorable character: its
stained glass in particular is of Saxon times, and
highly interesting. Baynards, and Knoll, and Won-
ersh Park, and some other places, are well notice-
able in their several ways as seats of elegance and
luxury in particular the first of these, where the
only drawback to an otherwise most covetable
and princely abode is the sea of mud in which its
oaks are floating.-But we feel that these things pall
from their very sameness; churches and mansions
are too much the staple of the theme: let us make an
effort to diversify it by mentioning a case for Mr.
Ferrand, to match his " Devil's-dust." Wonersh,
(Ognersh,-the hog-marsh,) now an inconsiderable
village, was once a place of note for its cloth manufac-
tures; chiefly a species of blue baize, delighted in by
the Canary Islanders. But it was ruined,-ruined
even to what it is now, (hear ye this, Leeds and
Paisley!)-by the fraudulent practice of stretching
pieces originally eighteen yards in length to a false
and flimsy two-and-twenty. Let us thence, passing
Farley heath, and picking up a Roman coin or two
by the bye, ramble through the beautiful vale of
Albury, a place of note in several ways. Ashmole the
antiquary in old times grubbed there and mathe-
matical Oughtred delved for impossible roots: and
Hugh Mc Neile there first plumed the Tea пTEPÓerta
of his sacred eloquence. Albury is also theologically
famous for its convocation of the prophetical students
some years ago, under the presidency of Mr. Drum-
mond; for the conversion of the old church into a
family mausoleum, decorated by Pugin; and for the
elegant cathedral-like structure appropriated to the
followers of Mr. Irving. The Park-house contains
some curious old portraits, an extensive library, and
some fair pictures. The gardens were laid out by
Evelyn; and, for its size, the park is one of the most!
diversified as to natural beauties in the kingdom.

Nothing has yet been said of the glorious prospect from St. Martha's Hill, which the most fervent pencil of picturesque enthusiasm would fail to depict in apposite colours. On every side, a rich and almost unbounded view presents itself, intermingled with every charm which landscape scenery, in all its diversity of character, The boast of Shere is confined to the venerable can exhibit. Towards the south, the prospects extend across the weald of Surrey and Sussex to the south downs memory of Mr. Bray, the all but centenarian antiquary: and the sea; and on the north, the eye ranges over a whose labours, as concerning the history of Surrey, portion of the valley of the Thames, as far as the high were doubtless to our present author, after his own chalk-ridge of Oxfordshire, near Nettlebed, from which the summit and chapel of St. Martha are distinctly seen." personal inquiries throughout the country, the prinGladly do we add another tribute of admiration to Netley Park, and several minor pretty places, with a cipal founts of information. For all else, there are a prospect so truly superbfew of the usual interests in a large old village church; some being monumentals of the fifteenth century, and one a Norman doorway with the zigzag ornament.

"Lo, the glorious landscape round!
Tread we not enchanted ground?
From this bold and breezy height
The charm'd eye sends its eagle flight
O'er the panoramic scene,
Undulating, rich and green;
And with various pleasure roves
From hill and dale to fields and groves,
Till the prospect, mingling grey
With the horizon, fades away,
Shutting in the distant view

With fainter lines of glimmering blue."
Shalford House has a few good pictures, some of
which came from the Orleans gallery: the church
latterly taken down had a stained window of the
Ascension, and some respectable family monuments.
The new one is a picturesque specimen of a truly

Godalming hundred has its first notable in the name of Manning, who began the great county history which Bray so ably completed: he died at the age of eighty, in 1801. Godalming town is well known to be mainly a long red street, once all alive with Mr. Moon's post-horses: but the railway has changed all that; its chief celebrities now, beside dulness, are confined to what may be found in the large inposing church, the market-place, and the memory of Mary Toft's wonderful rabbit-breeding. This was a sly woman of Godalming, who gained a great deal of money in 1726 by pretending to be delivered of live

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rabbits: Whiston believed it; Hogarth painted it; and the very accoucheurs of those wise times were duped. Eashing is a fair mansion, the ancestor of which is mentioned by name in Alfred's will as Esching; and Busbridge contains some capital Morlands. At Haslemere, a considerable place, there is little to mention but traditions of the Danes, regrets for the Reform Bill, and some painted glass in St. Bartlemy's chapel. Compton and several other villages have picturesque churches, and curious Sussexmarble fonts, with each its tribute of interest in the mansions both of dead and living: but the principal seat in the hundred is Lord Middleton's. Pepperharrow is a name neither euphonious nor aristocratic: and yet etymology redeems it from both imputations. Ignorance might have imagined that it was so named from some ancient duke's ideas of plebeian agriculture; at least there is a modern one whose panacea for poor husbandry is literally "peppering the harrow:" O dura messorum ilia! doomed by mere benevolence to fatten upon curry. But knowledge, routing such ideas, announces that this ancient park was "Piper's-arow:" the "arow," or plough-demesne, of some so-named Saxon magnate. Whether or not the venerable nursery rhyme of Peter Piper, who with so much difficulty picked a peck of pepper, is by any confusion referable to this locality, must be left for the decision of Mr. Hallowell, and other pundits in such dulcet strains. More reverently, though, the mansion at Pepperharrow Park is worthy of much praise for finely proportioned rooms, hung with some capital pictures; and the domain is abundantly watered and wooded, and replete with the usual attributes of a Peer's residence.

Farnham hundred comes at the close of our task: and though small in dimensions, it has a few respectable celebrities. We enter it by that remarkable ridge, the Hog's Back, from either side of which natural terrace we look down upon fertile vales, bounded only by the horizon. Of course, in entering Farnham we cannot help uttering the word hops; for the bristling poles abound, and would have given Homer a new simile for his long-lanced Achæans; but, having thus once given substance to the thought, our conscience is sufficiently delivered. In old times the quantity of fern native to the soil originated the name that Farnham now retains. The place is largish, long, and dull; has (if rightly we remember) such outlandish names as Xerxes and Cæsar, in gilt capitals, over some of its shopwindows, and is overcrowed by the brick-built episcopal residence. Books, and portraits of former bishops, are the principal adornments of the castle, beside the gardens (one of these being up two pair of stairs on the keep,) and other accessories to peace and pleasure exteriorly it is an embattled mansion, with an offset square tower to the west, having hexagonal turrets at the corners. The old castle, its predecessor, rebuilt after an earlier edifice of the time of Stephen, was a fortress of some strength and consequence during the civil war of Charles; and Sir William Waller, having wrenched it with difficulty from the loyal hands of Sir John Denham, blew it up with gunpowder, and

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shortly afterwards it was systematically destroyed. On the Restoration, Bishop Morley restored it to much about its present appearance, which has the merit of being useful, if not in all points ornamental. Farnham church, once an outpost of Waverley Abbey, is extensive, well adorned with tracery, and well furnished with monuments: the altarpiece, a painting of the Lord's Supper, of some merit, is by a local artist, Elmer, a name unknown to fame. Within an easy walk of Farnham, about two miles to the south-east, we may visit for a moment Moor Park, a place consecrated to literary recollections as the seat of Sir William Temple, who lived, and died, and without a metaphor left his heart, there: it is said to be "buried in a silver box under the sun-dial in his garden." Swift, then secretary to the statesman, also has sowed there the memories of departed genius; more especially as the far-famed Stella, Swift's first love, was daughter to one of Sir William's dependents, and as at Moor Park the future Dean did his best to win her. Nigh at hand is Mother Ludlam's Cave, a paved irregular excavation, dug by the monks of Waverley in search of a spring which had suddenly failed them in due course Lud-well [the name Lud was elsewhere attributed to water, e.g. Ludgate,] easily became the property of an ideal witch, who also took possession of a large cauldron in a neighbouring church, which the hospitality of old times had commanded to be used for a parochial distribution of soup, at the wedding of poor maids. Thus are the lying legends of darkness shone away by the lamp of knowledge. To the south-west of Farnham about two miles, occurs Waverley Abbey: we may pass by the pleasant modern mansion, to come and contemplate the ruin. It is a miserable fact, that there is now left to us only," what not alone time and Puritan iconoclasts have spared, but sundry former brute-proprietors also, who within a score or two of years have torn down the structure for the sake of its materials. At present, scattered over three or four acres, have survived a few ivy-mantled walls, and remains of columns and arches, sufficient to prove that a magnificent pile had once stood there almost within memory, it is said, the old stained glass was jewelling the windows. The name Waverley imperatively calls up that of Scott; and it is an interesting fact that the Great Unknown adopted the title merely as a taking one, whilst on a visit with his friend the late Mr. Poulett Thomson at the modern abbey. Another noticeable literary feature hereabouts, is that Cobbett was a native of Farnham; and that his fresh and healthy" Rural Rides" have made classic ground of many a fair spot in the neighbourhood of his birthplace.

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In conclusion, let us not be so ungrateful as to have gleaned the chief part of our knowledge from Mr. Brayley's handsome volumes, without thanking him for the industry and ability which their compilation has evinced. It is true that we are practically at home in many of the places we have noted, and needed thus no leading strings; but this affords the better

opportunity of stating that we have seldom detected an inaccuracy, nor often had to supply an omission. It is thirty years since an edition of our county's history was published; this generation may well have demanded a new one, forasmuch as the volumes of Bray and Manning are both scarce and costly; and the present publication, coming in a serial form, copiously illustrated, and of convenient dimensions, has well supplied that want, having added to drier matter the popular zest of anecdote and pictures. We trust that an extensive local patronage has fallen to the lot of "Brayley's Surrey."

THE ROMANCE OF THE PEERAGE.'

and is one of countless examples of the instability of earthly fortune.

The Lady Dorothy Devereux.-This lady was the younger sister of Lady Penelope Devereux, afterwards Lady Rich, who has been immortalized by Sir Philip Sidney under the name of "Stella." Dorothy seems to have been inferior to her sister in mind and in personal beauty; although of the last she had probably a very large share. Stellas are not to be met with every day; or perhaps it would be truer to say, that it is the Sidneys that are wanting; and that, to an unloving or an unpoetical eye, Astrophel's incomparable star might have seemed no brighter than any other pretty glittering court spangle. But whatever were the Lady Dorothy's claims to live in men's hearts and wear away their brains, her external history is much less remarkable than that of her famous sister. At the age of seventeen or eighteen she achieved a runstanding the objections raised against this match at away marriage with Sir Thomas Perrot. Notwiththe time, it appears to have turned out well. After the death of her first husband, Lady Perrot, of course, married again, (all the ladies in those days married twice, thrice, and sometimes four times.) Her second husband was Henry Percy, ninth Earl of Northumber

In our notice of the preceding volume of this work we gave a general account of the author's mode of treating his subject; showing that it is purely and strictly historical and biographical; and that there is nothing fictitious in Mr. Craik's "Romance of the Peerage. The word romance, as he here uses it, means that portion of the lives of men and women of rank which is wonderful, extraordinary, or full of the heroic or poetic elements. He neither embroiders facts, nor weaves prettily-coloured webs of fiction for his readers. During a long course of historical read-land. Mr. Craik thinks it pretty clear that Lady ing he has become thoroughly master of his subject; that is say, as much as a man can be master of a limitless subject. He knows in what quarters to make the proper researches for the investigation of this or that branch of it; and he has a clear, sound, mature judgment, to probe and sift doubtful matters, weigh contrary evidence, and see through the disguises of historic misrepresentation and popular fallacies. In addition to these qualities, he has one, without which they would be of little use in such a shoreless sea as the "Family History of the British Peerage;"-he has great skill in the arrangement of his subject. He disentangles and clearly unravels the many cross threads of genealogy which, of necessity, run through every portion of it, and he keeps his family groups well together, not allowing one to mingle with another, more than is required in order to show how they are connected by marriage. These points concerning the author and his book might have been gathered from the first volume only; but they are still more apparent in this new one, of the contents of which we will now proceed to give some account.

The narratives in the present volume are more numerous than those in the first. We have here eleven; the chronology of them being, with trifling exceptions, within the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. By giving their running titles we shall enable the reader to see at a glance the nature of the ground gone over in the volume.

The kindred of Queen Anne Boleyn.-This chapter may be considered as a sort of conclusion to the story of "Lettice Knollys," and gives an account of the rise and rapid extinction of the Boleyns and Knollyses, (1) "The Romance of the Peerage; or, Curiosities of Family History." Vol. II. By George Lillie Craik. Chapman & Hall.

Perrot's large fortune was the earl's greatest inducement in seeking her hand, and that they did not live very happily together; although the countess seems to have forgiven much. Northumberland's hatred to the whole Essex party was so strong, that he told Cecil once, in a moment of confidence, “that he had much ado to love his own daughters, because they were of that generation." When the earl was imprisoned in the Tower on the accusation of having assisted in the contrivance of the "gunpowder plot,' he and his wife seem to have gone on very well together. "Sweet are the uses of adversity!" The countess died, however, in 1619, at the age of fiftythree or four-before her husband was released from the Tower. She was "the mother of Dorothy, Countess of Leicester, and of Lucy, Countess of Carlisle, and the grandmother, through the former, of Dorothy, Countess of Sunderland (Waller's Sacharissa), as well as of Algernon Sidney."

Next comes the history of "The old Percies," in which Mr. Craik begins from the beginning, or a little earlier, and ends with the ninth Earl of Northumberland, who married Dorothy Devereux, as just now stated. We quote the following remarks from the conclusion of this interesting chapter:

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"It seemed the order of nature that a Percy should | always die a bloody death. And these men may be said to have all lived, as well as died, in harness. They and their predecessors, for at least three more generationsof the state, and been ever foremost in one or other decomprehending above another century—had stood pillars partment of the public service. It is remarkable, however, that the four who were slain in battle, all fell fighting on the side which was at the moment the wrong, or the losing one; and the same unhappy destiny continued to pursue the race after they came to die in another fashion than with arms in their hands. About half a cen

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The portrait of Mary Tudor, prefixed to the volume, is that of a very lovely woman, made up of frankness, sweetness, and dignity. Her story is briefly this :In infancy she was half betrothed to the baby Prince of Castile, afterwards Charles V.; but, the matter

tury passes, divided between the magnificent prosperity | brought up at the court of Henrietta Maria, and who of the fifth, and the inglorious wretchedness of the sixth was married to the great painter Vandyck. Her earl; and then, within another term of about the same length, are recorded three more violent deaths-that of portrait, by her husband, is now at Hagley, the seat the father of the seventh earl, that of the seventh earl of Lord Lyttleton. She was a great beauty. himself, and that of the eighth earl-all three charged "The last Lord Cobham" and " the last Lord Grey of with rebellion or treason. Thus, in the two centuries, Wilton" contain much curious and interesting matter; we have only two earls who died in the ordinary course of nature, and no fewer than eight heads of the house but we must pass them over, and come to the four suddenly and violently cut off-four of them in battle, concluding stories, which are all, more or less, contwo on the scaffold, the other two lawlessly murdered. nected with the public history of the period, and Nothing can set before us in a more striking way the involve the important disputes concerning the succonvulsed or troubled condition of English society cession to the throne of England. These narratives throughout those two hundred years. The fifteenth and sixteenth centuries stand by themselves, and make are entitled, "Mary Tudor, the French Queen," a cycle in our history. The time between the dethrone- Sisters of Lady Jane Grey," Margaret Tudor, the ment of Richard II. and the accession of James I.- Scottish Queen," and "The Lady Arabella Stuart." between the era of the Plantagenets and that of the Stuarts, formed a transition period from one state of things to another, both in the social and in the political constitution of the country. The Lancastrian and Tudor domination was something superinduced over the worn out fabric of our original institutions, an interruption of the natural course of events, a new and foreign element thrown into our national system. It served the purpose of stirring the half-exhausted mass into new life. But it necessarily operated by originating and maintaining a process of fermentation, which, so long as it lasted, kept everything in what may be called an abnormal or unnatural condition. In the height of its activity, law and order were utterly overthrown; and even in its stage of subsidence, there continued to prevail a nearly complete eclipse of all constitutional security and freedom, the necessary consequence of the danger of renewed convulsion that still existed, and of the constant state of apprehension, suspicion, and uneasiness in which the government-and it may be said the community in general-were thereby kept. It was not till after the accession of the Stuarts that Englishmen began to remember again that they had, or once had had, a constitution; or ceased to be afraid even to talk or think of their ancient liberties."

The next story is that of "Earl Henry the Wizard." He is this same ninth earl, and was supposed, in his own day, to have had some supernatural knowledge. Mr. Craik speaks of him as a person in whom there was evidently much good." This may have been the case; but, from aught that we here learn, the facts of his life tell much against him. The "good" in him was neither good feeling nor good sense, for his conduct is, for the most part, selfish and foolish. To our thinking, he was very nearly good for nothing. He might pass for a "wizard" in the seventeenth century; but we do not think he would be taken for a conjurer now. This chapter concludes with a brief account of the descent of the earldom to his grandson, the eleventh Earl Percy, and its subsequent transmission in the female line to the present Duke of Northumberland.

never went much farther. Before she was sixteen she fell in love with Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, a man no longer in sa première jeunesse, and she was far, very far, from being his first love. But Brandon was handsome, brave, gallant, and amiable; and-que voulezvous? as the French say-she loved him; and he thought the beautiful princess a capital match, and had hopes that his royal master Henry VIII. would give him his sister. But, unfortunately, good, gouty, old Louis XII. asked her hand for himself; and Henry could not refuse the crown of France for his sister. So the poor child was sent over to Boulogne, and thence conducted to her lord. He was very kind to her while he lived, but that was only a few months; and after his death she returned to England and married Brandon. Her descendants by Brandon, the Ladies Jane, Catharine, and Mary Grey, laid claim to the succession to the English throne before the Stuarts, who were descended from Margaret Tudor, Mary's elder sister. This claim was founded on an Act of Parliament passed in the year 1536, which empowered Henry VIII. to make a will postponing the right of Margaret's descendants, and giving the priority to those of his younger sister, Mary, failing the lines of his three children, Mary, Elizabeth, and Edward. In the section entitled "The Sisters of Lady Jane Grey," their claim to the crown is discussed, and their stories given. The Lady Catharine Grey was an interesting and unfortunate woman; her history is mournful, and it is well told here. The parents of these distinguished ladies, the Marquis and Marchioness of Dorset (Frances Brandon), were by no means of the over-indulgent school, if we may trust their daughter Jane's account of them :

"The last of the Ruthvens" is full of interesting matter concerning the remarkable family of the Ruthvens. The Gowrie Conspiracy occupies some space "Sir John Hayward characterises the Marquis of here; and Mr. Craik, in speaking of the original Dorset as a man for his harmless simplicity neither letters of Logan of Restalrig, shows in a very satis- misliked nor much regarded. On which Strype annofactory manner that the plot must have been planned tates, 'A disparaging character given of a great man, by the Earl of Gowrie and his brother, and not by without much if any ground for it. This character I can King James, as many persons believed until the dis-give of him, that he was a great friend to the Reformacovery of these original letters by Pitcairn. The last Ruthven was a woman, Maria Ruthven, who was

tion, and a patron of learned men.' Dorset appears to have been a man of a higher order of mind than Hayward's splenetic account of him would lead us to

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