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"And that will not be long; if you learn not a little more economy, we shall have you in cuerpo soon, as the Spaniard says."

Their discourse was here interrupted by one of the band of pensioners.

"I was sent," said he, after looking at them attentively, "to a gentleman who hath no cloak, or a muddy one.-You, sir, I think,” addressing the younger cavalier, "are the man; you will please to follow me."

"He is in attendance on me," said Blount; "on me, the noble Earl of Sussex's master of horse."

"I have nothing to say to that," answered the messenger; "my orders are directly from her majesty, and concern this gentleman only."

So saying, he walked away, followed by Walter, leaving the others behind-Blount's eyes almost starting from his head with the excess of his astonishment. At length he gave vent to it in an exclamation-"Who the good jere would have thought this?"-and shaking his head with a mysterious air, he walked to his own boat, embarked, and returned to Deptford.

The young cavalier was, in the mean while, guided to the waterside by the pensioner, who showed him considerable respect—a circumstance which, to persons in his situation, may be considered as an augury of no small consequence. He ushered him into one of the wherries which lay ready to attend the queen's barge, which was already proceeding up the river with the advantage of that flood-tide, of which, in the course of their descent, Blount had complained to his associates.

The two rowers used their oars with such expedition, at the signal of the gentleman pensioner, that they very soon brought their little skiff under the stern of the queen's boat, where she sat beneath an awning, attended by two or three ladies and the nobles of her household. She looked more than once at the wherry in which the young adventurer was seated, spoke to those around her, and seemed to laugh. At length one of the attendants, by the queen's order apparently, made a sign for the wherry to come alongside, and the young man was desired to step from his own skiff into the queen's barge, which he performed with graceful agility at the forepart of the boat, and was brought aft to the queen's presence-the wherry at the same time dropping into the rear. The youth underwent the gaze of majesty not the less gracefully that his self-possession was mingled with embarrassment. The mudded cloak still hung upon his arm, and formed the natural topic with which the queen introduced the conversation.

"You have this day spoiled a gay mantle in our behalf, young We thank you for your service, though the manner of offering it was unusual, and something bold."


"In a sovereign's need," answered the youth, "it is each liegeman's duty to be bold."

"That was well said, my lord!" said the queen, turning to a grave person who sat by her, and answered with a grave inclination of the head, and something of a mumbled assent. "Well, young man, your gallantry shall not go unrewarded. Go to the wardrobe keeper, and he shall have orders to supply the suit which you have cast away in our service. Thou shalt have a suit, and that of the newest cut, I promise thee, on the word of a princess.'

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"May it please your grace," said Walter, hesitating, "it is not for so humble a servant of your majesty to measure out your bounties; but if it became me to choose".

"Thou wouldst have gold, I warrant me," said the queen, interrupting him; "fie, young man! I take shame to say, that, in our capital such and so various are the means of thriftless folly, to give gold to youth is giving fuel to fire, and furnishing them with the means of self-destruction. If I live and reign, these means of unchristian excess shall be abridged. Yet thou mayst be poor," she added, "or thy parents may be-It shall be gold, if thou wilt; but thou shalt answer to me for the use on't."

Walter waited patiently until the queen had done, and then modestly assured her that gold was still less in his wish than the raiment her majesty had before offered.

"How, boy!" said the queen; "neither gold, nor garment? What is it thou wouldst have of me, then?"

"Only permission, madam-if it is not asking too high an honorpermission to wear the cloak which did you this trifling service." "Permission to wear thine own cloak, thou silly boy!" said the


"It is no longer mine," said Walter; "when your majesty's foot touched it, it became a fit mantle for a prince, but far too rich a one for its former owner."

The queen again blushed, and endeavored to cover, by laughing, a slight degree of not unpleasing surprise and confusion.

CHARLES BUTLER, 1750-1832.

CHARLES BUTLER was born in London, of a Roman Catholic family, in 1750. After receiving the rudiments of his education at a school of that denomination at Hammersmith, he was sent to the English college at Douay,2 where, according to his own account, the scholars were excellently well instructed in their reli

1 Four miles west of London.

a The Roman Catholic College in the north of France.

gion, and the classics were well taught; "but writing, arithmetic, and geography were little thought of, and modern history was scarcely mentioned;" the object being rather to make the scholars good Papists than to be useful and active citizens of general society. From Douay Mr. Butler removed to Lincoln's Inn, where he entered upon the study of the law, and ultimately practised as a conveyancer. His legal publications were numerous, and gave him much reputation as a lawyer. In 1797 appeared his "Hora Biblicæ," among the most popular of his works. The first part contains an historical and literary account of the original text, early versions, and printed editions of the Old and New Testaments; and the second a similar account of the sacred books of the Mohammedans, Persians, &c. It is free from any party theological spirit, and it speedily ran through five editions. His writings in behalf of the Papal Church are numerous and valuable, and involved him in occasional controversy with some eminent men of letters. But the work by which he is now most known to general readers is his "Reminiscences," the first volume of which was published in 1822, and the second in 1827. It is a history of his literary life, and contains some very interesting details and pleasing sketches of distinguished men; and from it the following extracts are selected. Mr. Butler died in London, June 2d, 1832.


Of those by whom Lord North was preceded, none, probably, except Lord Chatham, will be remembered by posterity; but the nature of the eloquence of this extraordinary man, it is extremely difficult to describe.

No person in his external appearance was ever more bountifully gifted by nature for an orator. In his look and his gesture, grace and dignity were combined, but dignity presided; the "terrors of his beak, the lightnings of his eye,' were insufferable. His voice was both full and clear; his lowest whisper was distinctly heard; his middle tones were sweet, rich, and beautifully varied. When he elevated his voice to its highest pitch, the house was completely filled with the volume of the sound. The effect was awful, except when he wished to cheer or animate; he then had spirit-stirring notes, which were perfectly irresistible. He frequently rose, on a sudden, from a very low to a very high key, but it seemed to be without effort. His diction was remarkably simple; but words were never chosen with greater care. He mentioned to a friend that he had read Bailey's Dictionary twice, from beginning to end, and that he had perused some of Dr. Barrow's Sermons so often as to know them by heart.

His sentiments, too, were apparently simple; but sentiments were never adopted or uttered with greater skill. He was often familiar and even playful; but it was the familiarity and playfulness of condescension-the lion that dandled with the kid. The terrible, however, was his peculiar power. Then the whole house sunk before

him. Still he was dignified; and wonderful as was his eloquence, it was attended with this most important effect, that it impressed every hearer with a conviction that there was something in him even finer than his words; that the man was infinitely greater than the orator. No impression of this kind was made by the eloquence of his son, or his son's antagonist.

But with this great man-for great he certainly was-manner did much. One of the fairest specimens which we possess of his lordship's oratory is his speech, in 1776, for the repeal of the Stamp


Most, perhaps, who read the report of this speech in "Almon's Register," will wonder at the effect which it is known to have produced on the hearers; yet the report is tolerably exact, and exhibits, although faintly, its leading features. But they should have seen the look of ineffable contempt with which he surveyed the late Mr. Grenville, who sat within one of him, and should have heard him say with that look-" As to the late ministry, every capital measure they have taken has been entirely wrong." They should also have beheld him, when, addressing himself to Mr. Grenville's successors, he said "As to the present gentlemen-those, at least, whom I have in my eye"-(looking at the bench on which Mr. Conway sat)" I have no objection; I have never been made a sacrifice by any of them. Some of them have done me the honor to ask my poor opinion before they would engage to repeal the act they will do me the justice to own, I did advise them to engage to do it; but notwithstanding-(for I love to be explicit)-I cannot give them my confidence. Pardon me, gentlemen"-(bowing to them)fidence is a plant of slow growth." Those who remember the air of condescending protection with which the bow was made, and the look given, when he spoke these words, will recollect how much they themselves, at the moment, were both delighted and awed, and what they themselves then conceived of the immeasurable superiority of the orator over every human being that surrounded him. In the passages which we have cited, there is nothing which an ordinary speaker might not have said; it was the manner, and the manner only, which produced the effect.






Once, while he was speaking, Sir William Young called out, "Question, question!" Lord Chatham paused-then, fixing on Sir William a look of inexpressible disgust, exclaimed-"Pardon me, Mr. Speaker, my agitation: when that member calls for the question, I fear I hear the knell of my country's ruin.”

On another occasion, immediately after he had finished a speech in the House of Commons, he walked out of it; and, as usual, with a very slow step. A silence ensued, till the door was opened to let him into the lobby. A member then started up, saying, "I rise to reply to the right honorable member." Lord Chatham turned

back, and fixed his eye on the orator,-who instantly sat down dumb his lordship then returned to his seat, repeating, as he hobbled along, the verses of Virgil:

"Ast Danaum proceres, Agamemnoniæque phalanges,

Ut vidêre virum, fulgentiaque arma per umbras,
Ingenti trepidare metu,-pars vertere terga,
Seu quondam petiêre rates,-pars tollere vocem
Exiguam,-inceptus clamor frustratur hiantes."

Then placing himself in his seat, he exclaimed, "Now let me hear what the honorable member has to say to me." On the writer's asking the gentleman from whom he heard this anecdote,—if the house did not laugh at the ridiculous figure of the poor member?" No, sir," he replied, "we were all too much awed to laugh."

But the most extraordinary instance of his command of the house is, the manner in which he fixed indelibly on Mr. Grenville the appellation of "the Gentle Shepherd." At this time, a song of Dr. Howard, which began with the words, "Gentle shepherd, tell me where," and in which each stanza ended with that line,-was in every mouth. On some occasion, Mr. Grenville exclaimed, "Where is our money? where are our means? I say again, where are our means? where is our money?" He then sat down, and Lord Chatham paced slowly out of the house, humming the line, "Gentle shepherd, tell me where." The effect was irresistible, and settled for ever on Mr. Grenville the appellation of "the Gentle Shepherd."


On his first separation from the ministry, Mr. Fox assumed the character of a Whig; and, from this time, uniformly advocated, in consistency with that noble character, the great cause of civil and religious liberty, on their broadest principles.

Almost the whole of his political life was spent in opposition to his majesty's ministers. It may be said of him, as of Lord North, that he had political adversaries, but no enemy. Good-nature, too easily carried to excess, was one of the distinctive marks of his character. In vehemence and power of argument he resembled Demosthenes; but there the resemblance ended. He possessed a strain of ridicule and wit which nature denied to the Athenian; and it was the more powerful, as it always appeared to be blended with argument, and to result from it. To the perfect composition which so eminently distinguishes the speeches of Demosthenes, he had no pretence.

1 Soon as Æneas' form and arms appear,

The Grecian chiefs and soldiers quake with fear;
Some turn their backs, as formerly they fled

To gain their ships;-while others struck with dread,
With feeble voices raise their screaming notes

That die half-utter'd in their gasping throats.

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