ing to the prisoner's lodgings, he found to his great amazement, that he was gone from thence one whole day before. Now the king and the lords being much disturbed at this unexpected accident, my lord treasurer sent orders to a pinnace that lay at the Downs, to put presently to sea, first to Calais Road, and then to scour up the coast towards Dunkirk. This pinnace espying the aforesaid French bark, which lay lingering for Mr. Seymour, made to her, which thereupon offered to fly towards Calais, and endured thirteen shot of the pinnace, before she would strike. In this bark is the lady taken prisoner, with her followers, and brought back towards the Tower; not so sorry for her own restraint, as she would be glad if Mr. Seymour might escape, whose welfare she protesteth to affect more than her own. So far our ancient author.

Mr. Seymour reached Dunkirk in safety, and lived to be restored to the honours of his family, and became the faithful adherent of Charles the First. His unhappy wife languished four years in the Tower, brooding over her misfortunes, which, at length deprived her of reason, till death released her from a life of misery; and, from the innocence of her character, we may trust she was admitted into that happy region, where all tears are wiped from the eye, and all sorrows lost in unfading joy.

The vicissitudes in the life of Jane, dutchess of Nor thumberland, can scarcely be exceeded by the most fer

tile imagination. able family, and married John, duke of Northumberland, the ambitious father-in-law of lady Jane Gray, and one of the greatest men of that age. She lived to see his schemes of aggrandizement overthrown, and his head severed from his body on the scaffold, as the punishment of his aspiring enterprises. She saw her son, the lord Guildford Dudley, and his amiable, innocent, consort, the lady Jane Gray, suffer the same ignominious death; from which, another son was rescued only, by his dying in prison; and the rest of her numerous progeny, living, as it were, but by permission. As a wife and mother, what situation can be conceived more wretched, except the additional misery of poverty, to which she was reduced, by the confiscation of her property.

She was descended from an honour

The firmness of her mind never deserted her in the time of her affliction, nor does she appear to have shown less stability of character when a happy change of circumstances followed these misfortunes. Through the interest of some of the nobility, the queen reinstated her in part of her former possessions; and such was the wisdom and prudence of her conduct, that she was enabled to restore her desolated family, under the rule of the jealous, cruel, and tyrannic Mary. It is remarkable, that her surviving children were distinguished by the prosperity and honour that attended them. Ambrose was restored to the title of earl of Warwick, and enjoyed many other benefits and preferments; Robert was created earl of Leicester, and became one of queen

Elizabeth's prime ministers; and her daughter Mary was the mother of the accomplished sir Philip Sidney.

As some parts of her will strongly mark her turn of mind, besides affording a curious specimen of the manners of the age, I shall transcribe an extract or two from it.

To sir Henry Sidney she bequeathed the gold and green hangings in the gallery at Chelsea, with the arms of her lord, and those of her own family. To her daughter, Mary Sidney, her gown of black barred velvet, furred with sables; and a gown with a high back, of fair wrought velvet. To her daughter Catherine Hastings, a gown of purple velvet, a summer gown, and a kirtle of new purple velvet, and sleeves belonging to the suit. To Elizabeth, daughter to lord Cobham, a gown of black barred velvet, furred with lizards. To the dutchess of Alva, her green parrot, having nothing else worthy for her. From these legacies we may infer that an expensive suit descended from one generation to another, and that the changes of fashion were not in those times in an hundredth degree so variable as at present. The remaining extracts show that her sorrows had greatly humbled her, and tended to prepare her for that awful moment, that will unveil the most secret thoughts and propensities of the heart, and show us as we really are.

"My will," says she, "is earnestly and effectually, that little solemnitie be made for me; for I had ever have a thousand foldes my debts to be paide, and the poor to be given unto, than anye pompe to be showed

upon my wretched carkes; therefore to the wormes will I goe, as I have afore wrytten in all pointes, as you will answer yt afore God. And you breke any one jot of it, your wills hereafter may chaunce be as well broken." These solemn injunctions were, however, disobeyed, either by the affection or pride of her children; for she was buried with great parade, two heralds attending with many mourners, six dozen of torches, and two white branches; and a canopy borne over her effigies in wax, carried in a handsome hearse, to the family vault at Chelsea, where she lies interred.

The life of sir Richard Stainer would furnish good materials for a fiction of the marvellous kind, especially if the vicissitudes that befel his heirs are united with it. He was the commander of a ship of war during the protectorate of Cromwell, and distinguished himself by several gallant actions. In 1656 having three frigates under his command, he fell in with the Spanish flota, consisting of eight sail. Notwithstanding the disproportion of numbers, he attacked them, and with such success, that in the space of a few hours he burnt one, sunk a second, captured two, and drove two on shore. treasure on board his prizes amounted to 600,000%. sterling. His riches did not abate his activity in the line of his profession: the next year, in company with admiral Blake, who had the chief command, he attacked and destroyed the Spanish flota in the Bay of Santa Cruz;

DA

The

an act so miraculous, says Clarendon, "that all whe know the place, wondered how any man, with what courage soever endowed, could have undertaken it. Indeed, they could hardly persuade themselves to believe what they had done; whilst the Spaniards comforted. themselves with the superstitious belief, that they were devils, and not men, who had destroyed their ships.

Stainer's bravery was rewarded by Cromwell with knighthood, and the dignity of a vice admiral. He received additional honours from Charles the Second, whom he attended on his return to England. Death shortly deprived him of the enjoyment of his titles and wealth. Having no children, he bequeathed his large property to his brother, who, by involving himself in a law-suit, lost the greater part of it, and sunk into poverty. His son, the nephew and representative of the distinguished, admired, and wealthy sir Richard Stainer, was some years ago a pauper in Birmingham workhouse!

Richard Lovelace, sometimes called colonel Lovelace, was also a singular instance of the great transitions to which the most prosperous situations are exposed. After leaving Oxford, where the beauty of his person, and the variety of his accomplishments, procured him general esteem and admiration, he entered into the army; and having faithfully served his unfortunate master, Charles the First, he afterwards entered into the service of the French king, and was wounded at the