discreetly, and without my leave, told him that it was I. Upon which Mr Woolfe replied, that he should be very ready to venture all he had in the world to secure me. Upon which Richard Penderell came and told me what he had done. At which I was a little troubled; but then there was no remedy, the day being just coming on, and I must either venture that or run some greater danger.

So I came into the house a backway, where I found Mr Woolfe, an old gentleman, who told me that he was very sorry to see me there, because there were two companies of the militia foot at that time in arms in the town, and kept a guard at the ferry, to examine everybody that came that way, in expectation of catching some that might be making their escape that way; and that he durst not put me into any of the hiding-holes of his house, because they had been discovered, and consequently, if any search should be made, they would certainly repair to these holes, and that therefore I had no other way of security but to go into his barn, and there lie behind his corn and hay. So after he had given us some cold meat that was ready, we, without making any bustle in the house, went and lay in the barn all the next day; when towards evening, his son, who had been prisoner at Shrewsbury, an honest man, was released, and came home to his father's house. And as soon as ever it began to be a little darkish, Mr Woolfe and his son brought us meat into the barn; and then we discoursed with them whether we might safely get over the Severn into Wales, which they advised me by no means to adventure upon, because of the strict guards that were kept all along the Severn, where any passage could be found, for preventing anybody's escape that way into Wales.

Upon this I took the resolution of going that night the very same way back again to Penderell's house, where I knew I should hear some news what was become of my Lord Wilmot, and re solved again upon going for London.

So we set out as soon as it was dark; but we came by the mill again, we had no mind to be questioned a second time there, and therefore asking Richard Penderell whether he could swim

or no, and how deep the river was, he told me it was a scurvy river, not easy to be passed in all places, and that he could not swim. So I told him that the river being but a little one, I would undertake to help him over. Upon which we went over some closes by the river side, and I entering the river first, to see whether I could myself go over, who knew how to swim, found it was but a little above my middle, and thereupon, taking Richard Penderell by the hand, helped him over.

*

Which being done, we went on our way to one of Penderell's brothers, (his house being not far from White Lady's,) who had been guide to my Lord Wilmot, and we believed might by that time be come back again, for my Lord Wilmot intended to go to London upon his own horse. When I came to this house I inquired where my Lord Wilmot was-it being now towards morning, and having travelled these two nights on foot. Penderell's brother told me that he had conducted him to a very honest gentleman's house, one Mr Pitchcroft, not far from Wolverhampton, a Roman Catholic. I asked him what news. He told me that there was one Major Careless in the house, that was that countryman, whom I knowing, he having been a major in our army, and made his escape thither, a Roman Catholic also, I sent for him into the room where I was, and consulting with him what we should do the next day. He told me that it would be very dangerous for me either to stay in that house, or to go into the wood,-there being a great wood hard by Boscobel; that he knew but one way how to pass the next day, and that was, to get up into a great oak, in a pretty plain place, where we might see round about us; for the enemy would certainly search at the wood for people that had made their escape. Of which proposition of his I approving, we (that is to say, Careless and I) went, and carried up some victuals for the whole day-viz., bread, cheese, small beer, and nothing else, and got up into a great oak, that had been lopped some three or four years before, and being

* Charles mistook the name, which was Whitgreave. He was thinking of the field called Pitchcroft, near Worcester, where his army was encamped the night before the memorable battle.

grown out again very bushy and thick, could not be seen through, and here we stayed all the day. I having, in the meantime, sent Penderell's brother to Mr Pitchcroft's, to know whether my Lord Wilmot was there or no, and had word brought me by him at night that my lord was there, that there was a very secure hidinghole in Mr Pitchcroft's house, and that he desired me to come thither to him.

Memorandum :-' -That while we were in this tree we see soldiers going up and down in the thicket of the wood, searching for persons escaped, we seeing them now and then peeping out of the wood.

That night Richard Penderell and I went to Mr Pitchcroft's, about six or seven miles off, when I found the gentleman of the house, and an old grandmother of his, and Father Hurlston, who had then the care, as governor, of bringing up two young gentlemen, who, I think, were Sir John Preston and his brother, they being boys.

Here I spoke with my Lord Wilmot, and sent him away to Colonel Lane's about five or six miles off, to see what means could be found for my escaping towards London; who told my lord, after some consultation thereon, that he had a sister that had a very fair pretence of going hard by Bristol, to a cousin of hers, that was married to one Mr Norton, who lived two or three miles towards Bristol, on Somersetshire side, and she might carry me thither as her man; and from Bristol I might find shipping to get out of England.

Artegul and the Giant.

THEY saw before them, far as they could view,
Full many people gathered in a crew;
Whose great assembly they did much admire;
For never there the like resort they knew.
So towards them they coasted, to inquire

What thing so many nations met did there desire.

SPENSER.

There they beheld a mighty Giant stand
Upon a rock, and holding forth on high
A huge great pair of balance in his hand,
With which he boasted in his surquedrie*
That all the world he would weigh equally
If ought he had the same to counterpoise:
For want whereof he weighed vanity,
And fill'd his balance full of idle toys:
Yet was admired much of fools, women, and boys.

He said that he would all the earth uptake,
And all the sea, divided each from either;
So would he of the fire one balance make,
And one of air, without or wind or weather;
Then would he balance heaven and hell together
And all that did within them all contain ;

Of all whose weight he would not miss a feather:
And look what surplus did of each remain,
He would to his own part restore the same again.

For why, he said, they all unequal were,

And had encroached upon each other's share;
Like as the sea (which plain he showed there)
Had worn the earth, so did the fire the air;
So all the rest did others' parts impair :
And so were realms and nations run awry.
All which he undertook for to repair,
In sort as they were formed anciently;
And all things would reduce into equality.

Therefore the vulgar did about him flock
And cluster thick unto his leasings vain;
Like foolish flies about an honey-crock;
In hope by him great benefit to gain,
And uncontrolled freedom to obtain.
All which when Artegal did see and hear,
How he misled the simple people's train,
In 'sdainful wise he drew unto him near,
And thus unto him spake, without regard or fear:

"Thou that presum'st to weigh the world anew, And all things to an equal to restore,

Instead of right meseems great wrong dost show,
And far above thy forces' pitch to soar :

* Surquedrie-presumption.

For ere thou limit what is less or more
In everything, thou oughtest first to know
What was the poise of every part of yore:
And look, then, how much it doth overflow
Or fail thereof, so much is more than just to trow.

"For at the first they all created were

In goodly measure by their Maker's might;
And weighed out in balances so near,

That not a dram was missing of their right:
The earth was in the middle centre pight,
In which it doth immovable abide,
Hemm'd in with waters like a wall in sight,

And they with air, that not a drop can slide:
All which the heavens contain, and in their courses guide.

"Such heavenly justice doth among them reign, That every one do know their certain bound; In which they do these many years remain,

And 'mongst them all no change hath yet been found: But if thou now shouldst weigh them new in pound, We are not sure they would so long remain : All change is perilous, and all chance unsound; Therefore leave off to weigh them all again, Till we may be assured they shall their course retain."

"Thou foolish elf," said then the Giant, wroth,
"Seest not how badly all things present be,
And each estate quite out of order goeth?
And sea itself dost not thou plainly see

Encroach upon the land there under thee?
And th' earth itself how daily it's increased

By all that dying to it turned be?

Were it not good that wrong were then surceast,

And from the most that some were given to the least?

"Therefore I will throw down these mountains high,
And make them level with the lowly plain;
These tow'ring rocks, which reach unto the sky,
I will thrust down into the deepest main,
And, as they were, them equalise again.
Tyrants, that make men subject to their law,
I will suppress, that they no more may reign;
And Lordlings curb that Commons over-awe;
And all the wealth of rich men to the poor will draw.”