guardian angel. "No one will kill me to make you king," said the Merry Monarch to his successor; it was the greatest defence which remained to this idol of the popular fancy-this waster of the most royal gifts of Providence and the strongest tie which bound the undeceived and discontented country to its failure of a king.

Religious persecution and intolerance, far from chary of their alliance at any time, took kindly to the profane sovereign, and made no scruple in using his power. Good, passive, law-obeying Puritanism, forgetting its old usage of resistance, suffered itself to be slain with edifying resignation. And the time-bred monsters too-the Popish plot fabulous or real the pseudo-Protestant plot, which hunted this spectre into mad chaos and unbelief agitated the public mind with fright and indignation; and heavy and real disaster added its crushing and repeated blow. One such event as the Great Plague or Fire of London seems enough, in ordinary course, for a generation of men; and we can scarcely understand the strain of nerve and courage which resisted, or the passive unreflective endurance which lived through, such overwhelming calamities. Nor only lived through-but, dancing on the graves of pestilence, and over the ashes of destruction, spread its unwholesome gaiety around without a pause.

Yet sparkling with profane wit, rich in wanton beauty, profusely endowed with the lesser talents which sparkle in their generation more than the great lights of genius, there is no period more picturesque in costume, more animated in grouping, or more pictorial in general light and shadow. Dawning Science, that has not yet quite forgotten its old tricks of legerdemain, but mixes up the half-discovered grandeur of its vast new truth with pranks of old astrology and nimble sleight of hand - Art that comes a full-grown giant from over the sea, holding up a mirror by the courtly hands of Lely and Kneller to the voluptuous Graces of the court, and overflooding with perukes and laced coats the ancestral picture galleries of all England- the two great faculties of curiosity and wonder, primitive capacities almost exhausted

in our day, peering everywhere with a hundred eyes; and, on the other hand, Learning marching solemnly on to its sum of knowledge, yet making itself a very prodigy of industry and research by the way. Through this and in it, and through a hundred little intricacies of official jobbery, of political intrigue, of private broils and matchmakings, flows such an overflowing and abundant soul of energy as puts life and breath into the whole. A corrupt and self-degrading state, with every element of ruin in its bosom; yet in such rude might of vitalityevery pulse throbbing with strength, every vein full-blooded, every muscle sound-that the current of its perpetual activity sweeps our languid footsteps into it with an irresistible attraction-the stream hurries upon its course with such a visible impetus of life.

And what even the brillant record of Macaulay cannot do for Dutch William and his austere and virtuous heroism, a crowd of self-biographers have done for the times of lawless Charles. When the broad and general story fails, it is rare that a bit of sun-bright daguerreotype-a homely clear succession of every days threaded upon some individual life-is unsuccessful in catching the eye and rousing the interest; nor is there any period so fertile in such as is this and the preceding generation. The records of Mary Hutchinson, the wife-like story of Lady Fanshaw, and those breathings of ascetic piety and meek devotion, which startle us so much, from the pen of a maid of honour in the dissolute court of Charles-the diaries of Mrs Godolphin-add touches of feminine nicety to Evelyn's gentlemanlike chronicle and the unparalleled revelations of Mr Secretary Pepys; not to speak of narratives less known-the journals of pious Nonconformists, and sketches of personal experience, which, by some necessity laid upon them, hosts of those good people have felt it their duty to leave behind. We had almost added to the list that person of real flesh and blood, the citizen of London who indites the true history of the Great Plague; and but that scoffers say he is no more to be relied upon than the redoubtable Crusoe, his brother and kinsman, no bit of individual story throws more

light upon the time than does his. We can spare it, however, in the profusion of autobiographical riches, concerning the authenticity of which there can be no dispute; and passing Master Defoe on the one side, and my Lord Clarendon, authentic, but ponderous, on the other, there are still abundant materials from which to glean the history, both public and domestic, of this lively and animated time.

Shut your eyes, gentle reader! forget that there are steam-engines and iron ways, reformed Houses of Parliament, public meetings, variable funds, and invariable income-taxes, in this working-day world. Let the old sunshine of romance break upon you through the old rich foliage of that old old England, which was in story and in rhyme, if it never was in the sober light of every day. Never stop to inquire if the road is safe at night; rather admire the antique pistols in this knave's holsters, and that stout steed of his, which was never intended to run away, you may be certain, if all the highwaymen between Thames and Humber cried "Stand!" Stout rascals are those riders, too, as good for a blow as any of their inches who ride upon the other side of the law; and with such an escort the gilded coach goes at a leisurely pace along the warm and sandy track, threading the mazes of shadow and sunshine that chequer all this quiet way. Perhaps the worthy gentleman within is doing a bit of his Sylva, or taking notes upon his tablets, or making mental memorandums for his diary, which he will fill in when he gets home; and looking back upon his composed and guiltless memory, such vistas of trim gardens rise to his vision, such a sheen of dazzling fountains glitter in the sun, such fair and goodly terraces, such winding alleys of green shade, such artful delusions and tricks of perspective expand before him, that these fair bright homely fields map themselves out to his fancy in labyrinths and mazes of intricate art, and nature smirks out of her quaintly fashioned livery, but keeps her bloom and her luxuriance still, and flings her flowers and green leaves in handfuls at the feet of Evelyn, in mockery of all he would do

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to restrain her freedom-yet in loving mockery withal. Not to inspect another newly-completed and princely garden, but to see some incomparable pieces" of Titian or of Raphael, and to tell the noble amateur of Grindling Gibbons and his wonderful feats of carving, with benevolent purpose of enriching this humble genius, the Master of Sayes Court drives to town; thence to kiss hands at Court, perhaps, and with pious horror and courtly curiosity to become aware of the unbecoming pomp and extravagance of my Lady Castlemaine; thence to the Royal Society, where are many curious tricks of science strangely mingled and mixed up with great discoveries, to be seen and heard of, and where learned and lordly dilettantism does not disdain a gossip now and then to lighten graver discussions; and thence, with encounter of many notable names and historical personages by the way, to coach again, and home at a quieter pace along the dewy road, where the labourer hastens to be housed before nightfall, and the outriding knaves look to their pistols,—for though the country is quiet, the road has no great name by night.

Or if, most worshipful spectator of these elder ages, your taste directs you to a gayer scene-lo, only a street apart, "mighty fine" in the new camlet suit, whose bravery he enjoys with genuine delight and a professional appreciation, in his new-curled black peruke, his eyes twinkling with curiosity, with fun and wickedness, see Mr Secretary at his desk in his office, perchance discussing with natural acuteness some matter of business, or warily receiving a letter which feels heavy, but which the official's unsuspecting faculties will take no cognisance of at present. If you have real business to transact, and can but catch this twinkling eye, you will forthwith entertain a higher opinion of Mr Secretary Pepys; for a clear understanding and some sharp bits of insight are in the pleasureloving officer of the Admiralty, and he does not fail to despatch your affairs out of hand with the true economy of promptitude, having various more pleasurable engagements in his faithful memory. And now it is

noon perhaps Mr Pepys has a venison pasty at home, where his wife, "poor wretch," grumbles to know of the gay programme of her husband's afternoon, yet is not without projects of her own, and is little less fine in her tabby gown, turned and newly laced, than Samuel himself; and now, having locked up our office like a good subject and honest official, having dined with our wife at home like a loyal and loving husband, and generally satisfied all the requirements of duty and propriety-now for our own private and particular delights. It is odd if these twinkling eyes do not make observations at the playhouse, piquant and relishing, of the regnant Mrs Nelly, or the presumptuous my lady, who fills with scandalised but most lively curiosity a hundred lookers-on more scrupulous than Mr Pepys; and perhaps a little episode behind the scenes gives a still more piquant conclusion to the beloved divertisement. Then, it may be, we have a stroll in the Exchange, to cheapen gloves of a famous beauty, who does not disdain to vend her delicate wares, embroidered in gold, to the Court gallants, among whom we swagger with the best; and close by here is some singular rarity, which may be a fine picture, or an old awful emblazoned manuscript, an artful automaton, or a conjuror, to whom many-bladed knives and burning coals are wholesome daily fare, but which, whatever it is, we do not fail, with most observant curiosity, to see and take diligent note of. From this we hasten, with still more pleasurable anticipations, to present to our Valentine the embroidered gloves we have just purchased from the humbler beauty, but passing near our own house encounter, much discomfited, the French servant of a Mr Somebody whom our wife has had acquaintance with in France, and are straightway overwhelmed with a host of suchlike small jealousies as we ourselves complacently compassionate in our wife; after which, though on returning home we have a very nice supper and much music, playing on the viol ourselves with great relish, and listening to the songs of our companions, we find the day somewhat beclouded looking back upon it, especially as

our wife," poor wretch" no longer, is discovered in high spirits; and so, having posted our diary, "to bed," with more virtuous resolutions for the morrow.

So, according to the representation of each, is the daily life of John Evelyn and of Samuel Pepys. A large amount of business somehow or other manages to get transacted by the bustling hands of the pleasure-loving secretary; and it is wonderful how much grave and decorous festivity, sight-seeing, and merry-making, accumulate in the busy days of the lofty gentleman, his neighbour and contemporary. Both have their hands full of perpetual negotiations; not a manoeuvring mamma in a fashionable novel makes more matches than the learned and courtly Evelyn; and as for Samuel, his gloryings over one successful enterprise of the kind, his delight at my lady's acknowledgment of his cousinship, and his tribulations on account of the bashful bridegroom, are as amusing as they are characteristic. No modern glossings over of the bargain, no sentimentality of attachment or congenial feelings, are necessary in these honest records; it is enough, as well for the high-principled Evelyn as for the less particular Pepys, that the estates and possessions of their protégés are congenial, and afford mutual satisfaction, whereupon they proceed with downright sincerity to the less important matter of personal introduction, nor leave the passive pair, whom we can scarcely suspect of being the principal performers, till their little drama of a day is fairly concluded, with settlements signed and responses given, and another wedding added to the records of fate. Other negotiations besides these occupy the active minds of the contemporaries. Mr Secretary has much in his power, and can procure contracts, victuallings, shipbuildings, for such honest craftsmen as recommend themselves in a due and satisfactory manner to his human or official preference; and Mr Evelyn stands, a sort of self-constituted plenipotentiary and ambassador, between the arts and their noble patrons-between the great nobleman who does not know the value of his antiquities, and the eager representatives of learning who

the remains of a turkey for the Sunday's dinner, and who has rather a secluded life of it in the garret at this present writing, but who for the rest seems to have wonderfully little to grumble at very much less than she comes to have by-and-by in Samuel's own person-and is my dear wife, and affectionately considered-there appears the father, whom Samuel finds in his "cutting-house" at his honest trade of tailor, and of whom, with his mother, he has a very unsatisfactory leave-taking on his going to sea, "without having them to drink or say anything of business one to another," -a brother John, who becomes visible as a scholar at Paul's school, having his declamation overlooked and corrected for him by Samuel, who is a good brother-another, Tom, cursorily mentioned afterwards as carrying home a new coat with silver buttons to the rising Admiralty official,-and sundry "cozins," who cross the stage now and then, giving and receiving dinners, advices, and such matters of ordinary reciprocity. The ground is strangely shifted in this second family group, from the lofty kinsfolk of Wotton and Godstone, the ambassador father-in-law, and magnificent connections of Evelyn and his wife; yet by no means contemptible people are these merry citizens, pleasure-loving and feast-giving, with their own pretensions, quite as decided, though of a lesser order of greatness. The time is manifestly a crisis, and vexed with cross currents of intelligence from every hand, poor good Richard Cromwell having broken down under the weight of his father's truncheon, the woeful Rump not knowing what to make of its dreary burden of life, and General Monk advancing towards the city-a powerful but uncomprehended fate, touching whose intentions the public mind is in great doubt and wonder. This public mind, like Pepys' own, seems to be fully more eager to hear of change than active to bring it about, and waits with great curiosity and eagerness, as the exhausted public mind, not fertile in expedients, is apt to wait for the command and leading of some visible Influence great enough to give authority to the general wish. At the coffee-house-at the House itself, where there is an undeniable

"muddle," and nothing half so grateful as coffee-in Westminster Hall, at church, and in every public place, all sorts of rumours are to be heard of, till rumour grows almost weary of perpetual self-contradiction. About this time occurs a pretty glimmer of picture, which shows that Samuel has an eye for the picturesque. General Monk has been appointed general-inchief of all the forces in the three kingdoms, and there is a universal satisfaction, although no other positive changes seem to be known. In Westminster Hall Pepys meets with Locke and Purcell, famous masters in their melodious art, and the three go to a coffee-house, where they are placed at windows overlooking the water. Before them lies the Thames, "the silent highway"-not over silent, one may conclude, in this time of public excitement-and full of the swift shooting wherries and gay barges, more graceful to see than coach and omnibus, which make a constant communication between the City and learned and stately Westminster. Purcell and Locke, and Pepys himself, who is no contemptible musician, sing "brave songs" by the windows of the coffee-house. The air tingles with the joyful sound of bells; the February afternoon, sunny and red, shines on the animated river, and, looking down its gay and busy tide, the chronicler says, "Here out of the windows it was a most pleasant sight to see the city, from one end to the other, with a glory about it, so high was the light of the bonfires, and so thick round the city, and the bells rang everywhere."

Almost immediately my lord emerges from the darkness, goes to sea-which is to say, lies in the Channel, waiting the turn of events-taking with him this faithful historian; and finally has the honourable office of bringing home the king. The most noticeable thing in this part of the record, and the most amusing, is the unfailing industry and pains of Samuel in picking up all the small perquisites and fees pertaining to his office. His "half-piece," which he gets from a person who would be chaplain; his whole piece and twenty shillings in silver from the captain whose commission he draws; his various droppings in of little streams of revenue; his addings up and thanks