King Charles at Bentley. BY DR. PLOTT. "BEING now come to Bentley, whither my Lord Wilmot had removed before, and was ready to receive him; after his majesty had eaten, and conferred with my lord and the collonel about his intended journey toward Bristol next morning, he went to bed, where he rested not long, being called up by the collonel by break of day, who, takeing away his leather doublet and patch't green breeches, now cloathed him with a suit and cloak of country-green cloath, like a farmer's son, putting twenty pounds in his pocket to bear the charges of his journey. Being thus accoutred, after he had refreshed himself and taken leave of the Lord Wilmot, he was conducted by the Coll. a back way into the stable, where, after a few instructions how to act the part of a tenant's son, (which they thought a quality more convenient for their intention than that of a direct servant,) he brought the horse to the gate, with his hat under his arme, having assumed the name of William Jackson, and took up Mrs. Jane Lane behind him; and so, in company with Mr. Henry Lassels, and Mr. Peters and his wife, the collonel's sister, who were then accidentally at his house, and who were now goeing homewards, they took their journey toward Stratford-upon-Avon, taking leave of Bentley For these signal services his majesty, upon his wonderful restoration to his kingdoms A.D., 1660, did not only remunerate all persons concern'd in his miraculous preservation with royal pensions, payable out of the exchequer, proportionable to each man's quality and service, but honored this gent. more especially, (as he did Coll. Carlos), even after his death, with a royal badge or acknowledgment of his royalty and fidelity, by adding to his coat armour a canton of England, to be set up and used in memory of them by his posterity for ever; and out of his singular gratitude to him, would have had his body buried amongst the kings at Westminster, had not this heroe before his death most modestly refused it: all which appears from the Letters Patents and Warrants of the King, Earl Marshall, Kings, and Heralds of Armes; and the epitaph upon his stately tomb at Wolverhampton, set up by the worshipfull Tho. Lane, Esq., son and heir of his virtues as well as his estate; which for the singularity and further notoriety of the thing are here annext. To all and singular to whom these presents shall come, We, the Kings, Heralds, and Pursuivants of Armes, send greeting, Whereas, the Right Honorable Henry Earl of Peterborrou, Deputy, with his Majesty's approbation, to the Right Honorable Henry, Earl of Norwich, Earl Marshall of England, hath under his hand and seale of the Earl Marshall's office, signified unto us his Majestie's royal will and pleasure, touching an augmentation to the Paternal Armes of John Lane, of Bentley, in the County of Stafford, lawfully issued in these words.-Whereas, the King's most excellent • Extracted from Plott's History of Staffordshire. Majesty hath under his signet and signe manual, signified unto me, Henry, Earl of Peterborrou, Deputy (with his Majestie's approbation) to the Right Honorable Henry, Earle of Norwich, Earl Marshall of England, his royal pleasure, touching an augmentation to the Paternal Coat of the descendants lawfully issued from the body of John Lane, of Bentley, in the County of Stafford, Esq, in these words:'Charles R., to our right, trusty, and right well-beloved Cosin, Henry, Earl of Norwich, Earle Marshall of England, greeting. We call to mind the great and signal service performed to us by John Lane, of Bentley, in the County of Stafford, deceased, in his ready concurring to the preservation of our Royal Person, after the battle of Worcester; at which time contemning the threatenings publisht by the murtherers of our Royal Father against any who should conceal or afsist us, and disdaining the rewards proposed to such as would be instrumental in the discovery and destruction of our Person, and not valueing any hazard his family might run, with the duty of an unspotted allegiance, did by his great prudence and fidelity so conduct us, that we were able at length to retire to places of safety beyond the seas; have, therefore, of our own free-will and proper motion, given and granted unto the descendants lawfully issued from the body of the said John Lane, this honorable remuneration, as a notable mark or badge of his constant fidelity : that is to say, henceforth, they shall bear in augmentation Paternal Armes, three lyons passant quendant, or in a Canton Gu. And our will and pleasure is that you doe require and command our servants, the Kings and Officers of Armes, to Marshall and set up in all proper places, and upon all occasions, the Paternal Armes of the said John Lane, with the augmentation aforesaid; and that you also direct and require the Register of our College of Armes to cause this our concession to be duly entered upon Record in our said College. Given under our Royal Signet and Signe Manual this 12th day of July, A.D. 1677, and in the 29th year of our Rayne. The Orphan's Dream. BY J. E. CARPENTER. We laid him weeping on his couch, In vain to catch the snow-white robe In vain we told him she had fled His eye no more seemed beaming, 'Twas but when he was dreaming! His hand had clutched the snow-white robe, Notting Hill, London. Barr Beacon: A CHRISTMAS TALE. BY LENTHAL TRELLIS. STANDING on the summit of Barr Beacon and gazing in a south-easterly direction, one may see amidst the broad rich prospect of meadows, and fields, and woods, and streams, and lowly cots, and cosy homesteads, and stately halls, a large white house standing out clear and plain in the landscape, distinct from all other leading features of the varied picture. It is an old-looking house, but with no touch of decay. It is a stately house yet, with no unbecoming pride. There are many great houses to be seen here and there, but none like this. I remember riding slowly by it one summer afternoon; I had let the reins fall loosely on the horse's neck when we entered the narrow lane that runs past, and as I came near, I had leisure to note the leading features of this quiet-looking home. On the gable wall were set the figures 1558. How my thoughts flashed back at that. Three hundred years old! On one side was a large, well-stocked farm-yard; on the other, a mixture of lawn and garden, gradually descending from the house to where a pretty little trout stream rippled along. Few strangers ever passed by; so the sight of a horseman slowly wending along, with the appearance of one whose business seemed to be to admire the place and the scenery around, exacted a little curious wonder in the mind of the girl who was leaning over the wicket gate that opened into the lawn aforesaid. I saw from a distance before I came up to the house that she was playing heartily with a pet dog on the lawn, and now as she came and leant on the gate, the bright colour flushed her cheeks, and I could not but turn and admire her, as I do all pretty flowers that I see. But she was not pretty-had not finely-cut features, bewitching eyes, or angelie mien. 'Twas strange! but somehow before another week passed, I chanced to pass that way again, and there, innocent of crinoline or pot-shaped hat, the girl was at work in the garden, her masses of hair (neither golden nor raven, but ordinary brown) hanging loosely over neck and shoulders. She looked up from her work, and a smile of recognition passed over her face, but she did not come and speak, though we had a pleasant chat before. Her silence was not strange, and yet I felt rather disappointed as I left the old house behind. "Twas three months ere I rode down that lane again; summer had passed away, and autumn was growing into winter. I have always been fond of long, lonely rides, but that day, with trees and hedges half bared around me; with bare, brown fields, tenanted by doubtful-looking quadrupeds; with flocks of hungry birds flying overhead, crying their strange, hungry winter cry; and with long, rank weeds, and the stalks of dead flowers lying soaking in the muddy pools underfoot, I enjoyed a taste of that true, holy melancholy, which is a nowise grievous thing. The horse knew the way, and without guidance, made all the right twists and turns, and walked leisurely down the lane. Standing in the garden or by the gate was no longer the sunny girl I looked for, but in the road by the house, a woman I thought mad. She was gesticulating wildly, and shouting at the top of her voice the names of several men, and then, hearing no reply, fell to mourning wildly. A few minutes more, and I stood within the hall of the old house, gazing upon a sight never to be forgotten. Stretched on the floor was the lifeless form of the girl who had seemed so beautiful those two summer days. I had calmed the mad woman, and she told me that the girl, her only suddenly fell a heavy beam, The maidservants had run daughter, was standing in the hall, when and smote her to the ground without a cry. for the master, who was away on the farm, and she was alone with the dead child. I lifted the body and bore it to a low settle or couch near the fire in the adjoining room. Neither then, nor when I had applied a few simple restoratives, could I discern sign of life. Mounting my horse, and getting proper directions from the poor woman, I galloped away for the doctor three miles off, and finding him by chance just leaving his house on horseback, we both returned at full speed. I need not describe how 'twas done, but simply say that after much patient effort, a little life was brought back, to the infinite joy of the whole household, who were now assembled, and of the stranger, who was there by such a mere chance. But a long illness followed that well-nigh mortal blow; and though week after week I rode to the old house, and was always welcomed though quite a stranger, yet many months passed by before the girl's strong young life mastered her illness, and she was her own old self again. But spring and summer came and went, and another spring and summer came, and the sunny girl had grown into a woman; not, perhaps, beautiful, but yet, most loveable; and we two loved. Christmas came, and I was there then-my horse in the stable, my hat in the hall. We sat in a large oak-wainscotted room, with a merry fire on the hearthstone, (one of the true old hearthstones, real rarities this hundred years.) John Wilton, the master of that house, which had been a Wilton's home for centuries, was a noble yeoman; Alicia Wilton, his wife, was a comely woman; and Mary, their daughter, my beloved, was such as I have said. That circle might have been larger, but one was not. The only son, the pride of the father's heart, the joy of the mother's eye, was far away -a stranger in a strange land. I had heard the story-the old, old story of the youth's dreams breaking the bounds of the quiet homestead, and of the youth in his first bravery and strength wandering out into the great wide world. He had been a sailor, and on such a night as this, twelve months ago, came news that he was wrecked and lost in seas far away. We talked of him that Christmas Eve. Gusts of chilly wind shook the trees round the old house, and beat the snow against the windows, and filled every nook and cranny; and within, the fire leapt and crackled, and blazed, as the great log began to break, and amid the pleasure of that Christmas Eve, there was a touch of sadness for thought of that one far away. One was with us whose whole soul seemed so absorbed. She was Mary Wilton's cousin. She dwelt at a noble homestead close under the Beacon. Many a time had Robert Wilton ridden thither, and those two vowed vows, deep and strong, as any such vowed since the world began. When the youth was tempted away from the quiet fields to the billowy sea the maiden's love waxed the more, and since the news of the wreck came she had mourned, though silently, yet as one who would never be comforted. She was very beautiful, even in sadness, and reminded me much of St. Cecilia in her dream. But in presence of others' joy, she would try to joy also. Kinsmen and |