of England, being a great and rich collar of balasrubies, most beauteous to be behold.

But, ah me! how little can we blinded mortals deem of the future, by that which we look upon of the present; for how might some of us who thus witnessed Henry's unlooked-for act of piety, think that, long ere our mortal course was run, he should become the fiercest enemy and subverter of those very shrines and monasteries which he now so deeply venerated. And, yet farther, how might the mind of man ever conceive, that the self-same effigy which was then so gloriously bedecked, and which the king approached so reverently to adorn yet more with his own princely gift, should, even at his command, be despoiled of all its treasures; violently torn down from the altar where it had so long stood; and, at last, be defiled and openly burned at Chelsea, in the stormy year of 1539, with such foul scoffings and revilings, that truly my pen refuseth to record them?

But beside King Henry, there was at this time a certain other pilgrim came unto Walsingham with a devout offering; the same being one Peter Blount, an ancient goldsmith of good fame, who had long dwelled in Lombard-street, in the city of London, but was now removed unto Norwich: and when the king had left the altar, he came forward thereunto, in far less state, albeit little less to the pleasure of our brotherhood. He presented himself at our shrine, because he deemed it good for his soul's health to bring thither certain gifts; having, as he said, long purposed to make such disposition of some part of his substance, in

commend Master Blount for his devotion and charity, wherein he had rightly followed the command of our Lord, in the Gospel, "Facite vobis amicos de Mammona iniquitatis," make unto you friends of the mammon of iniquity; and farther declared, that he had been right wise in delaying no longer to gain him that quiet of mind which he would assuredly receive from perfecting so pious a vow. The goldsmith replied unto this, that the lord prior had well said, for that when worn by care, or toil, or the coming infirmities of old age, he ofttimes thought that his good intent would at last be too late for his rest hereafter; and that, peradventure, he might be called away from earth ere he found space to perform it at all.

"And well I ween, good friend," responded the prior, "that all men have great cause to think and act as thou hast done; for our mortal bodies be like unto buildings, which yearly, and daily, and hourly, are being taken down, or are falling into decay. But how soon the ruin shall be finished, we know not; and therefore it becometh us at once to do that which we would perform, and to mark well what our Lord hath said, •Vigilate, itaque, quia nescitis diem neque horam: watch ye, therefore, because ye know not the day nor the hour."-The prior added hereunto, with wondrous prudence and gravity, though, as methought with somewhat of dishonest covetise,that, seeing the goldsmith was now far advanced in years, and it was a full long and toilsome journey unto Dartford ;-peradventure it should tend as much unto his weal hereafter, if he should add that which he designed for the sisterhood there,

unto the gifts he had already made unto our house and shrine. Yet, natheless, did our superior say, if Master Blount did still persist in his first intent of bestowing aught at Dartford, it should be carried thither for him; if not by the prior in person, yet by some safe and speedy messenger: for, that although the goldsmith had once vowed to go thither himself, yet might he be absolved therefrom by reason of his infirmity, upon sending his offering and journeying thither in spirit.

This courteous offer was gladly received by the goldsmith, and this course being concluded on, he departed from Walsingham well satisfied at having performed both his vows and offerings with such easy labour. Howbeit, some weeks passed away, ere we received Master Blount's waxen taper and other gifts for the Dartford nuns; but then did it become matter of debate in the chapter as to the messengers who should be sent with the same: and it was at last resolved that they should be intrusted unto Father George Gisborough, some time sub-prior of our house, and myself. He, I do hope and believe, is now with God; albeit he died by the late King Henry's command, as did many other pious men, for not acknowledging his supremacy over the church, and not consenting to surrender unto him our abbey and monastery.

For mine own part, albeit there was much honour in the appointment of my brethren, and I scrupled not to go forth at their call, long and toilsome as the journey might be, yet was it not an employ which I did at all covet. For, beside that I felt no desire to look again upon the world,

I knew that I could not travel through London without the painfullest memory of the days that were gone, and of my former dreams of love and the Lady Bride; the which, though now resigned for ever, were, nevertheless, still much too dear unto me. Howbeit, I addressed me to the journey, but all this did I feel in travelling into Kent through Southwark, as I saw the distant towers of Bermondsey Abbey, and bethought me of our last strange and fatal interview therein, with all -the chances which had since followed. Yet, notwithstanding these most sad remembrances, I paused not, but with my companions kept forward unto Dartford with all the speed we might; and, within seven days, we arrived at that most fair convent of Austin-nuns, which the piety of the third King Edward of England founded and dedicated unto the holy Saints Mary and Magaret. It was now, as I do full well remember, the eve of the Feast of St. Martin, Tuesday, the 10th day of November, about the hour of Nones, and one of the fairest and brightest days which the departing year could show, being like its last smile cast upon the coming winter, or the glad tranquillity of a saint looking upon approaching death.

I was much rejoiced, at thus seeing our long and wearisome journey of nearly 130 miles, brought unto its conclusion; and I may not conceal that I also felt somewhat of worldly pride and pleasure, in looking forward unto the honourable welcome we should receive, from being the bearers of such costly gifts and good tidings unto the convent. But when we declared our names and mission unto an ancient nun at the gate, and thereupon desired to see the lady prioress, I felt