shed light. At the opposite ends of the widened recess are two costly cabinets, and near one of these is a richly decorated spinet which was made in Rome in 1680 for Christina, Queen of Sweden. In this room, too, are a pair of riding-boots which belonged to Algernon Sidney, that premature republican who lost his head on the testimony of a book he had written but had not published.

Penshurst has gathered other interesting associations than those immediately concerned with Sir Philip Sidney. Ben Jonson was a frequent visitor here, and his visits have left their impress on his verse. In "The Forest," for example, there occurs a lengthy description of Penshurst, in the midst of which we happen upon a pleasing picture of the kindly relationship which existed between its noble owners and the retainers of the estate.

"And though thy walls be of the country stone,

They're reared with no man's ruin, no man's groan;
There's none that dwell about them wish them down.

But all come in, the farmer and the clown,

And no one empty-handed to salute

Thy lord and lady, though they have no suit.

Some bring a capon, some a rural cake,

Some nuts, some apples, some think they make
The better cheeses, bring them; or else send
By their ripe daughters, whom they would commend
This way to husbands, and whose baskets bear
An emblem of themselves in plum or pear."

Go, boy, and carve this passion on the bark
Of yonder tree, which stands the sacred mark
Of noble Sidney's birth; and when such benign,
Such more than mortal-making stars did shine;
That there they cannot but for ever prove
The monument and pledge of humble love:

His humble love, whose hope shall ne'er rise higher,
Than for a pardon that he dares admire."

It was all in vain. Neither Waller's bold hyperbole nor his pretence of humility had any power over Saccharissa's heart. She looked for a higher social status than Waller could give, and eventually became the Countess of Sunderland. But Waller had his revenge. When Saccharissa had lost both her husband and her youth, she, on meeting the poet, thoughtlessly asked when he would again write such verses upon her. "When," replied he, "you are as young, Madam, and as handsome as you were then."

III

MEMORIALS OF WILLIAM PENN