days of apprenticeship are behind him and he is to ride into the wide world to seek his fortune. His shrewd father, looking ahead to the day which is shortly approaching when the great Queen shall pass away, has planned a visit for his son to Scotland, which is already a land of promise to those in search of place and future promotion. Nicholas gives his son sixty pounds and much good advice, and grants his clerk, John Guilby, leave of absence to ride with Master Tom to the City of Edinburgh with letters of introduction from the great Sir Robert Cecil himself and other of his friends.

The wise youth fully understands the purport of his mission; he has written already to his Oxford friend, William Cornwallis, son of Sir Charles, who was Prince Henry's guardian, and he has assured him of a hearty welcome and introductions to the Court and the King's

servants.

The day of departure arrives, and on a bright summer morning the horses are brought round and the family and servants gather in front of the great door of the house to say farewell. The good Nicholas babbles repetition of sage counsel, the poor mother clings to her first-born with tears and entreaty, mingling texts of blessing with warnings of damp sheets and evil women. The younger children wave their hero a joyous farewell, envying him his flight from the nest.

He continues courteous, kindly tolerating their fussy goodwill, but eager to be away, and at last breaks from his mother's embrace and jumps into his saddle. At the corner of the wood he turns round and dutifully waves farewell, and as he sees the last of the old house his heart beats with joy. His sacrifices are to be rewarded. His foot is now on the threshold of the open world.

For just as Thomas Overbury had taken no interest in the ancientry of his college or their present excellence at football, so he had no will to play the elder brother and smell of horses and dogs and soil his hands with baking, brewing, and greasing. He had great ambitions

of public service, and looked to Scotland to provide him with new patrons and opportunities. His own abilities would do the rest.

Through Stratford, Warwick, and Coventry they made their way to the North Road, journeying in leisurely fashion, and reaching Berwick in some ten days or a fortnight, for they stayed at York a whole day and rested twice at friends' houses. Thence riding along the coast to Dunbar and through Haddington, they reached the links of Musselburgh, and were now in sight of the crags of Edinburgh. Entering the city, they placed their horses at a stable and took lodgings in the Bell-wind, and the next day Master Overbury presented himself to his friend, William Cornwallis, who received his fellow-student with open arms. Together they visited the Castle and the Courts, where Overbury was greatly impressed with the fourteen Lords sitting in the inner house in their robes of violet, faced with crimson, which was a more imposing sight than any that he had seen in Westminster Hall.

Sir Robert Cecil had given him several important letters of introduction, which he duly presented, and waited on the Lords and gentlemen to whom they were addressed. One of these, Mr. Edward Bruce, received him with the greatest courtesy, and it was through his influence that the Earl of Mar was graciously pleased to present the young man at Court, mentioning to His Majesty that he had been sent to Edinburgh by Sir Robert Cecil, the Queen's Secretary. Upon this His Majesty was pleased to inquire very kindly after Sir Robert's health, and discoursed with Master Overbury in the Latin tongue, correcting his accent, but praising his syntax.

It became clear to the wise youth that many at Holyrood were in near touch with Whitehall, and that it was almost openly spoken that Sir Robert had decided for the Scots succession. Overbury was closely examined by Mr. Bruce and the Earl of Mar as to the condition

of affairs in England, and the talk of the lawyers and the gossip of St. Paul's, about which he replied with such modesty and intelligence that his hosts were well pleased with the young man and commended him for his bearing.

He had rested as pleasantly as a man might in the somewhat coarse surroundings of the city for several summer weeks when Mr. Edward Bruce invited him to his country seat, which was on the west side of Loch Leven. Here he found a very pretty park with many natural walks in it and neat gardens and orchards, and especially a great abundance of cherry trees, bearing a large and sweet black cherry. The house and grounds were well sheltered with great sycamores and fine fir trees.

In this pleasant abode he remained for several weeks and enjoyed excellent sport, fishing in the Loch and the neighbouring streams. Mr. Bruce had two sons of about Overbury's own age, and a young cousin of fourteen was staying at the house. He was a rough young fellow but well formed, with curly auburn hair and a merry smile, and seemed to have neither care nor ambition for anything but sport and good living. He had been a page at Holyrood for a few weeks, but his careless manners had led to his dismissal. His task had been to say the Latin grace before meat and the blessing at the end of dinner in unison with two other boys of his own age. But his blunders in the business had caused a breakdown in the blessing, which had angered the King, and the boy was sent home.

His parents had arranged for him to go to France with Lord Hay in the autumn, and there it was hoped he would acquire better manners. Robert Carr, for that was the boy's name-Robin to his companionstook a great fancy to young Master Overbury, and listened to his wise talk with the open mouth of veneration. Master Tom, on his part, played the patron to the lad whom he christened the young Sun-God, and told him tales of college life and the Temple and the London playhouses and taverns and ordinaries, so that

the pretty Scots boy thought him a veteran in vice and adventure and honoured him accordingly. Mr. Bruce laughed at the friendship of the grave student and the rough out-door lad, and nick-named them David and Jonathan.

One night they came into supper after a glorious day of sport. Kale and broth, powdered beef, mutton, roast and boiled, venison pies, or goose, and cheese, all disappeared before the tide of their hunger, and the serving-men were kept running for cups of strong ale to the cellar.

When supper was over Robert brought round a last cup of beer and a wheat loaf and a knife, playing the page not without a winning grace as he handed Mr. Bruce and each of his guests first the cup and then cut them a little bread and recited, in his clear treble, the old rubric, "Incipe cum liquido sicco finire memento.' "It will be the last memento, I fear," said Mr. Bruce to Overbury.

"Then you have work for me to do, sir?" said Overbury with pleasure.

"You are to be the honoured bearer of messages for your patron, Sir Robert. We may say that openly this side of the border, but after Berwick you will not boast of your errand.”

Master Overbury nodded sagely. His good sense was not likely to be blurred by excitement. His heart may have beat a little faster within, but he accepted the honour as a turn in the wheel of fortune he had a right to expect. Mr. Bruce admired the calmness of the youth. It gave him a sense of safety in his mission. Overbury was elated and happy, for he had made his mark among these great ones. He had been chosen for service. He had won his spurs. He was going to bear the King's own letter to Sir Robert Cecil, and Cecil would have to receive him personally as a messenger from royalty. His foot was on the ladder, the top of which was lost in the clouds. He had commenced.

He rose to go to the stables and give orders to Guilby for an early start. Robin Carr had slipped out of the hall, unnoticed.

"I shall not see you, I fear, to-morrow, and maybe we shall not meet again," said Mr. Bruce rather sadly. "I have enjoyed your company here vastly, and you must tell your good father I envy him so sensible a son."

Master Overbury raised Mr. Bruce's hand to his lips and kissed it reverently. He made his adieu to the sons and their friends and went out across the courtyard, to the servants' quarters, to give orders for the morning.

As he went up to his bedroom he remembered he had not said farewell to his young friend, Carr. He would miss the company of that golden lad, and he was sorry he could not carry him away as his page. He smiled at the idea, thinking what a useless luxury his service would be to anyone who gave him employ.

He passed the boy's room and pushed the door open. The lad was lying on his trestle bed, sobbing as if his heart would break. Overbury laid his hand on his shoulder in kindly sympathy.

"Why, Robin, this is playing the girl."

But the boy was not to be shamed out of his sorrow, and wept and sobbed and refused to be comforted, crying out that it was like death, and they would never meet again. Master Overbury had never seen, and could not himself feel such love of friendship, but he pitied the boy and took him by his hand and sat by him for a while until he was calmer, and then, like a kind father, kissed him on his forehead and bade him good night.

As the young man lay awake thinking over his good. fortune and rehearsing his interview with the great Secretary, the vision of the tear-stained face of his young friend threw his thoughts aside and he found himself murmuring with a sigh: "Very pleasant hast thou been unto me; thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women." Though why a wise youth,