"I CAN never finish this picture, Sir Anthony; it does not please me at all," said the fair artist, as she rested her pallette on her lap, while the hand which held her pencil fell listlessly at her side. "I will try no more," she continued, fixing her gaze half sadly, half disdainfully on the easel where stood the unfinished portrait of Edmund Waller!

This youth, for he had not yet attained his twentieth year, was already a great favourite with the ladies of the court of Charles the First. His sweet songs that he sung sweetly to the accom. paniment of his Spanish guitar, which he touched with exquisite skill, had already won him the coveted smiles of Lady Dorothea Sydney, (so well known as "Sacharissa,") and even Queen Henrietta herself, had deigned to bestow praises on the handsome minstrel poet. But there was among the ladies who attended the queen, one whom the young favourite had never been able to charm either by his poetry or music. This was the lovely and accomplished Mary Gowry, usually designated by the king, and, of course, by all others, as the "fair artist."

Mary Gowry was the orphan daughter of the unfortunate Lord Gowry-and after his death, VOL. XXVII.-9

she had been brought up by her aunt, the old lady Morton, in her secluded country residence. There the young girl became an enthusiastic admirer of the beauties of nature, and after the favour of Queen Henrietta towards her Catholic subjects and their descendants, had sought out Mary, and established her as maid of honour in the elegant and refined court over which she presided, this taste it probably was, which led the new favourite to cultivate her talents for painting. She loved quiet and retirement, and her devotion to her pencil was permitted by the queen to apologize for the little interest which Mary seemed to take in the amusements of the court.

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The revelations of Miss Burney, in her lately published Memoirs," must have dissipated all the pleasant illusions with which the fancies of young ladies or gentlemen may have invested life in a palace. A more uncomfortable place of residence for rational beings can scarcely be imagined. The slavery of royal etiquette which never relaxes, never even sleeps without its fetters, which subdues the mind while it controls the every movement of the body, is a burden so revolting to the free spirit, that, when reading descriptions of the routine, it seems impossible that men, or even

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