serves almost entire insertion, as it is | dale's mirth to the full, we find him again couched in his finest and most character istic vein. in spleen and insubordination. The oc- The Earl of Tweeddale having come to town, was pleased that night to give me the honour of a visit, and to present me with two letters from the King, and one from my Lord of Canterbury. After reading of them, I must confesse the intimation given by your Lo was made good to the full; my expectations had exceeded all measure, had I not been highly satisfied. I could desire no more for the Church at this tyme, and for myself his Maties hand with the diamond seal was to me as a resurrection from the dead. Where obligations swell so high as to overflow all returns of gratitude, the expression must fall short of the sense: I find, indeed, I have to do with persons of honor and conscience who have said little but done much. I may know now how to make estimates; your Lo has not dealt with me by halves; by you I am restored to the good opinion of my most gracious master, which is dearer to me than my lyfe; I believe I am redintegrated to your Lp's favour, the ecclipsing of which has been as bitter to me as death what more can be done to give me a title to call myself to all the world wholly, your Lo's, so that if there be any reserve, or any corner in my heart which by accidents of tyme can be dispossessed of sincere zeal for your service, I think the railings of "Naphthali" shall justly fall upon me. I have communicated the King's public letter to 3 Bishops and some ministers here: they think they have cause to bless and pray for the King" The Archbishop is highly pleased with and for your L'p; and now to be out of fear gaining my Lord Duke, and with all that that in the late transactions I had done dis- is done, that he will deny nothing I deservice to the Church; God hath tended me in sire him. Mr. Douglas was with me 2 many times since I entered upon this office, hours yesternight, the Archbishop will but never so as in this, and though I had mis- deny me nothing concerning him, and I carryed, yet such has been your noble care of am now about getting a blank presenta me, as under the King's hand to send me more tion to a kirk in Fife for him." than a remission, if my carriage should meet with a public challenge. . . . They, the Bishops, may see that you have shown yourself to be an able statesman and faithful minister to the crown; that you have no less generous ends than dexterous disposing of your actions towards those ends: when the true arts and grounds of government with the felicity of prudent and steady managery meet in the King's chief ministers, no greater encourage ment for Churchmen to pray hopefully.. As to what I have heard is ordered to the Lords Commissioners of the Thesaurary in reference to me, I shall not pay my thanks, but say that as to advantage of that nature I intendit to seek nothing in your favour but your favour itself, so, whatever hath of your own accord been done, I owe it to your goodness, and pryde it most because it flows from that spring, and thus conclud with my blessing and prayers for your Lo, my noble Lady, my Lord Yester, and my Lady with the little man. Within six months of these outpourings, which must have excited Lauder Only a week later, and Sharp was again irritating his masters by his unreliable ness. On the 25th of June T Tweeddale says: "Mr. Douglas was with me yesternight, and is fairly advanced towards acceptance; but this morning my Lord St. Andrews giving me a visit is like to flee off and wander in his resolution according to his custom;" and he adds, on the 30th, "the plan sticks now at the Archbishop, who begins again to waver. The Provost tells me he will never be at quyet till he see you to put matters right between you face to face, and, by your help, with the king." On July 10th the first attempt was made 23, 129, 92. † 23, 129, f. 116. upon Sharp's life; the following short note by Tweeddale is all that we hear of his carriage: "All imaginable industry is used, and pains taken to discover it; yet the Archbishop whines still, and speaks still of overturning and revolution." * and the complete control of Scottish affairs, came down as high commissioner in 1669, he came with two objects of the first importance. The one was to raise and place at Charles's sole and unfettered disposal an army of twenty thousand men, Sharp now urged his request to be al- who might be counted upon for any serlowed to go to court to ratify his peace vice within his dominions that he chose with Lauderdale. Tweeddale writes of to demand. The other was to render the the proposed visit as he might of that of subjection of the Church complete and a troublesome child; he advises Lauder- beyond question. By the Act of Supremdale to let Sharp do as he wishes, since | acy, which accomplished this, it was dethe bishop will take it as a favor to their clared that the crown was supreme in the order, and since he has promised "to be- external government of the Church; that have extraordinar well."† From a letter all things relating to ecclesiastical meetof the 30th we find that Lauderdale made ings, matters, and persons, were in the no objection, for "My Lord St. A. is very decision of the king, acting through the well pleased that you are content he Privy Council, and that his directions had came" but at the same time Sharp the force of laws. A more drastic meas. complains that he has received no official ure it would be difficult to imagine. We call, so that he cannot charge his travel are not surprised that, when it was first ling expenses. "It is lik," adds Tweed- placed before him, Sharp was unable to dale, "he will be as well natured as you accept it with complacency, and that he desir, but it wer too soon for me to speek once more broke out into pettish remon of." A fortnight later, however, on Au- strances. But he was in the toils; and in gust 15th, he deems it necessary to add a the presence of the man who, as he was Caution: § "Take need he be not trouble- well aware, knew him thoroughly, his some; for his working head will be find cowardice, his vanity, his knavery in all ing out devices to screw things up." And its turns and shallows, and who would not on the 19th, when Tweeddale again || hesitate for a moment to crush him, if it sounded him on the "outed ministers,' were to his purpose to do so, he speedily Sharp found that he had "no stomach to assumed the part which was more familiar their coming in." to him than that of honest resistance. The man who wrote the letters of 1660 and 1661 to Drummond; who became the henchman at once of Archbishop Sheldon and of Lauderdale; who harried the Covenanters among the moss-hags and on the hillsides, and drove them ruthlessly to slavery or to death, and who afterwards made himself the chief agent in inducing his brethren to accept the policy of conciliation, was scarcely the man to champion the cause of Church supremacy against a king possessed of the powers of an almost Oriental despotism and served by well-nigh irresponsible ministers. The letter to Moray which Lauderdale wrote on November 2, 1669, is so brilliant a description of this affair, and of Sharp's part in it, that we cannot close this paper better than by inserting it in full. Sharp went to London at the end of the month, and the visit had the hoped-for effect; he was carefully handled by Lauderdale, and returned in December "in pretty good humor; "¶ and with his as sistance Tweeddale's proposals for filling the vacant parishes were successfully carried out. 66 Matters went on in this fashion, Sharp now and again trying to assert his freedom, "carping at the king's letter," "not knowing what he would be at," complaining to everybody in privat of dangers and feares," "unable to lose his power without much noise and trouble," and be ing immediately reduced to subjection by "nipping answers" from Tweeddale, Kincardine, or Moray. Contempt not only for his political morality, but for his powers, is the prevailing note in their letters at this time. When Lauderdale, who had now acquired the entire confidence of Charles, 23, 129, f. 243. † 23, 129, f. 253. 23, 129, f. 260. $23, 129, f. 288. 23, 129, f. 290. T23, 131, f. 26. said nothing but tooke it to advise. And this drew it, and at starts as we could it was lickt | could, not be medled with by the King. I till Thursday last. Then in the articles I made a very generall proposition in order to it, and named a comitte to prepare it. They were the Archbp, the Bps of Orknay and Dumblane, the D. of Hamilton, the Earles of Tweeddale and Kincardin, the Register, the Advocat, Lee, and the Provest of Edr. On Fryday the act of militia past in Parlt. That afternoone the comittee met. They revised all the former acts, and talked loosely on the matter, but appointed the Register and Advocat to draw the act: which was made ready, and presented to the Comittee yesterday, but it was shewen before unto the Archbp, who as soone as he saw it, and that by it the clogs laid upon the king in the act of restitution were knockt off with ane absolute power in the King to order persons and meetings and matters as should please his Majtie, he took the alarum wondrous haisty and said wilde things to E. of Tweeddale, that all King Henry the 8ths ten yeers worke was now to be done in 3 dayes, that 4 lines in this act were more comprehensive then a hundred and odd sheets of H. 8. The E. Tweeddale answered him calmly that the narrative of their act was as full, and that we had all sworne the oath of supremacie, and could not scruple to enact it more cleirly, but all could not quiet him. He wild came to me. By good luck I was at the Threr till noone. Then he came to me, but I wold not spoyle his stomack to his dinner. Immediately after dinner we had a sound bout, and I dealt freely with him. I knew well his objections, thogh he wold not speake them out. At last he did desire that I wold give him the act to advise with his brethren, wch I consented to, provyding it might be first tabled at the comittee. Now yow must know he had been so towzled by the Duke, the E. Tweeddal and Kincardine, and the Advocat upon the debate of the materialls of the act at the comittee that he had no great feast (?) to buckell any more; onely he made a speech and desired to consider on it that afternoone wch was granted him, so the com. ittee adjornd, and he spent the afternoone with his brethren. In the evening he came to me and after he had receaved ane answer to all his objections, He told me his brethren were so satisfyed with what I had said from the throne in his Majties name, That they wold not scruple to submitt all to him If they knew it were his pleasure. I told him I meant not to give his Royall assent till first his Majtie had seen it. This satisfyed him exceedingly, And then he told me how he had answered all his brethrens objections, But hoped I wold not put them to vote it till I had a returne from the King. I answered That I behoved to have it pass the Articles, but should not bring it in to the parlt Till his Majtie declared his pleasure. At last he desired the addition of one word where the externall government is mentiond adde [as it is settled by Law] This I saw well wold overthrow all, for then the King was Limited, And all the clogs in the act of restitution, Yea his neg. ative vote in the act for the Nationall Sinod LAUDERDALE. Here, for the present, we close these notices. We have, month by month, and almost week by week, during several years, traced the career of Archbishop Sharp, as it appeared to the cool-headed and capable men whom he was compelled to serve. We fear that the hopes that have been at times entertained that he has been a calumniated man must be abandoned. Never did any man have fairer opportunities than those which presented themselves to James Sharp at the Restoration, and never lected. He might have championed the were fair opportunities so blindly neg. cause of a falling Kirk. He might have condoned his apostacy by becoming the mediator in the passions which desolated his country, the protector of those who Half the month was gone; twice a day the Post rattled through the village, the postman lustily blowing his horn to call attention to his arrival, and twice a day Anna Gotthelf left her work to stand at the window and wait for the letter, that never came. Once, as she turned away with a gesture of despair, she caught sight of Ludwig Dorn, who was working at a shop opposite. She beckoned to him, and he came slouching across the street. Are you certain that he received the letter?" she asked. "Certain ?" he repeated with a wondering air, "as certain, Fräulein Aennchen, as that you are the handsomest maiden in the province !" in their own language had, while his ca- From The English Illustrated Magazine. There was a spice of impertinence in his tone that made Anna turn away from him abruptly, half regretting that she had taken him into her confidence. The wind blew from the west, and. melted the snow; there was a breath of spring in the air. How gladly would she have flung off the weight of care that was know by letter or message, that he held Anna The last day came all too soon. "Mütterchen," she said, putting her 66 My dear, good child!" exclaimed Frau Gotthelf, bursting into ecstasies of delight, and entirely forgetting the re proaches with which she had overwhelmed her daughter a few weeks ago; "thou hast been my stay and comfort ever since thy birth!" A smile of pleasure was on Anna's face, as with a parting embrace, she bade her mother farewell, and went out into the street. 25 ES J Close to the house she met the postman, carefully carrying his scanty bundle of letters and newspapers. 66 Any letter for me?" she asked, thinking, "It is for the last time." "Not to-day," replied the postman, doffing his hat politely; and with quick steps she passed him, making her way into the open country. It was cold on the chaussée, but Anna was young and strong; she only wrapped her shawl more closely round her, and walked as fast as she could towards the wood, which had been the scene of Peter's vows of constancy. Here she paused at last, too hurried to notice the changing lights on the stems of the trees, and the fresh green of the young grass, that was coyly peeping through the dead leaves. Some fifty yards off, a neighbor's little son was collecting sticks and brushwood for firing. She took no heed of the child beyond a nod and a short good-morning. She had made up her mind; the struggle was over, and her mother should enjoy a comfortable, happy old age. She had not come here to indulge in vain regrets; she had now to turn her back on the past and start fresh. Feeling under the folds of her shawl, she untied a faded ribbon that she wore round her neck; the battered silver groschen was still fastened to it - she could not send it back to Peter. For a moment Anna hesitated; for a moment, as she looked at her keepsake (so lovingly cherished), a mist of tears rose to her eyes. Then, as if ashamed of her weakness, she raised her arm and flung the ribbon and the treasure far, far away among the dead leaves, where it would be lost to sight forevermore. She did not wait any longer, but turned her face in the direction of home, her heart full of weary longing to finish the work that she had begun, and receive her suitor with due civility and respect. The wind swept wildly down the valley; behind her she heard the rustling of leaves and the creaking of branches. Once she stopped, thinking that some one called her by name; it must have been fancy. She was not wont to be fanciful, so she went on with her journey, walking with such good-will that, when she put her hand on the latch, the clock had not yet struck twelve. The neighbor's little son, running home to his dinner some ten minutes later, held something tightly clenched in his hand, from which a ribbon dangled. Just outside the village he met Ludwig and Wilhelm, laughing and talking together. "Have you seen Anna Gotthelf?" he gasped. "Not I, my boy," answered Wilhelm, while Ludwig asked slowly, his eyes resting on the draggled ribbon, She has gone home. What do you want?" The boy half opened his hand to show the contents. "She has left this in the wood; I believe it is money, and I saw it shine. I called after her, but she would not hear me." "The maiden carries herself so high that a groschen more or less is nothing to her, it would seem," said Wilhelm. "Give it to me, you young rascal." "Let it be," interrupted Ludwig, "he will leave it with me- - nicht wahr?. and I will return it to Anna immediately." Wilhelm laughed and shrugged his shoulders, declaring that his kinsman was crazed about the foolish maiden. The boy went off contented, and Lud. wig, with a low chuckle, pocketed the groschen; he had not forgotten the little scene between the lovers, of which he had been a witness the night before Peter's departure. The betrothal of Anna Gotthelf and Ernst Fintelmann was celebrated with suitable festivities, and the wedding was fixed to take place on Whit Monday. Frau Gotthelf was as busy as busy could be, sewing and spinning, and laying deep schemes for baking more cakes than had ever been seen in the village before. Herr Fintelmann visited his bride twice a week, he looked after his workpeople with unflagging zeal, and drove constantly to Rosenheim, where he would spend hours chatting with the lawyer, or ransacking the shops for the best goods at the lowest possible prices. Sometimes he would invite Frau Gotthelf to accompany him, and it would have been hard to say which was the happier, he in his fussy patronage, or she in her exalted position, driving along the chaussée by the side of so worthy and wealthy a son-in-law. On one of these occasions, as the chaise rattled down the street, Ludwig Dorn knocked at the Gotthelfs' door, entering almost before Anna (busy with her work) had time to say "Come in." When she did look round he was standing close beside her; he had dressed himself in his best clothes, and his manner was defiant and full of assurance. "I wish to speak with you," he said, in answer to Anna's look of inquiry; then glancing round on the rolls of linen and various bits of finery on the table, he |