cing, and horsemanship he possessed extraordinary skill. Nevertheless, we always called him 'the Lady;' there was still another reason for our doing so." Milton signed vainly to his fellow-student, whom the joy of meeting his old friend, and a few glasses of wine, had excited a little. "Ah, you need not motion to me," continued the merry musician; "Lady Alice shall hear that story in spite of your objections. It sounded at the time so beautiful and wondrous, that I felt almost tempted to believe that you had dreamed, or had one of your usual poetical visions." "You really excite my curiosity," interposed Alice, who seemed to be delighted with the poet's confusion. "One day," related the loquacious musician, "friend Milton lay under a tree in the college garden, and fell asleep. An Italian lady, who was on a visit to Cambridge, is said to have seen the slumbering youth, and to have been so intensely delighted with his. appearance, that she dropped on him a rose which she held in her hands. Round the stem was tied a piece of paper, which contained a few beautiful lines in Italian on the sleeping Endymion." "Do you still remember those lines?" asked Alice, archly. the whole occurrence was only a poor joke of my fellow-students. I should have liked best to consider the whole event only a dream of my lively imagination, had I not, on awaking, found the rose with those lines carefully wrapped round the stem. Moreover, I really thought I had, on opening my eyes, seen a female form hurrying rapidly from the garden. Nay, I even remembered her name, for I thought I heard an older lady, accompanying her, calling out to her, 'Leonora !' I confess frankly that this strange affair engrossed my mind for some time afterward." "Maybe you will meet the lady at some fu"Did you ture time," said Allce, playfully. never entertain this desire?" "In former times I did, but it is a long while since I forgot the whole occurrence, until Lawes just now reminded me of it. I look upon the adventure now only as a rather bold jest on the part of the unknown lady, and who knows whether I ought to desire to meet the Signora again? The reality would probably undeceive me, as is usually the case under such circumstances. As it is, she lives at least in my imagination as a picture of the Muse who visited her votary in his dreams." "And you are afraid lest your Muse, on meeting you again, should be old and ugly? "I do. If I am not mistaken, they were of You may be right, so far as that is concerned," the following purport: 'Oh, fairest eyes, ye orbs of blissful light, If closed, ye such power wield, What could my heart, if ye were open, shield?'" "I think these lines are really charming," remarked the young lady, "though they seem to me more suitable to a woman than a man." "That is what the whole class thought, and henceforth we called Milton 'the Lady of the College' more than ever before." "And you heard nothing further from the unknown lady?" said Alice to the confused poet. "How should I?" he replied. "Perhaps added Alice, smilingly. In the mean time, the condescending host conversed with young King on the affairs of the king, and on what was going on at court. The noble earl spoke with a great deal of moderation on these topics. He made no secret of his apprehensions in regard to the quarrels between Charles I. and his Parliament. He expressed his hope and earnest desire, however, that these dissensions might be amicably settled. At the conclusion of the conversation, the Lord President of Wales took up the goblet standing before him. "God grant," he said, raising his voice, Thereupon be rose, thereby indicating that the repast was at an end. The earl's steward had prepared rooms in the side-wing of the castle for the reception of the friends. Preceded by a footman, and accompanied by the kind-hearted musician, they retired after bidding the earl's family good-night. แ 'peace and tranquillity to our country! But | it, and, like a color-grinder, produced new and let me once more heartily welcome you, my surprising combinations of these different dear guests, to Ludlow Castle, and repeat my tints, while the hanging drops fell from the invitation to you to stay at my house as long foliage to the ground like a rain of flashing as you like it." diamonds. Adjoining the luxuriant garden was the park, with its mighty trees, whose tops seemed entirely bathed in, the morning light; beyond it extended the landscape with its green meadows and fields, isolated groups of trees and sparse cottages, from which blue smoke was rising in straight lines. A gentle, sloping chain of hills, adorned here and there with an imposing structure, or the ruins of a castle, dating from the period of the Romans, bordered the horizon. There could be no more beautiful view than this fertile and withal picturesque landscape in the full splendor of the glorious May-time. The azure sky was clear and limpid; not a cloudlet dimmed its noble vault, and the first vigorous sunbeams shed so bright a lustre, that even the broad shades of the dewy fields resembled large golden stripes, embroidered with pearls and diamonds. At the same time, morning had CHAPTER VI. A MORNING AT LUDLOW CASTLE. A SPLENDID spring morning awakened the sleepers, who had enjoyed the most delightful repose after the fatigues of the previous day. Even the thunder-storm had been unable to disturb their sleep. It had burst forth at midnight, but passed away very soon, and the only traces it had left behind were the heavy rain-filled the wide world with new life. At a disdrops now hanging on every blade of green, tance, the cock of the barn-yard uttered its and sparkling magnificently in the golden sun- loud notes; the lark warbled up from the closhine. Milton was the first to awake, and had ver-field, or rang its sweet morning greetings stepped immediately to the open bay-window. down from the clouds; the industrious swalAt his feet lay the large garden, with the care- lows were building their nests chirpingly on a fully and ingeniously arranged flower-beds, decayed wall, and all the other sweet singers whose sweet perfumes were wafted up to him of the forest and the fields joined in the early by the morning breeze. A whole sea of flow- concert of creation. ers and blossoms spread out before his eyes; the warm shower of the thunder-storm had called forth countless buds, and transformed the cherry and apple trees into fragrant white snowballs. Amidst them glistened the reddish blossoms of the chestnuts and apricots, and the young foliage in all its variegated colors, from yellow and green to the deep black of the sombre cypresses, the whole resembling the palette of an industrious painter. The fresh morning breeze swept merrily over Amidst this beautiful and fertile landscape rose Ludlow Castle, a proud structure in the Norman-Gothic style. Situated on a precipitous rock, this imposing edifice, which dated from the times of William the Conqueror, commanded a splendid view of the adjoining country; according to the chronicler Leland, its walls had a circuit of nearly a mile. Fortified ramparts and drawbridges protected it from hostile attacks. By the enormous entrancegate one penetrated into the large inner court pale silver sickle of the moon, while the pinnacles were sparkling like golden crowns in the bright morning sun. From thence the rays glided down the projections and pillars, here illuminating a Gothic window, there lighting up a rose of stone or a jutting oriel. Other parts, however, were still veiled in the shade, until the lustre of the victorious sun gradually divested them of their gloomy physiognomy. In the depth below flashed the waters of the Teme, which surrounded the ramparts of the castle in picturesque meanderings and reflected its proud pinnacles. yard, which was surrounded by a number of side-buildings used for various purposes. Further back the visitor beheld the imposing front of the ancient castle, which the hands of giants seemed to have built of tremendous blocks of stone, and which had defied the corrosive power of centuries. Two enormous towers rose from it, menacingly and imperiously; they contained embrasures, and were crowned with slender pinnacles. Joined to the main building, in picturesque angles and projections, were the wings, which were of later origin than the old structure, to which they had been added from time to time. These additions imparted to the whole the charm of variety, combined with massiveness and extraordinary extent. The heavy Norman lines and forms of the original building were covered and interrupted by the handsome Gothic arches, pillars, and spires, without lessening the grandeur and dignity of the castle. Nature and art had thus combined in rendering it a truly royal residence, and the sovereigns of England had indeed owned it since the death of its first owner, Roger Montgomery, and had often personally resided there. It was not until the reign of Henry VIII. that Ludlow Castle had been assigned as the official residence of the Lord President of Wales. At the present time the Earl of Bridgewater, who filled that distinguished position, and his family, occupied this magnificent country-seat. A large number of officers, such as every nobleman of his rank and position kept about him at that period, occupied a part of the wings and outbuildings. Besides, there was a small garrison at the castle, to defend it, if need be, against foreign or domestic foes. Numerous guests, in those days of liberal hospitality, met with a welcome reception in the extensive suites | of apartments, of which there was no lack. Milton feasted his æsthetic eyes long and wonderingly on the imposing pile. A charming clare-obscure floated round the gray old walls. Above the western tower yet stood the Gradually various sounds issued from the interior of the castle, and indicated the reawakening of life. In the neighboring stables neighed horses, and pointers and setters barked in the court-yard; doors opened noisily, and many footsteps resounded on the pavement. At first busy servants passed hastily under Milton's window; next came the steward with his grave air, scolding the loiterers and brandishing threateningly his staff with the large silver top, whenever his words were not promptly listened to. Buxom servant-girls, their cheeks still flushed with sleep, stood at the well, chatting gayly and cleaning the earthen and copper vessels of the remnants of last night's supper, or filling the wooden buckets with water from the bubbling spring. Others stepped from the stables, preceded by the stately housekeeper, and carrying the new milk on their heads. Idle footmen and hunting-grooms jested with them, which excited the anger of the old housekeeper and caused her to tell them indignantly to go to work. The cook and his assistants returned from the store-room, loaded with venison and meat as if they had to prepare a wedding-banquet. At the head of this culinary procession was carried the wild boar which the Lord President had killed with his own hands a few days before, and whose gilded head was to be the chief ornament of to-day's dinner-table. In the midst of all these persons moved grave-looking clerks and the bailiff, rent-roll in hand, to receive the rent from a farmer or the taxes from an humble peasant who took off his hat in the presence of the stern gentleman. The bustle in the court-yard was constantly on the increase. The corpulent chaplain walked yawningly from his rooms to the ball of the castle to say grace at the breakfast-table. On passing the cook and his assistants, he cast a longing glance on the fat boar and the meats which were carried by. The agreeable prospect of a sumptuous dinner imparted a highly-benevolent expression to his face. With a pleasant smile he thanked the steward, who greeted the clergyman with profound respect. "A fine morning," he said, trying to open a conversation with the chaplain. "Splendid weather. The cornfields look twice as nice after the shower as they did yesterday. With God's assistance we shall have good crops this year." "Yes, yes, God's goodness and patience with sinful humanity are great," replied the clergyman, clasping his hands. “Well, well, the world is not so very bad." "What, not so bad?" said the chaplain, indignantly. "Have you not heard that the dissenters and contemners of our Church are daily on the increase? Not so bad, you say, Mr. Buller? And in our own vicinity there are swarms of sectarians, Brownists, Anabaptists, Familists, Antinomians, Socinians, Puritans, and whatever may be the names of the blasphemous scoundrels. And what is worse yet, they are performing their infamous rites quite unconcernedly." “You do not say so!" replied the worthy steward, shaking his head incredulously. inveigh against the Church of England, and preach rebellion against the anointed head of the king. But this is the consequence of the untimely patience and forbearance of our authorities. I would proceed against them with fire and sword, if I had the power of our gracious master, the Lord President." "He is a good master, God bless him!" replied the loyal steward, taking off his hat. "But his goodness is entirely out of place here. This is a time when nothing but severity will be of any avail to extirpate the growing evil of heresy. Some members of my congregation begin also to deviate from the true path. I must speak a word in dead earnest with the noble earl, that he may put a stop to the growing mischief, and that the faithful sheep may not be infected by the shabby ones. Henderson is one of the latter." "James Henderson from Huntington? I know him well; he is an industrious, prompt, and reliable man; only he is a little sullen and morose since his wife's death." "Say rather seditious and rebellious against God and his king. I know this industrious James Henderson better. Industrious he is, to be sure, but only in blasphemy, and prompt in disobedience. Did he not assert the other day, loudly and in the presence of a great many others, that no one ought to pay ship-money and the tax on soap? The rascal said these new taxes were illegal, inasmuch as they were collected without the approval of Parliament. Illegal, indeed! As if the king could do wrong; and even though he should, is a subject allowed to resist him? Does not the Bible command the people to be obedient to their rulers? Did not the Saviour Himself say, 'Render unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's ?? And that Cæsar was a heathen and not a confessor of the true faith, like King Charles, whom God bless and preserve for many years to come!" "What I say is as true as that it is now broad daylight. I have been credibly informed that they hold in all sorts of out-of-the-way hiding-places, in caves and forests, their clan destine meetings and conventicles, where they timidly objected the steward, who, like most "But what do we have a Parliament for?" Englishmen, was filled with profound reverence not resulted, as in Germany, from the intelli for the ancient constitution of his country. "According to Magna Charta, no additional taxes can be imposed upon the people without the approval of Parliament." gence of the people, and their conviction that a change was indispensable. The quarrel of Henry VIII. with the pope in regard to his divorce had brought about the rupture be tween England and the Roman Catholic Church. In direct opposition to the German Reformation, which was based on the principle of re "H'm," murmured the clergyman, in a milder tone. "Parliament is a good institution, and I will say nothing against it. God forbid that I should deny its privileges and prerogatives!ligious freedom, and strove for it alone, the But we do not speak of that just now, but of the accursed James Henderson, who speaks disrespectfully of our most gracious king, and who has not been at church, nor listened to my sermons, for upward of a year. It is on his account that I wish to speak a word in earnest with our earl. As Lord President and representative of his majesty, he must inflict well-merited punishment on this Henderson on account of his infamous sayings and doings. If he followed my advice, he would order Henderson to be whipped and confined in the deepest dungeon." "You forget that Henderson has a powerful protectress. His daughter is the foster-sister of our young lady." "I do not care for that. I shall do my duty regardless of her protection. It will not avail him before God." So saying, the zealous chaplain proceeded, as the breakfast-hour had struck in the mean time. The delicious odor of fresh-baked pies which issued from the hall allayed his holy wrath somewhat, and damped his eagerness to persecute the Brownists, Anabaptists, and other sects, which were so remorselessly persecuted and punished by the Church and government of England. The steward followed him hastily, in order to miss neither the blessing nor the breakfast. This conversation, to which Milton had listened, transferred the enthusiastic poet at once from the contemplation of blooming Nature to the dreary religious troubles and dissensions of his times. Protestantism in England had English Reformation had been forced, at least, upon a part of the people by the arbitrary decrees of a tyrannous king. Luther, the simple, inspired monk, ventured upon his struggle against all-powerful Rome with no other support than that of public opinion and the Bible. Henry VIII., on the contrary, profited by his royal authority and the power which was at his command. Personal considerations and worldly advantages were the motives of the latter, while the German Reformer commenced and finished his immortal work solely in the name of truth and the freedom of conscience. The King of England took the place of the pope in his country, but in most essential points he remained a zealous Catholic, and, with the exception of the pope's supremacy in secular affairs, and of the monastic system, he made few important changes in the old dogmas of his Church. Thus the two Reformations differed materially at the outset. They started from opposite points, and pursued ever after. ward a widely different course. The religious current which originated in Germany rose from below upward, from the people up to the nobility and princes, who promoted the Reformation partly from inward conviction, partly, like Henry VIII., for the sake of worldly advantages. The reverse was the case in England; the religious movement here extended from the summit to the base, from the throne down to the lower strata of the people. The latter soon took in hand the reformation of their faith, not as a secular, but as an exclu sively divine affair. Regardless of the motives |