children were to be signed with the signe of the Crosse (like a divell dispossessed) to teare himself for fury, and with great noyse and foaming to runne out of the Temple. This spirit would faine have persuaded Robin to turne Roundhead, and told him that they were the best sort of Christians: I, replyed Robin, that is even as true as God is in Glocestershire. As he was proceeding in his discourse, he was intercepted by a great noyse and tumult of people, who cried out flye, flye, flye. Amazed at the suddennesse of the cry, and the multitudes of the people that came thronging by; he looked about him to understand what the businesse was, he found it a company of people, whom flying from Cirencester, the ignorant fury of the sword had spared. Prince Rupert had newly entred the towne, and having thrice summoned it, and they refusing to yeeld it into his hands, he seized on it by violence, and on his first entrance he burned a great part of the towne, the shot from the windowes by the muskets of the towne did wonderfully among his men, and he found no better meanes to prevent that mischiefe but by setting fire on the houses, there was a great overthrow, and Colonell Carre, and Colonell Massey, two chiefe commanders for the Parliament, were either slaine, or desperately wounded. Robin found this Prince to be a gentleman of himselfe of a civil and serious disposition, a man few in words, and very little beholding to fame for the many strange reports he had delivered of him; affrighted at the thunder of his armes, Robin dispatched himselfe from him with as much speed as the bullets flew from the mouth of his angry canons, and on the first summons of the cocke he came to Newarke, where either through feare of some new designe upon them, or through some great cold they had taken, he found every man of the earl of Newcastles garrison souldiers to be sicke of a palsey: loath to continue amongst those crasie people, with an invitive dispatch hee came to Pontefract, where he found the earle of Newcastle, with the greatest part of his

armie gone towards Yorke, not so much through feare as it was suggested, but for complement rather, and to entertaine the Queene of England, who was expected to be either at Newcastle or at Yorke. He found the army of the recusants, though in many combats shaken and scattered, yet not to receive so great an overthrow as many tongues too credulously have voiced it.

Neither did he find in York masse to be said in every Church, it being crosse to the method of the close and subtill generation of the Papists to make a publick profession of their religion before they had fully perfected their intentions and by the strength of authority made both the ends of their designes to meet together. Howsoever it being discovered that the warre which was pretended for the maintaining of the King's prerogative, tended now indeed to the innovation of Religion, and to make the Papists appeare the King's best subjects, it hath turned many hearts and armed many hands against them. The newes of the Queens landing made Robbin so brisk, and so overcharged him with newes, that being as unable to contain it, as he was greedy to receive it, he could not take a full survay of Yorke, nor had the leisure to go unto Newcastle to discover what good service those foure ships have done to hinder any malignant vessells that come either from Holland or from Denmark, from landing at Newcastle; a mad vagary tooke him to come up to London, which the vagabond elfe performed with such a suddennesse that could he be discovered in his way, he would have proved rather the object of the memory then of the eye. The first place hee came into, it was a conventicle of the family of love, it was then much about two of the clock in the morning, and the candles being put out, they were going from one exercise unto another. Robbin presented himself before them all, and seemed lusty as the spirit of youth when it is newly awakened from the mornings sleep the women were well contented to stay, but

the men cryed out a Satyre, a Satyre, a Satyre, and thrusting them before them all tumbling headlong, down the staires together, they left him laughing to himself alone.

XXVIII. THE FAIRIES FAREWELL.

From "Certain Elegant Poems, written by Dr. Corbet, Bishop of Norwich," 12mo. Lond. 1647, p. 47-9, entitled, “A proper new ballad, intituled the Fairies Farewel, or God a mercy, Will! to be sung or whistled to the tune of the Medow Brow by the learned, by the unlearned to the tune of Fortune."

Farewell rewards and fairies!

Good housewives now may say;

For now foul sluts in dairies

Do fare as well as they.

And though they sweep their hearths no less

Than maids were wont to do,

Yet who of late for cleanliness

Finds six-pence in her shoe?

Lament, lament, old abbies,

The fairies lost command;
They did but change priests babies,

But some have chang'd your land:
And all your children stol'n from thence
Are now grown puritanes,
Who live as changelings ever since,

For love of your demaines.

At morning and at evening both
You merry were and glad,
So little care of sleep and sloth
These pretty ladies had ;

When Tom came home from labour,
Or Ciss to milking rose,

Then merrily went their tabour,
And nimbly went their toes.

Witness those rings and roundelays
Of theirs, which yet remain,
Were footed in queen Mary's days
On many a grassy plain;
But since of late Elizabeth,
And later James came in,
They never danc'd on any heath,
As when the time hath bin.

By which we note the fairies
Were of the old profession ;
Their songs were Ave Maries,

Their dances were procession.
But now, alas! they all are dead,
Or gone beyond the seas,
Or farther from religion fled,
Or else they take their ease.

A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure,
And whoso kept not secretly

Their mirth was punish'd sure:
It was a just and christian deed
To pinch such black and blue :
O, how the commonwealth doth need
Such justices as you!

Now they have left our quarters
A register they have,

Who can preserve their charters,
A man both wise and grave;
A hundred of their merry pranks
By one that I could name

Are kept in store; con twenty thanks
To William for the same.

To William Churne of Staffordshire
Give laud and praises due,
Who every meal can mend your chear
With tales both old and true:

To William all give audience,
And pray you for his noddle,

For all the fairies evidence
Were lost, if it were addle.

XXIX. BOVET ON FAIRIES.

The following narratives are taken from a curious little volume by Richard Bovet, entitled, "Pandæmonium, or the Devil's Cloyster, being a further blow to modern Sadduceism, proving the existence of witches and spirits," 12mo. London, 1684.

A remarkable passage of one named the Fairy-boy of Leith in Scotland, given me by my worthy friend Captain George Burton, and attested under his own hand.

About fifteen years since, having business that detained me for some time at Leith, which is near Edenborough in the kingdom of Scotland, I often met some of my acquaintance at