William Carlis, who, Blount says, "had seen the last man killed at Worcester, and who had made his way to Boscobel for concealment, as he resided in the neighbourhood, and was an old acquaintance of William Penderel." Richard told him who was waiting in the wood for shelter and safety, and he and the two brothers went out and found the king sitting on the root of a tree, and conducted him into the house, where, says Blount, in his simple narrative, "He did eat bread and cheese heartily, and William Penderel's wife made his majesty a posset of thin milk and small beer, and got ready some warm water to wash his feet, not only extremely dirty but much galled with travel. The colonel pulled off his majesty's shoes, which were full of gravel, and stockings which were wet, and there being no other shoes in the house that would fit his majesty, the goodwife put some hot embers in those to dry them, whilst his majesty's feet were washing and his stockings shifted." 2. And now comes the most touching scene in this bitter experience, and I wonder no painter has made it a subject for his canvas. After the long night walk from Madeley with soaked shoes full of gravel, the Boscobel house was deemed unsafe even for an hour's sleep in a garret bed. So, after his bread and cheese, the king was conducted back into the wood, where William and Richard helped the two wearied and hunted fugitives up into a 66 thick-leaved oak," and raised up to them some more bread and cheese. They also brought a cushion for the king to sit on. "And the colonel humbly desired his majesty (who had taken little or no rest the two preceding nights) to seat himself as easily as he could in the tree, and rest his head in the colonel's lap, who was watchful that his majesty should not fall, and in this posture his majesty slumbered away some part of the day, and bore all these hardships and afflictions with incomparable patience." 3. When the night came on with "the blanket of the dark," the fugitives returned to the house, and William Penderel put the king to rest in that large square chest, at the lid of which we now stood. It is a kind of false apartment several feet square, with an eye seemingly closed to the lower lid, but admitting a little light, and just a glimpse of the outside world to the inmate. It is a kind of hollow notch over a buttery, or some culinary apartment, with only an entrance on the top through one of the floor boards, which makes such close joint with the rest, that no one would suspect it was not nailed as fast to the joist as they. It was built for the express purpose of hiding the hunted. The king found this place of real concealment both easier and safer than the oak, and he began to breathe freer from alarm. Says the same historian, “His majesty, esteeming himself in some better security, permitted William Penderel to shave him, and cut the hair of his head as short at the top as the scissors would do it, but leaving some about the ears according to the mode of the country. The king bade William burn the hair which he cut off, but William was only disobedient in that, for he kept a good part of it, wherewith he has since pleasured some persons of honour, and which is kept as a civil relique." 4. The king's sense of rest and safety was of short duration. On the very day that he was thus taken into the Boscobel House, Humphrey, one of the sturdy brothers, went to Shiffnal, only four or five miles distant, and there met "a colonel of the rebels" who had just come from Worcester in pursuit of the king, and had heard that he had been at the White Ladies. As Humphrey lived in the immediate neighbourhood of that place, the colonel examined him very closely, threatening the penalty denounced against any one who should harbour or conceal the king, and offering a reward of a thousand pounds for discovering him. But the stout-hearted yeoman stood fast to his loyalty, which braved threats, and spurned a thousand pounds in his poverty as easily as a thousand farthings. So the colonel could make nothing of him, but he might make all he wished of some one else with such threats and bribes. 5. When Humphrey told the king of his adventure at Shiffnal, he began to feel himself in an unsafe position, even with such faithful men around him. That night, however, he enjoyed the luxury of sleeping on a pallet laid upon the floor of the secret apartment; and the old mother of the family, whom he called My dame Joan, had served up some chickens for his supper, a dainty he had not lately been acquainted with." The next day was Sunday, and he ventured out into the little arbour now standing, as it did then, on a mound in the garden. Here he sat and read, while the Penderel brothers were holding watch and ward at all the approaches to the house. In the meantime John had been sent to Moseley, about five miles from Boscobel, to apprise Lord Wilmot of the king's whereabouts and condition. Lord Wilmot had changed his quarters from Moseley to Bentley, near Walsall, where he was the guest of Colonel Lane. It had already been arranged he should go as servant or companion to Jane Lane to Bristol, as she had obtained a pass from "the rebels" to make a journey to that seaport. Mr. Whitgreaves, the host at Moseley, went on with John to Bentley, and there it was planned that the king should be brought to that house of refuge, and take Lord Wilmot's place on the saddle with Jane Lane. 6. On the same Sunday night, therefore, the king, being too footsore to walk, was mounted upon Humphrey's old mill-horse, taken from the pasture, "with a pittiful old saddle and a worse bridle.' The stout-hearted, honest Penderels-William, John, Richard, Humphrey, and George and their brother-in-law, Francis Yates, made his body-guard, each with a woodbill or pikestaff on his shoulder, and some of them with pistols in their pockets. Two marched before, one on each side of the horse, and two at a little distance behind, determined to do or die in the king's defence should he be waylaid or attacked. It was near midnight when they set out on this hazardous march, and it was very dark and rainy. The old mill-horse was a lank, hard-boned, rough-going beast, and the king complained that "it was the heaviest dull jade he ever rode on." Humphrey, the owner, who was walking by his side, defended his faithful beast, it is said, in a smart rejoinder: "My liege! can you blame the horse to go heavily when he has the weight of three kingdoms on his back?" 7. At Penford Mill, about two miles from Moseley, on the advice of his guides, the king dismounted, and they proceeded by a private and safer path, and reached the appointed meeting-place in a little grove near the house. Here the Penderels left their royal charge in the hands of Lord Wilmot and the others waiting to receive him. William, the special hero of the band of brothers, with Humphrey and George, had fallen back and were returning to Boscobel with the horse, unknown to the king, and without waiting to be thanked by him for a devotion and loyalty seldom equalled by any other example in English history. The other brothers, on coming up to the company awaiting him in the grove, and while he was kissing Lord Wilmot on the cheek, were also retiring without apparently expecting or wishing a word of thanks from the sovereign they had served so faithfully, but before they had got beyond hearing, the king called them back and said: "My troubles make me forget myself; I thank you all." And he gave them his hand to kiss. Elihu Burritt (1810-1879). THE FIRST OF APRIL. 1. Now the golden morn aloft Waves her dew-bespangled wing; 2. New-born flocks, in rustic dance, Forgetful of their wintry trance, 8. Rise, my soul! on wings of fire, Rise, the rapturous choir among; 4. Yesterday, the sullen year Saw the snowy whirlwind fly; 5. Smiles on past misfortunes' brow, While hope prolongs our happier hour; 6. Still where rosy pleasure leads, Behind the steps where misery treads, The hues of bliss more brightly glow, |