nch poet, 1573, addressed a fair lady whose
cunning fingers plied the needle in words thus translated:--

"I saw thee weave a web with care,
Where at thy touch fresh roses grew,
And marvelled they were formed so fair,
And that thy heart such nature knew.
Alas! how idle my surprise,
Since naught so plain can be:
Thy cheek their richest hue supplies,
And in thy breath their perfume lies;
Their grace and beauty all are drawn from thee."

If needle-work had its poetry, it had also its reckonings. Old
account-books bear many entries of heavy payments for working materials
used by industrious queens and indefatigable ladies of rank. Good
authorities state that, before the sixth century, all silk materials
were brought to Europe by the Seres, ancestors of the ancient
Bokharians, whence it derived its name of Serica. In 551, silk-worms
were introduced by two monks into Constantinople, but the Greeks
monopolized the manufacture until 1130, when Roger, king of Sicily,
returning from a crusade, collected some Greek manufacturers, and
established them at Palermo, whence the trade was disseminated over
Italy.

In the thirteenth century, Bruges was the great mart for silk. The
stuffs then known were velvet, satin (called samite), and taffeta,--all
of which were stitched with gold or silver thread. The expense of
working materials was therefore very great, and royal ladies
condescended to superintend sewing-schools.

Editha, consort of Edward the Confessor, was a highly accomplished lady,
who sometimes intercepted the master of Westminster School and his
scholars in their walks, questioning them in Latin. She was also skilled
in all feminine works, embroidering the robes of her royal husband with
her own hands.

Of all the fair ones, however, who have wrought for the service of a
king, since the manufacture of Excalibur, let the name of Matilda of
Flanders, wife of William the Conqueror, stand at the head of the
record, in spite of historians' doubts. Matilda, born about the year
1031, was carefully educated. She had beauty, learning, industry; and
the Bayeux tapestry connected with her name still exists, a monument of
her achievements in the art of needle-work. It is, as everybody knows, a
pictured chronicle of the conquest of England,--a wife's tribute to the
glory of her husband.

As a specimen of ancient stitchery and feminine industry, this work is
extremely curious. The tapestry is