od bit of a collector and _virtuoso_. Some of the rare
books and manuscripts he had around him at Nunappleton are now in the
Bodleian, the treasures of which he had protected in troubled times. He
loved to handle medals and coins, and knew the points of old
engravings. He wrote a history of the Christian Church down to our own
ill-conducted Reformation, and composed a complete metrical version of
the Psalms of David and of the Song of Solomon. These and many other
productions, which he characterised as "The Employment of my Solitude,"
still remain in his own handwriting. Amongst them, Yorkshire men will
hear with pleasure, is a "Treatise on the breeding of the Horse."

Of the quality of his wife we have already had a touch. She was one of
the four daughters of Lord Vere of Tilbury, who came of a fine fighting
family, and whose daughters had a roughish bringing-up, chiefly in the
Netherlands. None of the daughters were reckoned beautiful, either in
face or figure, and it may well be that Lady Fairfax had something about
her of the old campaigner; but of her courage, sincerity, and goodness
there can be no question. Her loyalty was no sickly fruit of "Church
Principles," for her strong intelligence rejected scornfully the slavish
doctrines, alien to our political constitution, of divine right and
passive obedience; but a loyalty, none the less, it was, of a very
valuable kind. She was fond of argument, and with Lady Fairfax at
Nunappleton there was never likely to be any dearth of sensible talk and
lively reminiscence. The tragedy of the 30th of January could never be
forgotten, and it is possible that Marvell's most famous verses, so
nobly descriptive of the demeanour of the king on that memorable
occasion, derived their inspiration from discourse at Nunappleton.

Of the Lady Mary, aged twelve, we have no direct testimony. When she
grew up and had her portrait painted she stands revealed as a stout
young woman with a plain good-natured face. The poor soul needed all
the good-nature heaven had bestowed upon her, for she had to bear the
misery and disgrace which were the inevitable marriage-portion of the
woman whose ill-luck it was to become the wife of George Villiers,
second Duke of Buckingham. Somebody seems to have taught her philosophy,
for she bore her misfortunes as best became a great lady, living as one
who had sorrow but no grievance. The duke died in 1688; she lived on
till 1704. She was ever a good friend to a