Waffle informs us,
after his mistress's death refused to bury bones anywhere else but on
her grave. Ah me! Would that some of our human friends were as
unflagging in their affections as the faithful Roger!

Her reign as morganatic queen was remarkable for several scientific
inventions of great utility[5]--notably the "pushfast," a machine
designed exclusively for the fixing of leather buttons in church
hassocks; also Dr. Snaggletooth's cunning device for separating the
rind from Camembert cheese without messing the hands! There were in
addition to the examples here quoted many minor inventions which, though
perhaps not of any individually intrinsic value, went far to illustrate
Madcap Moll's influence on the progress of the civilisation of her time.

In Raymond Waffle's rather long-winded record of her life he dwells for
several chapters upon the Papist plots which menaced her position at
Court. After a visit to several of London's museums, I have discovered
that most of the facts he quotes are naught but fallacies. There were
undoubtedly plots, but nothing in the least Papist. She had her
enemies--who has not? But, as far as religion was concerned, Papists,
Protestants, Wesleyans, and occasionally Mahommedans, all joined
together in unstinting praise of her character and judgment.

Any faults or acts of thoughtlessness committed during her brilliant
life were amply compensated for by the supreme deed of loyalty and
patriotism which, alas! marked the tragic close of her all too short
career. Her ride to Norwich--show me the man whose pulses do not thrill
at the mention of that heroic achievement! That wonderful, wonderful
ride--that amazing, glorious _tour de force_ which caused her name to be
revered and hallowed in every sleepy hamlet and hovel of Old
England--her ride to Norwich on Piebald Polly, her thoroughbred mare!
On, on through the night--a fitful moon scrambling aslant the
cloud-blown heavens, the wind whistling past her ears, and the tune of
"God Save the King" ringing in her brain, the rhythm set by the
convulsive movements of Piebald Polly. On, on, through towns and
villages, and then once more the open country--what is that noise? The
roaring of water! Torrents are unloosed--the dam has burst! Miller's
Leap. Can she do it?--can she?--can she? She can--and has. Dawn shows in
the eastern sky--the lights of Norwich--Norwich at last![6]

Poor Moll! the day that dawned as she sped along those weary roads was