ly 5,6_.

Alle's over now.... They've done theire worst, and yet I live. Dr.
Clement sayth he went up as blythe as a bridegroom, to be clothed upon
with immortality.

_July 19_.

They have let us bury his poor mangled trunk; but as sure as there's a
sun in heaven, I'll have his head!--before another sun has risen, too.
If wise men won't speed me, I'll e'en content me with a fool.

_July 20_.

Quoth Patteson: "Fool and fayr lady will cheat 'em yet."

At the stairs lay a wherry with a couple of boatmen. We went down the
river quietlie enow--nor lookt I up till aneath the bridge gate, when,
casting up one fearsome look, I beheld the dark outline of the ghastly
yet precious relic; and falling into a tremour, did wring my hands and
exclaim, "Alas, alas! That head hath lain full manie a time in my lap,
woulde God it lay there now!" When o' suddain, I saw the pole tremble
and sway towardes me; and stretching forth my apron I did, in an extasy
of gladness, pity, and horror, catch its burthen as it fell.

Patteson, shuddering, yet grinning, cries under his breath, "Managed I
not well, mistress? Let's speed away with our theft, but I think not
they'll follow hard after us, for there are well-wishers on the bridge.
I'll put ye into the boat and then say, 'God sped ye, lady, with your
burthen.'"

_July 23_.

I've heard Bonvisi tell of a poor Italian girl who buried her murdered
lover's heart in a pot of basil, which she watered day and night with
her tears, just as I do my coffer. Will hath promised it shall be buried
with me; layd upon my heart, and since then I've been easier.

He thinks he shall write father's life, when we are settled in a new
home. We are to be cleared out o' this in alle haste; for the king
grutches at our lingering over father's footsteps, and yet when the news
of the bloody deed was taken to him, he scowled at Queen Anne, saying,
"Thou art the cause of this man's death!"

Flow on, bright shining Thames. A good, brave man hath walked aforetime
on your margent, himself as bright, and usefull, and delightsome as you,
sweet river. There's a river whose streams make glad the city of our
God. He now rests beside it. Good Christian folks, as they hereafter
pass this spot, will, maybe, point this way and say, "There dwelt Sir