rself, we cannot but let you know that we hear
out of France such singular good reports of your duty well
accomplished toward your husband, both living and dead, with
other your sober, wise and discreet behaviour in that court
and country, that we think it a part of great commendation
to us and commendation to our country, that such a
gentlewoman hath given so manifest a testimony of virtue in
such hard times of adversity. And therefore, though we
thought very well of you before, yet shall we hereafter make
a more assured account of your virtues and gifts; and
where-insoever we may conveniently do you pleasure, you may
be thereof assured. And so we would have you rest yourself
in quietness, with a firm opinion of our special favour
towards you. Given under our signet, at our city of Oxford,
the ---- of September, 1566, the eighth year of our reign.

Your loving friend,

ELIZABETH R.

It was "at our city of Oxford" that we chanced upon this letter. Reading
in the Bodleian Library, at the end of the great cross gallery lined
with rows of books, tier upon tier, we sat in the month of September,
1884, at a quiet table beside a huge stone-mullioned window. One of its
casements of leaded panes, guarded with brown rusty iron bars, was open.
In the acacia-tree outside a bird was singing. Beyond the delicate green
foliage, untouched by any thought of autumn, the towers and spires of
the glorious city rose above red and gray roofs. The silence about us
was only broken by the crisp turning of leaves or the stealthy foot-fall
of the attendants bringing fresh heaps of books to the half-dozen busy
workers. There was a fragrant smell of old books--of leather
bindings--so dear to the student's heart. The warm, sweet outer air and
hot sunshine streamed in at the open window. "The merry, merry Christ
Church bells--one, two, three, four, five, six," chimed the quarters;
and "Mighty Tom" tolled the hours as the morning stole by only too
quickly.

Two hundred and eighteen years ago in this very month of September,
Queen Elizabeth was at Oxford, on her way to or from Kenilworth Castle,
and she wrote the letter to Lady Hobby with those same Christ Church
bells chiming the quarters and the hours within hearing of her lodgings.

What times those were! The fortunes of England under Elizabeth were
recovering from long disgrace and decay. The foundation of the Royal
Exchange, b