cians
bled him three times, thus effectually taking away his last chance of
recovery. And on September 13, 1660, this promising young prince died at
Whitehall, the very palace where, eleven years before, his sad, broken
father had been executed.

All the nation mourned the loss of the duke, for every one loved and
admired him.

With his namesake Prince Henry he completed not twenty
years, and what was said of the unkle, was as true of the
nephew.

In searching at the British Museum a little while ago for documents
concerning this prince, we came upon a mention under his name in the
catalogue of "Some Teares." Curious to see what they were, we were told
that the book which contained them was too valuable to be brought into
the great reading room, where hundreds of workers congregate in busy
silence every day. So we were taken through locked doors into an inner
sanctum; and there the precious document was intrusted to us. It was a
large sheet of stiff paper, with wide black borders, and on it a long
poem (of which I can only give a few lines) was printed, entitled,

SOME TEARES DROPT ON THE HERSE OF THE INCOMPARABLE PRINCE

HENRY DUKE OF GLOUCESTER.

Fatal _September_ to the Royal line
Has snatch'd one Heroe of our hopeful _Trine_
From Earth; 'tis strange heaven should not proedeclare
A loss so grievous by some _Blazing Star_,
Which might our senses overjoy'd, alarm,
And time give to prepare for so great harm.

* * * * *

He was Fair Fruit sprung from a Royal Bud,
And grown as great by fair Renown as Blood;
Ripe too too soon; for in a Youth so green
An Harvest was of gray-haired Wisdome seen.

_Minerva's_ Darling, Patron of the Gown,
Lover of Learning, and _Apollo's_ Crown
He was; the Muses he began to nourish,
Learn'd men and arts under his wings did flourish.
But lest we should commit Idolatry,
Heav'n took him from our sight, not Memory.

_London:_ Printed by _W. Godbid_ for _Henry Brome_ at the
_Gun_ in _Ivy Lane_, and _Henry Marsh_ at the _Princes Arms_
in _Chancery-lane_ near _Fleet-street_, M.D.C.L.X.

As we handled the stiff old sheet with its black borders, and saw
September 20, written in before the date in faded ink, we seemed to see
the handsome, gentle, studious prince, borne out of the palace where the
tragedy of his father's death was yet fresh in the minds of those who