f he would go. When Collington
came in, the king accosted him with, "Here's Steeny and Baby Charley
that want to go to Spain and fetch the Infanta. What think you of it?"
Collington did not think well of it at all. There followed a new
relapse on the part of the king from his consent, a new storm of anger
from Buckingham, more sullen obstinacy on the part of Charles, with
profane criminations and recriminations one against another. The whole
scene was what, if it had occurred any where else than in a palace,
would have been called a brawl.

It ended, as brawls usually do, in the triumph of the most
unreasonable and violent. James threw himself upon a bed which was in
the room, weeping bitterly, and saying that they would go, and he
should lose his Baby Charley. Considering that Charles was now the
monarch's only child remaining at home, and that, as heir to the
crown, his life was of great consequence to the realm, it is not
surprising that his father was distressed at the idea of his exposing
himself to danger on such an expedition; but one not accustomed to
what is behind the scenes in royal life would expect a little more
dignity and propriety in the mode of expressing paternal solicitude
from a king.

Charles and Buckingham set off secretly from London; their two
attendants were to join them in different places--the last at Dover,
where they were to embark. They laid aside all marks of distinction in
dress, such as persons of high rank used to wear in those days, and
took the garb of the common people. They put on wigs, also, the hair
of which was long, so as to shade the face and alter the expression of
their countenances. These external disguises, however, were all that
they could command. They could not assume the modest and quiet air
and manner of persons in the ordinary walks of life, but made such
displays, and were so liberal in the use of their money, and carried
such an air and manner in all that they did and said, that all who had
any intercourse with them perceived that they were in disguise. They
were supposed to be wild blades, out on some frolic or other, but
still they were allowed to pass along without any molestation.

They were, however, stopped at Dover, where in some way they attracted
the attention of the mayor of the town. Dover is on the Channel,
opposite to Calais, at the narrowest point. It was, of course,
especially in those days, the point where the principal intercourse
between the tw