n anticipated for him: Ten Years more of
Life;--which, we may compute, would have given another History to all
the Centuries of England. But it was not to be so, it was to be
otherwise. Oliver's health, as we might observe, was but uncertain in
late times; often "indisposed" the spring before last. His course of
life had not been favorable to health! "A burden too heavy for man!" as
he himself, with a sigh, would sometimes say. Incessant toil;
inconceivable labor, of head and heart and hand; toil, peril, and sorrow
manifold, continued for near Twenty years now, had done their part:
those robust life-energies, it afterwards appeared, had been gradually
eaten out. Like a Tower strong to the eye, but with its foundations
undermined; which has not long to stand; the fall of which, on any
shock, may be sudden.--

The Manzinis and Ducs de Crequi, with their splendors, and
congratulations about Dunkirk, interesting to the street-populations and
general public, had not yet withdrawn, when at Hampton Court there had
begun a private scene, of much deeper and quite opposite interest there.
The Lady Claypole, Oliver's favorite Daughter, a favorite of all the
world, had fallen sick we know not when; lay sick now,--to death, as it
proved. Her disease was of a nature, the painfullest and most harassing
to mind and sense, it is understood, that falls to the lot of a human
creature. Hampton Court we can fancy once more, in those July days, a
house of sorrow; pale Death knocking there, as at the door of the
meanest hut. "She had great sufferings, great exercises of spirit."
Yes:--and in the depths of the old Centuries, we see a pale anxious
Mother, anxious Husband, anxious weeping Sisters, a poor young Frances
weeping anew in her weeds. "For the last fourteen days" his Highness had
been by her bedside at Hampton Court, unable to attend to any public
business whatever. Be still, my Child; trust thou yet in God: in the
waves of the Dark River, there too is He a God of help!--On the 6th day
of August she lay dead; at rest forever. My young, my beautiful, my
brave! She is taken from me; I am left bereaved of her. The Lord giveth,
and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the Name of the Lord!--...

In the same dark days, occurred George Fox's third and last interview
with Oliver.--.... George dates nothing; and his facts everywhere lie
round him like the leather-parings of his old shop: but we judge it may
have been about the time when the Manzi