ember that when King James II. ascended the
throne he did so amid a sullen silence on the part of a large class of
his subjects, and that both my father and my mother were among those who
were zealous for a Protestant succession.

My childhood was, as I have already said, a gloomy one. Now and again
when there chanced to be a fair at Portsdown Hill, or when a passing
raree showman set up his booth in the village, my dear mother would
slip a penny or two from her housekeeping money into my hand, and with
a warning finger upon her lip would send me off to see the sights. These
treats were, however, rare events, and made such a mark upon my mind,
that when I was sixteen years of age I could have checked off upon my
fingers all that I had ever seen. There was William Harker the strong
man, who lifted Farmer Alcott's roan mare; and there was Tubby Lawson
the dwarf, who could fit himself into a pickle jar--these two I well
remember from the wonder wherewith they struck my youthful soul. Then
there was the show of the playing dolls, and that of the enchanted
island and Mynheer Munster from the Lowlands, who could turn himself
round upon a tight-rope while playing most sweetly upon a virginal.
Last, but far the best in my estimation, was the grand play at the
Portsdown Fair, entitled 'The true and ancient story of Maudlin, the
merchant's daughter of Bristol, and of her lover Antonio. How they were
cast away on the shores of Barbary, where the mermaids are seen floating
upon the sea and singing in the rocks, foretelling their danger.' This
little piece gave me keener pleasure than ever in after years I received
from the grandest comedies of Mr. Congreve and of Mr. Dryden, though
acted by Kynaston, Betterton, and the whole strength of the King's own
company. At Chichester once I remember that I paid a penny to see the
left shoe of the youngest sister of Potiphar's wife, but as it looked
much like any other old shoe, and was just about the size to have fitted
the show-woman, I have often feared that my penny fell into the hands of
rogues.

There were other shows, however, which I might see for nothing, and yet
were more real and every whit as interesting as any for which I
paid. Now and again upon a holiday I was permitted to walk down to
Portsmouth--once I was even taken in front of my father upon his pad
nag, and there I wandered with him through the streets with wondering
eyes, marvelling over the strange sights around me. The