earthly bondage, in which her youth and loveliness withered like a sickly plant deprived of light and air.

One of the Harleian MSS. contains a most affecting paper entitled The Manner of her Departing,' which no eye can linger over without being dimmed by tears. But there was yet another sister-from what can be gathered, not over wise, or witty, or even blessed with comeliness -appointed, in the spirit of concentrated cruelty, by the Queen, as one of her Maids of Honour; described by Cecil as the most diminutive lady at Court, and by Sandford as slightly deformed. It has been argued, that with the example of the fate of her two sisters before her, this little creature should never have thought of matrimony! Those who so said, knew little of the deep-seated yearning in every woman's heart for affection; yet, in bestowing her affections upon the giant-like Serjeant-Porter-Mr. Thomas Keys-she doubtless considered he was far too humble to be suspected of any treason,' and fancied that with her lowly choice she might have been permitted to pass into the disgrace and obscurity, which would have been elysian compared to her position about

the Royal person. But no. All the ruffs at court stood upright at the

outrage perpetrated against propriety by the Lady Mary Grey. Sir William Cecil noted it in a letter to Sir Thomas Smith, saying 'The Serjeant-Porter, being the biggest gentillman in all this Court, hath marryed secretly the Lady Mary Grey, the lest (i. e., smallest) in all the Court. They are committed to several prisons; ' and again, the offence is very great.'

It was evident that her royal mistress lay in wait for an opportunity to destroy the last of these ill-starred sisters. The insignificance of the 'great giant Porter,' the witlessness and simplicity of his lady-wife, their incapacity to injure or even offend, might have protected them against any tyrant in the world—even in those days-except Elizabeth Tudor; but the indignation of the sycophant court rose in arms against the sister of Lady Jane Grey! And in the State-Paper Office are some documents, a portion in the handwriting of Sir William Cecil, entitled Articles for the Examination of the Lady Mary Grey.'

The marriage was performed, it appears, by a somewhat unsightly priest, old, fat, and of low stature,'-in the Serjeant-Porter's

Chamber, by the Water Gate, at Westminster;' and the questions asked at that examination were no less frivolous than impertinent; the little gifts she confesses to the 'love-tokens '-are touching from their simplicity. The giant-lover' had given her first two little' rings; next 'a ring with four rubies and a diamond;' 'a chain,' and 'a little hanging bottle of mother-of-pearl.' The honeymoon was certainly passed in separate prisons; two days after the marriage it was known to the Queen; the husband was committed to the Fleet; and a letter was despatched to the keeper, stating that her Majesty had taken his offence much to heart.' The words in italics are underlined in the original.

The poor lady's immediate fate is more obscure; but at last it was determined by the PRIVY COUNCIL that she should be sent to the country, and given in charge to a certain Mr. Hawtrey, of Chequers,' in Buckinghamshire; there to remain without conference with any, suffering only one waiting-woman to attend upon her, without liberty of going abrode, for whose charges the Queen's Majesty will see him the said Mr. Hawtrey, in reason, satisfied;' subsequently, however, the Lady Mary was allowed a groom as well as a gentlewoman, and the clause concerning her going abrode' was in a degree modified; she was treated with a little more humanity than she had been; but she was a prisoner still.

Any one not sleeping under the nightmare of Elizabeth, and whose dreams were not disturbed by memories of the absent, must have enjoyed Chequers Court, even as a prison! It is a place to linger in and love, a delicious vision of beauty and romance, one of the 'places'-see one ever so many -that can never be forgotten.

Whether the poor prisoner was permitted to wander over 'velvet lawn,' or visit the silver spring,' or enjoy the refreshment of the happy valley,' we cannot now ascertain; the persecutor and the persecuted have long since gone to their account;' and the dark waters of oblivion have passed over the sufferings of the young bride. Perhaps she never lost herself or her sorrows in the labyrinth of "the Hill "-she could not even see it from the window of her attic. We must not look upon the abundant beauties of the beautiful seat of the Russells, and conjure up the fairy-like form of the Lady Mary Grey as adding to their interest.

It seems that Lady Mary was removed from Chequers Court after an imprisonment of two years, and delivered to the care of her maternal stepmother, the Dowager Duchess of Suffolk, who lived-in the Minories! but the Minories then and now were very different. Still the change must have been great from Chequers to a neighbourhood so unhealthy. Her stepmother had small 'plenishing' to store her rooms, and even entreats the Queen to lead her 'some old silver pots to fetch her drink in.' 'A basin and an ewer,' she adds in a housewifely letter extant, I fear were too much; but what it shall please her Majesty to appoint for her (i.e., the Lady Mary), shall be always redy to be delyvered againe whensoever it shal please her Majestie to call for it.'

Sir Thomas writes and that she desires

The Queen seems to have had pleasure in moving her victim from place to place; for we next find her under the roof of Sir Thomas Gresham, who sorely felt the heavy weight of the charge, frequently, during a period of three years, praying she should be removed from him. Toward the latter end of this time poor Keys died, most likely in prison. 'that she (Lady Mary) hath grievously taken his death, the Queen's leave to keep and bring up his children.' The entire kindness and lovingness of her nature is greatly shown in this simple and beautiful request; moreover, during his lifetime, though she had always signed herselfMary Grey,' doubtless to pleasure Elizabeth, after his death her womanly sense of right conquered every other feeling, and in her heart's first grief she signed herself Mary Keys.'

It was of his children she spoke of her own she had none: dearly had she paid by a long life of suffering for an act which the Sovereign could not have overlooked.

In process of time her liberty was restored, and it may be she was restored also to what the world would call favour;' for on the first of January, 1577-8, she presented the Queen at Hampton Court with two pair of swete gloves, with four dozen buttons of golde, in every one a side perle,' and received in return a cup with a cover weighing eighteen ounces. Soon after this she died-on the 20th of April, 1578-in the parish of St. Botolph Without, Aldersgate.

Truly the memory of this simple-minded and most unfortunate lady, was more with us at Chequers Court than was perhaps consistent with more

striking and important associations. The sombre air of several of the rooms, the stillness and loneliness of the scene, the deep shadows that came and went, seemed to belong especially to this youngest of three most unfortunate sisters. And yet, but for the persecution and persevering cruelty of Queen Elizabeth, we should not have given a sigh to the memory of that sister of Lady Jane Grey,' who could so far forget herself as to marry the Serjeant-Porter of the Palace which some might have held to be her birthright.

THE STUDIO OF GAINSBOROUGH.

HERE are many benevolent persons, venerable old ladies more particularly, who, sitting with half-closed blinds at windows of suburban villas, consider it a duty to pray that every Sunday may be sunny. They are too feeble to walk to church, but they love to see well-dressed congregations hastening thither, to the sweet inviting music of the church bells, and they especially delight in observing town-soiled artisans-pallid men, their industrious wives and delicate-looking children-trooping along the dusty roads, stopping at garden-gates to look over and inhale the perfume of early-sweetbriar and purple violets, while their children pillage the hedges of budding hawthorn or dawning primroses, not scorning even long tufts of willowy grass, which they twist in uncouth sportiveness, lashing each other into unusual mirth. We wish the same generous and kindly folk would pray that the early days of April might be as sunny as the sunniest Sabbath that ever joyed the world; for the painter-prisoners are at large on those days of all days in the year. The last-last touch has been given to their works-the pictures are gone to the Academy to await their doom: whatever may be the result, the toiling man of genius, or of patience, hopes he has done his best the darling one-the produce of thought and care, of labouring days and wakeful nights-has left his roof, be it lofty or humble, accompanied by some heart-beatings and regrets; not that he wishes to see it back again, but he thinks he might have treated it better while it remained. Still it is