yet received it. The Earl fell presently into a passion, marvelling thereat, being the more troubled lest His Majesty should think him careless in observing his commands; and told Mr. Herbert, at the King's coming to St. James's, as he was sitting under the great elm-tree near Sir Benjamin Rudyerd's lodge in the Park, seeing a considerable military officer of the army pass towards St. James's, he went to meet him, and demanding of him if he knew his cousin Tom Herbert, that waited on the King? the officer said he did, and was going to St. James's. The Earl then delivered to him the gold watch that had the alarum, desiring him to give it to Mr. Herbert to present it to the King. The officer promised he would immediately do it. My Lord (said Mr. Herbert), I have sundry times seen and pass'd by that officer since, and do assure your Lordship, he hath not delivered it, according to your order and his promise, nor said any thing to me concerning it, nor has the King it, I am certain.' The Earl was very angry, and gave the officer his due character, and threatened to question him. But such was the severity of the times, that it was then judged dangerous to reflect upon such a person, being a favourite of the time, so as no notice was taken of it. Nevertheless, Mr. Herbert (at the Earl's desire) acquainted His Majesty therewith, who gave the Earl his thanks, and said, 'Ah! had he not told the officer it was for me, it would probably have been delivered. He well knew how short a time I could enjoy it!'"*

* "Athenæ Oxoniensis," p. 522. A. Wood says, "Mr. Herbert did not tell him the name of the officer, only that he was

The conversation here alluded to took place on the evening of the day upon which the unfortunate monarch received his sentence to die.

Immediately after his release from the Gate House, where, as before mentioned, he was confined by order of Cromwell, Sir Benjamin Rudyerd retired to his seat of Westwoodhay in Berkshire, and spent the remainder of his days in that quiet to which his mind must have been a stranger while engaged in the political struggles of the times. No doubt his happiness was often clouded by the twofold reflection, of the monarch's death upon the scaffold, and the grinding tyranny of the usurper-a tyranny ever the more insupportable when proceeding from an illegitimate source-and doubly galling when produced, however unintentionally, through our own instrumentality.

Of the character of Sir Benjamin Rudyerd there appear not to be two opinions. Ben Jonson, a good and severe judge of human perfection, bears ample testimony to his worth in the following epigrams :

executed after the restoration of King Charles II.; therefore he presumes it was either Major Harrison or Colonel Hacker."

"Rudyerd, as lesser dames to great one's use,
My lighter comes to kiss thy learned muse;
Whose better studies, while she emulates,

She learns to know long difference of their states.
Yet is the office not to be despised,

If only love should make the actions prized;
Nor he for friendship can the thought unfit
That strives his manners should precede his wit."
Epigram cxxi.

In the next of which Mr. Gifford, in his edition of Ben Jonson, says, "There is a beautiful and touching simplicity which cannot be too highly prized." He thus writes to Sir Benjamin Rudyerd:

"If I would wish for truth and not for show,
The aged Saturn's age and rites to know;

If I would strive to bring back times, and try
The world's pure gold and wise simplicity;
If I could virtue set as she was young,

And hear her speak with one, and her first tongue;
If holiest friendship, naked to the touch,

I would restore and keep it ever such;

I need no other arts, but study thee,

Who prov'st all these were, and again may be."

Epigram cxxii.

And again, in Epigram cxxiii., "rare Ben Jonson" pays that compliment to his talent and judgment which must perpetuate his fame.

"Writing thyself, or judging others writ,

I know not which thou 'st most, candour or wit:
But both thou hast so as he who affects the state
Of the best writer and judge should emulate."

Mr. Grainger, in his "Biographical Dictionary," says, Sir Benjamin Rudyerd was one of the most accomplished gentlemen and scholars of the age, a noted parliamentary speaker, a wit, and poet; and certainly if but a portion of the following verses, written on seeing his portrait, were applicable to his character, he was in every relation of life a most estimable man.

"Could we as here his figure see his mind,
Words would be speechless where a soul we find
So high, so humble, knowledge without pride;
With knowledge, zeal, who makes virtue his guide,
Not the times; who chose rather to be good
Than rich or great; who so well understood
Yet practised not court arts; for his friends
Found that he loved 'em for themselves, not ends.
Just beyond reach of bribes, so constant still
As fortune wants that good, nature that ill
Which he can wish or feare, and so does live
That he does lack a foe e'en to forgive."

These verses, so highly flattering to the qualities of Sir Benjamin Rudyerd, have been attributed by some to Sir Henry Wotton, others consider they are from the pen of John Owen the celebrated epigrammatist.

At last, having lived to a great age, during the whole of which period he had maintained a spotless and unblemished reputation for honour and integrity, Sir Benjamin Rudyerd died at his. seat of Westwoodhay in Berkshire, on the 31st of May, A.D. 1658, aged eighty-six years, a few months only before the annihilation, by the hand of God, of the Usurper's power, having devoted the last remaining years of his life exclusively to acts of kindness and charity, and in the practice of that piety and virtue which had formed the consolation of his life.

No stronger example of the sincerity of his religious sentiments can be adduced than the following beautiful hymn which he composed in his declining years:

"O God! my God! what shall I give

To thee in thanks? I am and live
In thee; and thou dost safe preserve
My health, my fame, my goods, my rent:
Thou mak'st me eat, whilst others starve,
And sing, whilst others do lament.
Such unto me thy blessings are

As though I were thine only care.

But, Oh! my God, thou art more kind.
When I look inward on my mind,
Thou fill'st my heart with humble joy,

With patience meek, and fervent love