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raw and undisciplined rustics, who had little else but good will to defend your Majesty with. It was then your Majesty mounted, and as we journeyed towards Moseley,* you did most heartily complain of the jade you rode on,

and said it was the dullest creature you ever met with; to which my brother Humphry replied, My liege, can you blame the horse to go heavily, when he has the weight of three kingdoms on his back?' At which your Majesty grew somewhat lighter, and commended brother Humphry's wit.' In like manner, did this poor peasant entertain Charles and his courtiers, until his Majesty thought proper to dismiss him, but not without settling a sufficient pension on him for life, on which he lived, in the vicinity of the court, until the 8th of February, 1671 (twenty years after the fatal battle of Worcester), when he died, much lamented by his Majesty, and other great personages, whom he had protected from savage barbarity, and fanatical persecution. His Royal Master, to perpetuate the memory of this faithful man, out of his princely munificence, caused a fair monument to be raised over him in the churchyard of St. Giles-in-the-Fields, near about the east end of the church.”

The Penderells were small farmers, holding under the great family of Giffard, of Chillington; and in their preservation of the King, their fidelity—so strong, indeed, as almost to have become a proverb—was rather towards their beloved chief the Giffard, than the Stuart.

Moseley was the seat of Thomas Whitgreave, Esq., a gentleman of devoted loyalty, to whom the King was deeply indebted for his preservation. After the Restoration, Mr. Whitgreave received a patent of an annuity of 2001. ; and his descendant, the present representative of the ancient family of Whitgreave, GEORGE THOMAS WHITGREAVE, Esq., of Moseley Court, has been granted an honourable augmentation to his arms, in consideration of his ancestor's eminent services.

They were dependents and followers of the former; and at the bidding of their liege lord, would have secreted, and guarded, and guided old Noll himself, with as much courage, perseverance, and zeal, as they showed to the worn and wearied monarch. At the time of Charles's escape, there were six brothers of the Penderells Of these, Richard, styled in consequence, “ Trusty Dick Penderell," had the honour of being the King's preserver. The first night after his Majesty's flight from Worcester, the royal wanderer took shelter at White Ladies, a house rented by the Penderells of the Giffards, about twenty miles distant from the field of battle. Here Charles rested till daybreak, when, having put on a leathern doublet and a green jerkin, and having cut his hair close, he accompanied Richard Penderell to a wood in the vicinity, where he remained without food or drink the whole day, and afterwards returned to another house belonging to William Penderell, whence he proceeded to Boscobel forest, so celebrated for his Majesty's preservation in the oak.

After the Restoration, a pension of £100 a year was settled on the Penderells, and remains, we believe, regularly paid to the present time.

THE LADIES OF LLANGOLLEN.

Now with a vestal lustre glows the vale,

Thine, sacred Friendship, permanent as pure;
In vain the stern authorities assail,

In vain Persuasion spreads her silken lure:

High born, and high endowed, the peerless twain Pant for coy Nature's charms, ʼmid silent dale and plain.

Through Eleanora, and her Sarah's mind,

Early true genius, taste, and fancy flow'd,
Through all the graceful arts their powers combined,

And her last polish brilliant life bestow'd,

The lavish promises in Youth's soft morn, · Pride, pomp, love, and their friends, the sweet enthusiasts scorn.

The celebrity of the Miss Gunnings, whom we have in a former page described, was achieved in the circle of fashion; the ladies of Llangollen became, in their day, no less remarkable; but their sphere was a remote vale in Wales, and their course of life one of secluded contentment. Heedless of the gay prospect that shone so brilliantly before them, reckless of its allurements, and wisely preferring the calm joys of retirement, the devoted friends, Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Sarah Ponsonby, took

up their abode in the Vale of Llangollen, and there passed the even tenour of their lives. Lady Eleanor was sister of John, Earl of Ormonde; and Miss Ponsonby, daughter of Chambre Brabazon Ponsonby, Esq., grand

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son of the first Lord Bessborough. Their ages and
tastes coincided; they were from childhood attached
companions, and both loved the quietude and occupa-
tions of the country. It was about the year 1779, when
the elder had scarcely passed her twenty-second year,
that they first planned their romantic seclusion, and first
made an effort to accomplish their object. On that wc-
casion, however, the influence of their relations diverted
them from their scheme, and restored them to their
respective homes. Yet still the prospect remained the
one cherished hope of their hearts ; the society in
which they moved had no attraction for them; a country
valley, secluded from the cares and turmoil of the world,
seemed, to their fanciful imaginations, the only scene of
true happiness :-

To them the deep recess of dusky groves
Or forest, where the deer securely roves,
The fall of waters, and the song of birds,
And hills that echo to the distant herds,
Were luxuries excelling all the glare

The world can boast.
Many and brilliant were the offers of marriage which
the daughter of the House of Ormonde received and
rejected. Her thoughts seemed ever bent on the realiza-
tion of the rural felicity her mind had pictured. At
length, the enthusiastic friends matured their plans, and
suddenly disappeared from their family mansions, taking
with them a small sum of money. The place of the:r
retreat, in the lovely Vale of Llangollen, they commu-
nicated to a female servant only, and for many years
they remained unknown to their neighbours by any
other appellation than that of “The Ladies of the Vale.'
Thus secluded full half a century, time glided happily
on; they frequently asserted, that though they had not
once forsaken their vale for thirty hours successively

since they entered it, yet neither the long summer's day nor winter's night, nor weeks of imprisoning snows, ever inspired one weary sensation--one wish of returning to that world they had first abandoned in the bloom of youth and pride of beauty. At length, death stole upon them, and their gentle spirits were wafted to that distant country where peace and happiness are everlasting. We annex a very interesting description by Miss Seward, of “the fairy palace” of the Ladies of Llangollen:

I resume my pen,” says the poetess of Lichfield, “ to speak to you of that enchanting unique, in conduct and situation, of which you have heard so much, though, as yet, without distinct description. You will guess that I mean the celebrated ladies of Llangollen Vale, their mansion, and their bowers.

“ By their own invitation, I drank tea with them thrice during the nine days of my visit to Dinbren; and, by their kind introduction, partook of a rural dinner, given by their friend, Mrs. Ormsby, amid the ruins of Valle-crucis, an ancient abbey, distant a mile and a half from their villa. Our party was large enough to fill three chaises and two phaetons.

“ After dinner, our whole party returned to drink tea and coffee in that retreat which breathes all the witchery of genius, taste, and sentiment. You remember Mr. Hayley's poetic compliment to the sweet miniature painter, Miers:

• His magic pencil, in its narrow space,
Pours the full portion of uninjured grace.'

So may it be said of the talents and exertion which converted a cottage, in two acres and a half of turnip ground, to a fairy palace, amid the bowers of Calypso.

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