violent a fever, that my life was despaired of, when a letter came from my spouse, reproving my womanish credulity, and assured me all was well, and the child in perfect health; on which I mended daily, and recovered my wonted state of ease, till about six weeks after the fatal day, I received an eclaircissement from Mr. Dryden, with a full account of the whole truth, which belike he feared to acquaint me with till the danger was over. It was this: In the month of August, being Charles's anniversary, it happened that Lord Berkshire had made a general hunting-match, to which were invited all the adjacent gentlemen; Mr. Dryden being at his house, and his brother-inlaw, could not be dispensed with from appearing.

I have told you, that Mr. Dryden, either through fear of being thought superstitious, or thinking it a science beneath his study, was extremely cautious in letting any one know that he was a dabbler in astrology, therefore could not excuse his absence from the sport; but he took care to set the boy a double exercise in the Latin tongue (which he taught his children himself), with a strict charge not to stir out of the room till his return, well knowing the task he had set him would take up longer time. Poor Charles was all obedience, and sat close to his duty, when, as ill fate ordained, the stag made towards the house. The noise of the dogs, horns, etc. alarmed the family to partake of the sport; and one of the servants coming down stairs, the door being open, saw the child hard at his exercise without being moved. 'Master,' cried the fellow, why do you sit there? come down, come down, and see the sport.' 'No,' replied Charles, my papa has forbid me, and I dare not.' 'Pish!' quoth the clown,

'vather shall never know it; so takes the child

by the hand, and leads him away; when, just as they came to the gate, the stag, being at bay with the dogs, cut a bold stroke, and leaped over the court-wall, which was very low and very old, and the dogs following, threw down at once a part of the wall ten yards in length, under which my dear child lay buried. He was as soon as possible dug out; but, alas, how mangled! his poor little head being crushed to a perfect mash. In this miserable condition he continued above six weeks, without the least hope of life. Through the Divine Providence he recovered, and in process of time, having a most advantageous invitation to Rome, from my uncle, Cardinal Howard, we sent over our two sons Charles and John (having, through the grace of God, been ourselves admitted into the true Catholic faith); they were received suitable to the grandeur and generosity of his eminence, and Charles immediately planted in a post of honour, as gentleman-usher to his Holiness, in which he continued about nine years. But what occasions me to mention this, is an allusion to my dear Mr. Dryden's too fatal prediction. In his twenty-third year, being in perfect health, he had attended some ladies of the palace, his Holiness's nieces, as it was his place, on a party of pleasure. His brother John and he lodged together, at the top of an old round tower belonging to the Vatican (with a well staircase, much like the Monument), when he knew his brother Charles was returned, went up, thinking to find him there, and to go to bed. But, alas! no brother was there: on which he made a strict enquiry at all the places he used to frequent, but no news, more than that he was seen by the centinel to go up the staircase. On which he got an order for the door of the foundation of the tower to be opened, where they found

my poor unfortunate son Charles mashed to a mummy, and weltering in his own blood. How this happened, he gave no farther account, when he could speak, than, that the heat of the day had been most excessive, and as he came to the top of the tower, he found himself seized with a megrim, or swimming in his head, and leaning against the iron rails, it is to be supposed, tipped over, five stories deep. Under this grievous mischance, his Holiness (God bless him!) omitted nothing that might conduce to his recovery; but as he lay many months without hopes of life, so when he did recover his health, it was always very imperfect, and he continues still to be of a hectic disposition.

'You see here (continued Lady Elizabeth) the too true fulfilling of two of my dear husband's fatal predictions. But, alas! my friend, there is a third to come, which is, that in his thirty-third or thirty-fourth year, he or I shall die a violent death; but he could not say which would go first. I heartily pray it may be myself: But as I have ten thousand fears, the daily challenges Charles sends to Lord Jefferies, on his ungenerous treatment of my dear Mr. Dryden's corpse; and as he has some value for you, I beg, my dearest friend, that you would dissuade him as much as you can from taking that sort of justice on Lord Jefferies, lest it should fulfil his dear father's prediction.'

"Thus far Lady Elizabeth's own words.

"This, if required, I can solemnly attest was long before Mr. Charles died; to the best of my remembrance it was in 1701 or 1702, I will not be positive which. But in 1703, Lady Elizabeth was seized with a nervous fever, which deprived her of her memory and understanding (which surely may

be termed a moral death), though she lived some years after. But Mr. Charles, in August 1704, was unhappily drowned at Windsor, as before recited. He had, with another gentleman, swam twice over the Thames; but venturing a third time, it was supposed he was taken with the cramp, because he called out for help, though too late. I am, Sir, etc.

June 18, 1729.

CORINNA."

Mr. CHARLES DRYDEN'S Letter to CORINNA.

'MADAM,

'Notwithstanding I have been seized with a fever ever since I saw you last, I have this afternoon endeavoured to do myself the honour of obeying my Lady Chudleigh's commands. My fever is still increasing, and I beg you to peruse the following verses, according to your own sense and discretion, which far surpasses mine in all respects. In a small time of intermission from my illness, I write these following:

MADAM,

How happy is our British isle, to bear
Such crops of wit and beauty to the fair?
A female muse each vying age has blest,
And the last Phoenix still excels the rest :
But you such solid learning add to rhymes,
Your sense looks fatal to succeeding times;
Which, raised to such a pitch, o'erflows like Nile,
And with an after-dearth must seize our isle.
Alone of all your sex, without the rules
Of formal pedants, or the noisy schools,
(What nature has bestowed will art supply?)

Have traced the various tracts of dark philosophy.

What happy days had wise Aurelius seen,
If, for Faustina, you his wife had been!
No jarring nonsense had his soul oppressed,
For he with all he wished for had been blessed.

'Be pleased to tell me what you find amiss, or correct it yourself, and excuse this trouble from Your most humble and

most obedient servant,

Easter-Eve.

CHAR. DRYDEN.'

"I have searched all our ecclesiastical offices for the will of Mr. Dryden, but I find he did not make any; administration was granted to his son Charles (his wife, the Lady Elizabeth Howard, being a lunatic for some time before her death) in June 1700."