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284 event would terminate our increasing troubles. On the 30th of January, 1649, King Charles the First died calmly on the scaffold at Whitehall, in the presence of a multitude of his exulting or sorrowing subjects.

'I was then fifteen years of age, and had, with my father's and Banwell's assistance, made good progress in my medical and chemical studies. Our business, if it had not advanced very much, had not retrograded. My father had been enabled to pay some of his debts, for Kerford was an able manager, and a faithful servant. My mother received very little company, and was comparatively happy in a quiet and retired life. We derived scarcely any profit from our estate in Devonshire; but I looked forward anxiously and joyously to being able at some future time, when the country should be settled, to revisit the scene of so many pleasures. Helen was constantly in my thoughts. What had become of her and of her parents? Should I ever see her again, and would she be ever nearer and dearer to me than when I last had the pure delight of seeing her, and kissing her sweet lips? At last we heard, I believe when we were making no enquiries, that they had disappeared from Rhyndal House, and it was not known where they had gone to, or what had become of them.

'I must not spin out my story to an unreasonable length. One day Banwell and I carried a sum of money to a goldsmith in the City, who did business in the way of keeping his customers' cash in safe custody. We were old enough to wear swords, and we walked arm-in-arm for mutual security and defence. On our return we agreed to take a little country tour, which embraced one of the suburbs, for the sake of fresh air, and if possible a change of scene which might remind us of the green smiling country beyond. As we passed through the outskirts we heard a poorly clad woman, who seemed weary and travel-stained, warmly