have made use of Lord Portland's closet, as I told you in my last I would.

The house would have been ready by Tuesday night, and I hope will be in better order now; at least, it shall not be my fault if 'tis not. I shall be very impatient to hear again from you, till when I shall be in perpetual pain and trouble; which I think you can't wonder at, knowing that you are dearer to me than life.

CROMWELL TO HIS WIFE

T

he letters of the Protector to his wife, brief though they are, reveal certain characteristics which may be found in everything that he did, notwithstanding the fact that these things are still a subject of dispute by royalists, Presbyterians, and republicans. But whatever the final verdict shall be, he was at least a great genius. From a private citizen he became a great prince, and bore himself until the end with dignity, power, and wisdom. More than this, he is the symbol of Puritanism wherever found, and in all its qualities, whether commendable or not. The words "thee and thy little ones," which stand for the good wife Elizabeth and Richard and Henry, likewise "thy son and daughter," meaning Richard and his spouse, reveal a touch of homely tenderness which, although not always evi

dent, should always be borne in

mind in studying the deeds

of Oliver Cromwell.

TO ELIZABETH CROMWELL

M

For my beloved wife, Elizabeth Cromwell, at the Cock

pit, these:

MY DEAREST,

DUNBAR, 4th September, 1650.

I have not leisure to write much; but I could chide thee that in many of thy letters thou writest to me that I should not be unmindful of thee and thy little ones. Truly, if I love thee not too well, I think not I err on the other hand much. Thou art dearer to me than any creature; let that suffice.

The Lord hath showed us an exceeding mercy; who can tell how great it is? My weak faith hath been upheld. I have been in my inward man marvellously supported, though I assure thee I grow an old man, and feel infirmities marvellously stealing upon me. Would my corruptions did as fast decrease! Pray on my behalf in the latter respect. The particulars of our late success Harry Vane or Gilbert Pickering will impart to thee. My love to all dear friends.

I rest thine

OLIVER CROMWELL

For my beloved wife, Elizabeth Cromwell, at the Cockpit, these:

MY DEAREST,

EDINBURGH, 3rd May, 1651.

I could not satisfy myself to omit this post, although I have not much to write; yet indeed I love to write to my dear, who is very much in my heart. It joys me to hear thy soul prospereth; the Lord increase his favours to thee more and more. The great good thy soul can wish is, that the Lord lift upon thee the light of his countenance, which is better than life. The Lord bless all thy good counsel and example to all those about thee, and hear all thy prayers, and accept thee always.

I am glad to hear thy son and daughter are with thee. I hope thou wilt have some good opportunity of good advice to him. Present my duty to my mother, my love to all the family. Still pray for thine

OLIVER CROMWELL

RALEIGH TO HIS WIFE

Here

ere are two letters written by one of the most remarkable men England has produced. Similar circumstances surround the writing of each, although fifteen years separate them. And the beautiful tenderness of both is an eloquent tribute to the character of the man who wrote them.

Having already made, as every schoolboy knows, two voyages to America, and brought back tobacco and potatoes instead of diamonds and gold, Sir Walter Raleigh then planned his first voyage to Guiana, where he hoped to gain booty of more immediate intrinsic value. He was away a year, and returned practically empty handed, but with the news of having discovered a rich and beautiful land. During his absence his enemies had been at work, and he suddenly found himself in disfavour with Queen Elizabeth. Her death came before the breach could be healed.

The attitude of her successor, James I, toward Raleigh is rather to be explained by his admiration for Lady Arabella Stuart than for his failure as an English Columbus. Raleigh was also intimate with the morganatic husband of Lady Arabella. There is no ground,