moment; but they may accidentally confirm or disprove some disputed points of history.  There is an entry without a date, describing the stages of a journey in England, commencing with London and Hampstead:  it ends with Toddington.  This forms a strong link in the chain of identity; for Toddington is a place remarkable in the history of the duke.  Near it was the residence of Lady Henrietta Maria Wentworth, baroness (in her own right) of Nettlestead, only daughter and heir of Thomas Lord Wentworth, grandchild and heir of the Earl of Cleveland.  Five years before the execution, her mother observed that, despite the duke being a married man, her daughter had, while at court, attracted his admiration, and she hurried her away to Toddington.  In 1683, after the failure of the Rye-House Plot, Monmouth was banished from the royal presence, and it was to Toddington he retired.  When, on retracting the confession he had made on the occasion, he was banished the kingdom, the companion of his exile was Lady Henrietta Wentworth.

“I dwell on this,” said Dr. Anster, “because the accidental mention of Toddington seems to authenticate the book:  the name of Lady Henrietta Wentworth does not occur in it, and the persons in whose hands the book has been since it was purchased in Paris do not seem to have noticed the name of Toddington, or to have known that it had any peculiar relation to the duke’s history.  It occurs twice in the book—­once in the itinerary, and again in a trifling and unmetrical song, which is probably the duke’s own composition; written probably on the eve of his flight with his romantic but guilty companion to Holland:—­

  “’With joy we leave thee,
  False world, and do forgive
  All thy false treachery. 
  For now we’ll happy live. 
  We’ll to our bowers,
  And there spend our hours;
  Happy there we’ll be,
  We no strifes can see;
  No quarrelling for crowns,
  Nor fear the great one’s frowns;
  Nor slavery of state,
  Nor changes in our fate. 
  From plots this place is free,
  There we’ll ever be;
  We’ll sit and bless our stars
  That from the noise of wars
  Did this glorious place give
  (Or did us Toddington give)
  That thus we happy live.’”

In Macaulay’s history we find that the latest act of the duke on the scaffold, before submitting to the stroke of the executioner, was to call his servant, and put into the man’s hand a toothpick-case, the last token of ill-starred love.  “Give it,” he said, “to that person!” After the description of Monmouth’s burial occurs the following affecting passage:—­