pounds a year, is, betwixt knavery and foolery, turned out.  Dutchess of York and Prince Edgar, dead.  None left but daughters.  One Blud, outlawed for a plot to take Dublin Castle, and who seized on the Duke of Ormond here last year, and might have killed him, a most bold, and yet sober fellow, some months ago seized the crown and sceptre in the Tower, took them away, and if he had killed the keeper, might have carried them clear off.  He, being taken, astonished the King and Court, with the generosity, and wisdom, of his answers.  He, and all his accomplices, for his sake, are discharged by the King, to the wonder of all.—­Yours,” etc.

To William Ramsden, Esq.
“June 1672.

“DEAR WILL,—­Affairs begin to alter, and men talk of a peace with Holland, and taking them into our protection; and it is my opinion it will be before Michaelmas, for some reasons, not fit to write.  We cannot have a peace with France and Holland both.  The Dutch are now brought very low; but Amsterdam, and some other provinces, are resolved to stand out till the last.  De-wit is stabbed, and dead of his wounds.  It was at twelve a clock at night, the 11th of this month, as he came from the council at the Hague.  Four men wounded him with their swords.  But his own letter next morning to the States says nothing appeared mortal.  The whole Province of Utrecht is yielding up.  No man can conceive the condition of the State of Holland, in this juncture, unless he can at the same time conceive an earthquake, an hurricane, and the deluge.  France is potent and subtle.  Here have been several fires of late.  One at St. Catherine’s, which burned about six score or two hundred houses, and some seven or eight ships.  Another in Bishopsgate-street.  Another in Crichet Fryars.  Another in Southwark; and some elsewhere.  You may be sure all the old talk is hereupon revived.  There was the other day, though not on this occasion, a severe proclamation issued out against all who shall vent false news, or discourse ill concerning affairs of state.  So that in writing to you I run the risque of making a breech in the commandment.—­Yours,” etc.

The following letter deals with another matter of human concern than politics, for it seeks to condole with a father who has lost an only son.

   To Sir John Trott
          
                                                  (Undated.)

“HONOURED SIR,—­I have not that vanity to believe, if you weigh your late loss by the common ballance, that any thing I can write to you should lighten your resentments:  nor if you measure things by the rules of christianity, do I think it needful to comfort you in your duty and your son’s happyness.  Only having a great esteem and affection for you, and the grateful memory of him that is departed being still green and fresh upon my spirit, I cannot forbear to inquire, how you have stood the second shock at your sad meeting