Sir Mighell having died without a son, his titles and estates went to his brother, Sir William.  Dame Elizabeth, widow of Sir Mighell, and her daughter Katharine, shortly afterwards, as was usual in these times, went to reside in the Abbey of Brasenode; and there they ultimately died.

Meanwhile, and for years afterwards, no one knew anything of Jane, who, though exiled from her rank and family, perhaps enjoyed more real happiness than those who had been guilty of her maltreatment.  At length, her husband died, which was a source of grief.  Honest William had thought her queer in manners; but he loved her for all that, and was proud of her, as the daughter of a poor gentleman.  He blessed her on his death-bed; and she remained a widow for his sake.  Many yeomen wished to marry her, but she refused them all.  This went on for many years—­long after Sir William a Poole had become fourth Earl of Suffolk, and had had children born to him; long after Alice Gryse had become Jane’s daughter-in-law, and made her more than once a grandmother too; and then the whole of this strange story became known.  Jane had kept her vow of secrecy with perfect fidelity; never had she breathed a syllable to her husband or children as to the family to which she belonged.  It was only, late in life, through confession she made to a priest, that who and what she had been was revealed.  Shocked with the depravity of her unnatural parents, this pious and learned doctor, says the chronicle, ’commanded her to publish this account to her children and their issues, that they might know of what race they came, if so be, by the great mercy of Providence, they might claim their own again.  And not only to them, but also to make it known to all men, as far as was consistent with her own safety; for he said, that the great power of Almighty God should be published to all the world.  For this reason was the chronicle written—­that all men might take warning; for no deed of wickedness is done in the dark, which shall not be dragged forth to the light; and no oppression on the innocent shall prosper before the right hand of Eternal Justice.’

THINGS TALKED OF IN LONDON.

March 1852.

The lecture experiment at the Museum of Practical Geology, in Jermyn Street, has proved eminently successful.  There were a thousand more applications for tickets than could be supplied, in consequence of which the executive very wisely determined, that the course should be repeated until the demand was satisfied.  This fact of numbers speaks highly in favour of the working-men of London—­none others are admitted to the course here referred to; and once having got the knowledge, it is to be hoped they will be able to turn it to good account.  One of the lecturers told me, that the hall is always crowded, and that a better-behaved auditory has seldom been seen in any quarter, which we may consider to be an encouraging sign of the times.