He thinks (with me) that it never was in his power to bring in the King
with the consent of any of his officers about him; and that he scorned
to bring him in as Monk did, to secure himself and deliver every body
else. When I told him of what I found writ in a French book of one
Monsieur Sorbiere, that gives an account of his observations herein
England; among other things he says, that it is reported that Cromwell
did, in his life-time, transpose many of the bodies of the Kings of
England from one grave to another, and that by that means it is not
known certainly whether the head that is now set up upon a post be that
of Cromwell, or of one of the Kings; Mr. White tells me that he believes
he never had so poor a low thought in him to trouble himself about it.
He says the hand of God is much to be seen; that all his children are
in good condition enough as to estate, and that their relations that
betrayed their family are all now either hanged or very miserable.

14th. Up by break of day, and got to Brampton by three o'clock, where my
father and mother overjoyed to see me, my mother, ready to weepe every
time she looked upon me. After dinner my father and I to the Court, and
there did all our business to my mind, as I have set down in a paper
particularly expressing our proceedings at this court. So home, where W.
Joyce full of talk and pleased with his journey, and after supper I to
bed and left my father, mother, and him laughing.

15th. My father and I up and walked alone to Hinchingbroke; and among
the other late chargeable works that my Lord hath done there, we saw
his water-works and the Oral which is very fine; and so is the house all
over, but I am sorry to think of the money at this time spent
therein. Back to my father's (Mr. Sheply being out of town) and there
breakfasted, after making an end with Barton about his businesses,
and then my mother called me into the garden, and there but all to no
purpose desiring me to be friends with John, but I told her I cannot,
nor indeed easily shall, which afflicted the poor woman, but I cannot
help it. Then taking leave, W. Joyce and I set out, calling T. Trice at
Bugden, and thence got by night to Stevenage, and there mighty merry,
though I in bed more weary than the other two days, which, I think,
proceeded from our galloping so much, my other weariness being almost
all over; but I find that a coney skin in my breeches preserves me
perfectly from galling, and that ea