be their letter
to the Queen, with other necessary documents, to be entrusted to his
care. He also suggested that the draft or minute of their proposed
epistle should be submitted to him for advice--"because the humours of
her Majesty were best known to him."

Now the humours of her Majesty were best known to Leicester of all men in
the whole world, and it is inconceivable that he should have allowed so
many days and weeks to pass without taking these humours properly into
account. But the Earl's head was slightly turned by his sudden and
unexpected success. The game that he had been pursuing had fallen into
his grasp, almost at the very start, and it is not astonishing that he
should have been somewhat absorbed in the enjoyment of his victory.

Three days later (6th February) the minute of a letter to Elizabeth,
drawn up by Menin, was submitted to the ambassador; eight days after that
(14th February) Mr. Davison took leave of the States, and set forth for
the Brill on his way to England; and three or four days later yet, he was
still in that sea-port, waiting for a favourable wind. Thus from the 11th
January, N.S., upon which day the first offer of the absolute government
had been made to Leicester, nearly forty days had elapsed, during which
long period the disobedient Earl had not sent one line, private or
official, to her Majesty on this most important subject. And when at last
the Queen was to receive information of her favourite's delinquency, it
was not to be in his well-known handwriting and accompanied by his
penitent tears and written caresses, but to be laid before her with all
the formality of parchment and sealingwax, in the stilted diplomatic
jargon of those "highly-mighty, very learned, wise, and very foreseeing
gentlemen, my lords the States-General." Nothing could have been managed
with less adroitness.

Meantime, not heeding the storm gathering beyond the narrow seas, the new
governor was enjoying the full sunshine of power. On the 4th February the
ceremony of his inauguration took place, with great pomp and ceremony at
the Hague.

The beautiful, placid, village-capital of Holland wore much the same
aspect at that day as now. Clean, quiet, spacious streets, shaded with
rows of whispering poplars and umbrageous limes, broad sleepy
canals--those liquid highways alone; which glided in phantom silence the
bustle, and traffic, and countless cares of a stirring population--quaint
toppling houses, with t