her as the sun, is peculiarly
graceful. It runs thus:

You meaner beauties of the night,
That poorly satisfy our eyes,
More by your number than your light,--
You common people of the skies,
What are you when the sun shall rise?

But the sun is set, and the beautiful Queen's sad, romantic story almost
forgotten.

Sir John Grenvile was a son of the valiant and loyal cavalier, Sir Bevil
Grenvile, of Kelkhampton, Cornwall. He served the King successfully in
the west of England, and was dangerously wounded at Newbury. He was
entrusted by Charles II. to negotiate with General Monk. Monk's brother
was vicar of Kelkhampton, so that Grenvile and Monk would in all
probability be well acquainted before the time of the negotiation. We
may remember, too, that Dorothy's younger brother was on intimate terms
with General Monk's relations in Cornwall.

There must be letters missing here, for we cannot believe more than a
month passed without Dorothy writing a single letter.

I wonder you did not come before your last letter. 'Twas dated the 24th
of August, but I received it not till the 1st of September. Would to God
your journey were over! Every little storm of wind frights me so, that I
pass here for the greatest coward that ever was born, though, in
earnest, I think I am as little so as most women, yet I may be deceived,
too, for now I remember me you have often told me I was one, and, sure,
you know what kind of heart mine is better than anybody else.

I am glad you are pleased with that description I made you of my humour,
for, though you had disliked it, I am afraid 'tis past my power to help.
You need not make excuses neither for yours; no other would please me
half so well. That gaiety which you say is only esteemed would be
insupportable to me, and I can as little endure a tongue that's always
in motion as I could the click of a mill. Of all the company this place
is stored with, there is but two persons whose conversation is at all
easy; one is my eldest niece, who, sure, was sent into the world to show
'tis possible for a woman to be silent; the other, a gentleman whose
mistress died just when they should have married; and though 'tis many
years since, one may read it in his face still. His humour was very
good, I believe, before that accident, for he will yet say things
pleasant enough, but 'tis so seldom that he speaks at all, and when he
does 'tis with so s