sh Queen, the portrait still remains a
vivid and in many respects a faithful likeness. In his preface
to the first edition of "Kenilworth," which was published in
January, 1821, Scott, referring to his delineation of
Elizabeth, admits that he is a "Scottishman," and therefore
may be pardoned for looking at his subject with certain
prejudices. Another source of inspiration that led him to
write the romance was the old ballad of "Cumnor Hall," in
which the tale of Amy Robsart is told. Scott's genius for
depicting the life and manners and customs of the Middle Ages,
of visualising scenes of long-gone chivalry, is exhibited in
"Kenilworth" as in none other of his works. In common also
with all his historical novels, "Kenilworth" bears witness to
its author's passion for historical truth.

_I.--At Cumnor_

The village of Cumnor, within three or four miles of Oxford, boasted in
the eighteenth of Queen Elizabeth an excellent inn, conducted by Giles
Gosling, whom no one excelled in his power of pleasing his guests of
every description.

A traveller in the close of the evening was ushered, with much semblance
of welcome, into a large, low chamber, where several persons were seated
in different parties, some drinking, some playing cards, some
conversing.

The host soon recognised, without satisfaction, his graceless nephew,
Michael Lambourne, who had not been heard of for long years; but, saying
his sister's son should be called to no reckoning in his house, he
heartily invited all who would to join them at supper in honour of his
nephew's return. Many present remembered him as a school companion, and
so forth, and, encouraged by the precept and example of Michael
Lambourne, they soon passed the limits of temperance, as was evident
from the bursts of laughter with which his inquiries after old
acquaintances were answered. Giles Gosling made some sort of apology to
a solitary guest who had sat apart for their license; they would be
to-morrow a set of painstaking mechanics, and so forth, though to-night
they were such would-be rufflers, and prevailed on him to join them.

Most of Michael's old friends seemed to have come to some sad end, but
one, Tony Foster, for whom he inquired had married, and become a good
Protestant, and held his head high, and scorned his old companions. He
now dwelt at Cumnor Place, an old mansion house, and had nothing to do
with an