engraved his portrait for the translation of _Lucretius_. In Walpole's
Anecdotes is his portrait, by Bannerman.

[67] In "A Picturesque Promenade round Dorking," are selected many
interesting particulars of Mr. Evelyn.

[68] Essex lost his head for having said that Elizabeth grew old and
cankered, and that her mind was as crooked as her carcase. Perhaps the
beauty of Mary galled Elizabeth.

The Quarterly Review of July, 1828, thus remarks:--"When Elizabeth's
wrinkles waxed many, it is reported that an unfortunate master of the
Mint incurred disgrace, by a too faithful shilling; the die was broken,
and only one mutilated impression is now in existence. Her maids of
honour took the hint, and were thenceforth careful that no fragment of a
looking glass should remain in any room of the palace. In fact, the
lion-hearted lady had not heart to look herself in the face for the last
twenty years of her life."

It seems that Elizabeth was fond of executions. She loved Essex, of all
men, best; and yet the same axe which murdered Anne Bulleyn, was used to
revenge herself on him. The bloody task took three strokes, which so
enraged the multitude, (who loved Essex) that they would have torn the
executioner to pieces, had not the soldiers prevented them. Mr. Hutton,
in his "Journey to London," observes, that "their vengeance ought to
have been directed against the person who caused him to use it." What
her reflections were on these two bloody acts when on her death-bed, we
scarcely know. A modern writer on horticulture, nearly concludes a very
pleasing work, by enumerating (with slight historical notices) the
several plants cultivated in our gardens. He thus concludes his account
of one:--"Queen Elizabeth, in her last illness, eat little but Succory
Pottage." Mr. Loudon says it is used "as a fodder for cattle." The
French call it Chicoree _sauvage_. Her taste must have been something
like her heart. Poor Mary eat no supper the night previous to _her_ last
illness. Had it been possible for Elizabeth to have read those pages of
Robertson, which paint the long succession of calamities which befel
Mary, and the insolence and brutality she received from Darnley, and
which so eloquently plead for her frailties, perhaps even these pages
would not have softened her bloody disposition, which she seems to have
inherited from that insolent monster, her father. "Mary's sufferings
(says this enchanting historian) exceed, both in degree and du