husiastic, frequenting the drawing-rooms and assemblies of Yarmouth,
dressed in the richest silks, and with a small black hood on her head.
When she left, which would be at one in the morning, perched on her
old-fashioned saddle, she would trot home, piercing the night air with
her loud, jubilant psalms, in which she described herself as one of the
elect, in a tone more remarkable for strength than sweetness. In the
daytime she would work with her labourers, taking her turn at the
pitchfork or the spade. The old Court dresses of her mother and Mrs.
Cromwell were bequeathed by her to Mrs. Robert Luson, of Yarmouth, and
were shown as recently as 1834, at an exhibition of Court dresses held at
the Somerset Gallery in the Strand. As was to be expected, Mrs. Bendish
was enthusiastic in the cause of the Revolution of 1688, and the printed
sheets relating to it were dropped by her secretly in the streets of
Yarmouth, to prepare the people for the good time coming. Her son was a
friend of Dr. Watts as well as his mother. He died at Yarmouth,
unmarried, in the year 1753, and with him the line of Bendish seems to
have come to an end. Another daughter of Ireton was married to Nathaniel
Carter, who died in 1723, aged 78. His father, John Carter, was
commander-in-chief of the militia of the town in 1654. He subscribed the
Solemn League and Covenant, being then one of the elders of the
Independent congregation. He was also bailiff of the town, and an
intimate friend of Ireton. He died in 1667. On his tombstone we read:

'His course, his fight, his race,
Thus finished, fought, and run,
Death brings him to the place
From whence is no return.'

He lived at No. 4, South Quay, and it was there, so it is said, that the
resolve was made that King Charles should die.

He is gone, but his room still remains unaltered--a large wainscoted
upper chamber, thirty feet long, with three windows looking on to the
quay, with carved and ornamented chimney-piece and ceiling. A great
obscurity, as was to be expected, hangs over the transaction, as even now
there are men who shrink from lifting up a finger against the Lord's
anointed. Dinner had been ordered at four, but it was not till eleven,
that it was served, and that the die had been cast. The members of the
Secret Council, we are told, 'after a very short repast, immediately set
off by post--many for London, and some for the quarters of the army.'
Such is the