stags, which mighty achievement, by authentic record, we find
was accomplished before dinner--the king alone being able to bring down
the venison.

We willingly pass over this day's banquet; nor do we care to chronicle
the feats of Morris the head-cook, and his deputies of the ranges and
the pastries. The boiling and roasting of poults and pullets, and the
construction of comfits and confections, we consign to everlasting
oblivion.

When the king rose from table, about four o'clock, as we find it in the
private journal of one present, he purposed to view the alum-mines,
about two miles distant from the Tower; but, being eager for the sport,
he went forth again a-hunting. He shot at a stag and missed. The next
bolt broke the thigh-bone, and the dog being long in coming, Lord
Compton despatched the poor beast, whereby his capture was effected. We
forbear to dwell on this, and much more of the like interest, returning
with the king to supper, where the beauteous Grace Gerard was present,
and Sir John Finett, her true knight and devoted slave. Dr Morton, then
Bishop of Chester, was chaplain, doling out a long Latin grace with
great unction.

The music had ceased, the second course being just served, when a signal
was given for the king's pledge.

"Let each one pledge the fairest," cried the royal toast-master, moved
to some unwonted gallantry by approximation with the fair and lusty
dames about his person. For it hath been wittily if not wickedly said by
a popular writer in another place that James was in all things like unto
Solomon, save in the matter of women.

Now was there a brave stir throughout the assembly. Such pledging of
mistresses and challenging of cups, that nothing could be like unto it.

"To the bright eyes and peerless grace of the lady Grace Gerard," said
Sir John Finett, draining his goblet to the uttermost;--and the maiden's
cheek glowed like a furnace.

"Said I not that he could win a lady's grace sooner than a monarch's
disfavour? Nay, your Majesty, I but meant that Sir John conveys the
fairest eyes and the warmest hearts into his own keeping, like an
_Ochus-Bochus_," said Buckingham, looking envious at the distinction he
had gained.

"I see plainly that Truth is hidden in a well," said Goring, drily.

Sir John Finett, courtier and dissembler as he was, could scarcely hide
the truth of this sally. But he quickly recovered his self-possession
ere the king's eye could detect a change. Yet did