same day against the king's coming to the citie, nine heads of the Kentishmen that had been put to death were set on London Bridge; and the captaine's head, that stood there before was set in the middest of them."

But as long as the Duke of York lived, all the efforts of the king's counsellors—whether they were conciliatory or the reverse- -were of little avail for the tranquillization of the commons; and seven years after the death of Cade a proclamation was issued for the apprehension of one Robert Poynings, uncle of the Countess of Northumberland, who had acted as Cade's carver and sword-bearer, and who, during the whole of this time, had been actively engaged in stirring up the commons of Kent to new rebellion, though with but slight success.

It has hitherto been considered, on the authority of Shakespeare and the early historians—not only that Cade was a vulgar "rowdy" and a man of no education or acquirements-but that his followers were a mere mob and rabble of the very lowest order. It appears, however,-from the Patent Roll of the twenty-eighth year of Henry the Sixth, which has recently been examined, and formed the subject of an interesting paper, which was read by Mr. William Durrant Cooper, at a meeting of the Archæological Society of Kent, at Ashford in that county, the scene of Cade's earliest exploits,-that this is a mis

take, and that among those who were pardoned for their participation in Cade's rebellion, are the names of several of the richest and most influential people of the county. There were knights, abbots, esquires, gentlemen, and yeomen, besides handicraftsmen of all sorts. "Cade's army was not a disorganized mob," says Mr. Cooper, "nor a chance gathering. In several hundreds the constables duly, and as if legally, summoned the men and many parishes, particularly Marden, Penshurst, Hawkhurst, Northfleet, Boughton, Smarden, and Pluckley, furnished as many men as could be found in our own day, fit for arms." Among the mayors, bailiffs, and constables, pardoned for having summoned the people to join Cade's standard-first at Ashford, and second at Blackheath, after his victory at Sevenoaks were the mayors of Canterbury, Chatham, Maidstone, Rochester, Sandwich, and Queensborough; the bailiff of Folkestone, and the constables of eight-and-twenty hundreds and villages, which are duly set forth in the roll. Among the gentlemen pardoned were several who had been, and several who afterwards became, sheriffs of Kent. Many families, who to this day hold their heads high in Kent, Surrey, and Sussex, will find the names of their ancestors in this document-if they choose to look for them; while in the list will be found many names once common that have now

wholly disappeared, to crop up, perhaps, in unexpected places in America.

Shakespeare puts into the mouth of the dying Cade, after his fatal combat with Iden in the gaiden, the words:

Tell Kent, from me, she hath lost her best man—

and it does not appear, from an impartial review of his whole story and the light thrown upon it by documentary evidence, that the boast was at all unfounded.

T is a great thing to be a popular poet. Your name is in the mouths of young ladies (if there be any good to you in

that), and your words are sometimes quoted with approval by statesmen and philosophers, and may help to mould the public opinion of your time-an advantage which is pleasant, if it be not always profitable. But will your popularity last beyond your lifetime? Will it last even until you die? There's the rub-a-rub, which, if unaccompanied by substantial reward, is apt to infuse a little, just a little drop of gall and bitterness into the cup of your apparent good fortune. In the reign of Charles the Second there flourished four poets: three of them were popular, and one was not. Let me say a few words about each of them, and see what the popularity of the three was worth, and

what came of it. After that we shall consider the unpopularity of the fourth.

The first was one Thomas, better known as "Tom" D'Urfey, just as people now talk affectionately, though possibly somewhat irreverently, of "Tom" Moore, "Tom" Campbell, and "Tom" Hood. He was the pet and idol of his age; and Charles II. was more than once seen walking in the Mall in St. James's Park in familiar talk with him, his dogs and his courtiers falling behind. Nay, the merry monarch carried his complaisance still further, and condescended to sing duets with him, Tom and he holding the music sheet between them--a fact which the poet has recorded in his memoirs with great gusto and satisfaction. D'Urfey was principally known for his songs, which he wrote to old and popular tunes-sometimes, if not invariably, adopting as much as was quotable of the old words and choruses to new themes, and otherwise altering and amending, as Robert Burns did with the popular songs of Scotland more than a century later. The king was partial to the fiddle, as the violin was then called both by the fashionable and the unfashionable, and to those lively airs and jig tunes of which the fiddle was the best exponent. When in exile, with but slight chance of ever sitting on the throne of his ancestors, and when he could but ill afford luxuries of any kind, he lavished such money as he