“The events of English history then not recorded, had a kind of traditional history more vivid, if not so faithful as the records of modern historians, in the memories of those who had been agents and sufferers (the terms are probably synonimous) in those memorable periods.
“There was an entertainment then, banished by modern dissipation now, but alluded to by the great poet of that nation, whom your orthodox and undeniable creed justly devotes to eternal damnation.
“In winter’s tedious nights sit by the fire,
----------------and tell the tales Of woful ages long ago betid; And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
“When memory thus becomes the depository of grief, how faithfully is the charge kept!--and how much superior are the touches of one who paints from the life, and the heart, and the senses,--to those of one who dips his pen in his ink-stand, and casts his eye on a heap of musty parchments, to glean his facts or his feelings from them! Mrs Ann Mortimer had much to tell,--and she told it well. If history was the subject, she could relate the events of the civil wars--events which resembled indeed those of all civil wars, but which derived a peculiar strength of character, and brilliancy of colouring, from the hand by which they were sketched. She told of the time when she rode behind her brother, Sir Roger, to meet the King at Shrewsbury; and she almost echoed the shout uttered in the streets of that loyal city, when the University of Oxford sent in its plate to be coined for the exigences of the royal cause. She told also, with grave humour, the anecdote of Queen Henrietta making her escape with some difficulty from a house on fire,--and, when her life was scarce secure from the flames that consumed it, rushing back among them--to save her lap-dog!
