“Yet a few months and the quiet village of Toddington, in Bedfordshire, witnessed a yet sadder funeral.  Near that village stood an ancient and stately hall, the seat of the Wentworths.  The transept of the parish church had long been their burial-place.  To that burial-place, in the spring which followed the death of Monmouth, was borne the coffin of the young Baroness Wentworth of Nettlestead.  Her family reared a sumptuous mausoleum over her remains; but a less costly memorial of her was long contemplated with far deeper interest:  her name, carved by the hand of him she loved too well, was, a few years ago, still discernible on a tree in the adjoining park.”

In further proof of identity, Dr. Anster pointed out several charms and recipes which the manuscript volume contains.  The conjurations are in general for the purpose of learning the results of sickness in any particular case, and of determining whether friends will be in certain circumstances faithful.  There are also incantations for the use of several maladies, and one to make gray hair grow black.  No “charms against being wounded in battle,” such are Sir John Reresby mentions, are to be found in the volume; but there are some prayers against violent death, which have the appearance of having been transcribed from some devotional book.  There is evidently a mistake in supposing that this book contains any charm for breaking open prison doors, and it is likely that Sir John Reresby was misled in this way:—­There is in p. 7. a charm in French to procure repose of body and mind, and deliverance from pains; and the word for “pains” is written in a contracted form; it might as well stand for prisons; but, examining the context, it is plainly the former word which is meant.

The rest of the entries consist of extracts from old recipe-books, mixed in the oddest way with abridgements of English history, and the most trifling memorandums, chiefly of a private and personal kind.  Altogether, this commonplace work is highly indicative of the weakness, vanity, and superstition which stood forward so prominently in the character of the rash but unfortunate Duke of Monmouth.

* * * * *

QUERIES.

CATHERINE PEGGE.

Mr. Cunningham was mistaken in supposing that I had overlooked Catherine Pegge, for I was well aware that she could not have been Pepys’s “pretty Lady.”  She must, in fact, have attained her fortieth year, and there is no record of her being on the stage; whereas Margaret Hughes had, when Pepys saluted her, recently joined the Theatre Royal, and she is expressly styled “Peg Hughes” by Tom Browne, in one of his “Letters from the Dead to the Living.”  Having disposed of this question, I am tempted to add that Morant does not confirm the statement that Catherine Pegge married Sir Edward Green, for he says that