still it wavered not nor melted into air. So, rejoicingly they steered towards it, and ere the night closed in upon them the mountains of Minorca-cloud-like stillloomed upon their gaze. Morning light revealed still more clearly to their watching eyes the friendly coast, and by ten o'clock that night they had landed. Then, indeed, were they "glad, and gave thanks unto Him who had brought them unto the haven where they would be." Immediately they had run their boat ashore, some of the party went in search of food, nor had they wandered far before they came upon a Spanish watch-tower, and no sooner had they told their wondrous story than their astonished hearers hasted to load them with food, which they joyfully took to their companions, who, meantime, had found a stream near at hand, by the side of which they all sat down, and having eaten and drank with thankful hearts they laid them down to sleep.

village of Berry Pomeroy, so named after the noble family of Pomarai. It is impospossible to guess what the castle which they once inhabited, and now lies in ruins, must have been in its palmy days, so little now remains to show the ancient magnificence of a place respecting which it is said that it was no light day's labor for a servant to open and shut the casements of the windows, at present draperied only with ivy and ferns. No traces are there now of the former splendor of its chambers, once adorned with statues of alabaster, chimney-pieces of marble, and ceilings of the most delicate fretwork; in vain, also, we looked for any remains of the noble terrace walk that formerly extended before the great entrance, and was all arched over with freestone, elaborately carved and ornamented with various devices, and supported in front by stately pillars; whilst in the opposing wall were placed stone seats cut in the form of scallopshells, wherein delicate ladies and weary pilgrims might rest and feast their eyes the while on the lovely views before them, the undulating wooded heights and verdant glades, wherein were standing stately trees, beneath whose shade herds of dappled deer rested amongst the bracken, and there found shelter from the noontide heat.

Next morning they made diligent haste to the town, where they were kindly welcomed by the viceroy, and hospitably entertained by the citizens, who were so struck with the recital of their adventures that they caused the canvas boat to be brought up from the shore, and placed as a votive offering in their great church, where a traveller saw the ribs and skeleton still hanging in the year 1771. As soon as William Adams and his shipmates had recovered from the hardships they had undergone, they took their passage on one of the King of Spain's ships bound for Alicant, whence they sailed for England, where they arrived in safety in the month of September of the same year.

William Adams lived many years after this adventure, made numerous voyages, became a prosperous man, and spent his green and peaceful old age in the village which had been his birthplace, and where, to use the words of his biographer, "he died in the year of our Lord 1687, and his body, so like to feed fishes, lies buried in Paignton Churchyard, about four miles east of Totness, where it feedeth worms." A little while after reading this story of Adams, we made an excursion in the neighborhood of Paignton, and tried to discover his grave in the churchyard there. But we sought in vain; none of the mossgrown tombstones bore his name: the place that had known him knew him no more. On our return the evening of that day to Totness, we halted at the little

Here the Pomerais had their dwelling for upwards of five hundred years, holding their state amongst the greatest in the land; not only marrying their daughters to some of the principal peers of the realm, but allying themselves with the blood-royal itself. Famed too they were for pious deeds, one of them giving this very lordship of Biry, afterwards redeemed by his brother, to the monks of Gloucester; another employing large sums of money in restoring the magnificent Abbey of Buckfast. Time would fail us to enumerate the largesses bestowed by these noble barons upon the church; but before we take leave of them altogether, let us glance over the romantic story of Henry de la Pomerai as given in these chronicles. It appears that he took arms against his liege lord King Richard, then in the Holy Land; and, in behalf of John, expelled the monks from their home on St. Michael's Mount, turning their convent into a fortress. But "hearing soon after of his sovereign's enlargement," so writes old Hollinshed, "he died with thought," or, as another says, "the very fear of ensuing harm wrought

in him a present effort of the utmost that any harm could bring, and that was death." Evening had closed in when we drove back from the castle to Totness, and beautiful were the changing lights that glowed in the sky, and steeped the nearer hills in a golden mist, whilst the heights of Dartmoor stood up calm and dark against the deep purple heaven, the steep crags of Haytor lifting higher still their sharp crests into the living light of the sunset. Now that Totness has been mentioned, we may as well see whether Prince mentions it as the birthplace of any of his Devon worthies. Yes, curiously enough, he says it was celebrated in the good old time for its lawyers, as indeed were many other towns in Devonshire, according to quaint Dr. Fuller, who asserts that "the natives of this county seem innated with a genius to study law, there being no other in England, Norfolk only excepted, who by the practice thereof have raised such great estates." But it is not of lawyers alone that Totness can make her boast, for though George Carew, Baron of Clopton, and son of Dr. Carew, Archdeacon of Totness, was born at Exeter, the town can claim him as being the first of her earls to whom she gave a title. And well the gallant soldier deserved his dignities, if we may judge from the following letter which Queen Elizabeth wrote to him with her own hand after he had quelled the rebellion in Ireland:

MY FAITHFUL GEORGE,-If ever more services of worth were performed in shorter space than you have done, we are deceived among many eyewitnesses; we have received the fruit thereof, and bid you faithfully credit that whatso wit, courage, or care may do, we truly find they have been thorowly acted in all your charge. And for the same believe that it shall neither be unremembered nor unrewarded. And in the mean time believe my help nor prayers shall never fail you. Your Sovereign that best regards you.

E. R.

Certes, those were times worth living in, and this without any disparagement to the present. Brave, high-hearted, noble, and generous old times, when a queen could so write, and a subject so deserve such praise. "Not unremembered-not unrewarded;" sweet, touching, inspiring words, well fit to nerve the arm and invigorate the heart amidst the din of battle, or of wordy conflicts waged in the Councilchamber. Not unrewarded in life-not unremembered after death! Who would

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not gladly have sacrificed himself in the service of such a mistress, if so be that he might add one more jewel to her already lustrous crown?

It was, however, by Charles I. that Sir George was created Earl of Totness, after having been constituted Lord President of Munster, and Master of the Ordnance in Ireland, by Queen Elizabeth, and Governor of the Isle of Guernsey and Castle Barnet by King James, who also advanced him to the dignity of a Baron of the realm. It was not only as a gallant soldier, a skillful commander, or an able statesman, that George Carew was famed; in his early days he had studied at Oxford, and though the profession of arms had been dearer to him in his youth than that of arts, he afterwards became imbued with a love of letters, and distinguished himself as an ele gant scholar as well as a great patron of learning. We can not have a better proof that it is possible for the professions of lite rature and arms to be combined and cultivated at the same time with equal success, than is to be found in the fact that during the three years in which he was Lord President of Munster, and incessantly engaged in conflicts with the rebellious Irish, and with the Spanish army which was overrunning the province, he contrived to find, or rather make, time for writing an account of all the events of the war. Thus, like the great Marquis of Montrose, Sir George Carew had that in him which would have enabled him to make the lady of his love not only "glorious through his sword, but famous by his pen." To his commanding talents he also added quali ties which shed such a beautiful and peculiar lustre over greatness-simplicity of mind, grace and dignity of manner, and modesty unfeigned.

There were other Carews in Devon not less illustrious than the Earl of Totness; amongst them Mr. Thomas Carew, whose history is too romantic to be entirely passed over in our talk about Devon worthies. When a quite young man he fell in love with his brother's ward, the daughter of Sir Philip Courtenay, she being a great fortune, and, carrying her away secretly, he married her, to the great displeasure of his brother and the young lady's grandfather. So, to appease them, the bridegroom determined to absent himself for a time, and went to the wars, in which he soon found an opportunity of distinguishing himself, at the Battle of Floddenfield,

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after the following wise. Before the battle began a brave Scottish knight sent a challenge to an English gentleman to come out and fight with him for the honor of his country last sparks these of the dying flame of chivalry, so soon to be utterly extinguished. Thereupon, Mr. Carew begged permission of the Lord Admiral Howard, then commanding the king's army (in those days men often filled double offices with honor to themselves and their country), to answer the challenge. His request being granted, Mr. Carew met his adversary in open field, and overcame him, "to his high commendation and great endearment with the Lord Admiral ever after," which affection was greatly increased, as well it might be, by a service which Mr. Carew was enabled to render his general soon after. But we will read the account of it in the words of his biographer:

The enemy coming on to this narrow passage, Mr. Carew, in his rich habit, well mounted, crossed the bridge with his horse, and for a time so valiantly defended the same that no man could pass; that way gaining time, the numbers between them being very unequal, for the Lord Admiral's escape. However, Mr. Carew was at last taken prisoner, to the no little joy of the enemy, who thought they had taken the general himself, as indeed by the richness of his armor they had reason to imagine. But in fine, finding themselves deceived, they courteously carried him to the Castle of Dunbar, lying twenty Scotch miles to the east of Edinbro', in Scotland, where he was courteously entertained by the lady thereof, who, having a brother then a prisoner in England, hoped by the advantage of an exchange to have him delivered to her again.

The lady there was always affable and courte ous to her prisoner, but the keeper of the castle was of a malicious and churlish nature and dealt most cruelly with him. As an instance of which, as Mr. Carew was sitting by the fireside in his chamber, he came suddenly upon him with his sword drawn, and an intention to murder him, which he, timely perceiving, took up the chair whereupon he sat to defend himself, which, using his best skill to defend his life, he managed so well that he gave his keeper a deadly wound; whereupon, more help called in, he was presently cast into a deep dungeon, and kept there in such a

cruel manner that he fell dangerously sick. However at last he was redeemed and so returned to

his manor at Bicklegh, after which the Lord Admiral never forgot the noble services Mr. Carew did him, but ever entertained him with all courtesy and friendship, made him his vice-admiral (!!), and assisted him in all his affairs.

Truly romantic passages were these in the eventful life of Mr. Carew; beautiful are these traits of generous, prompt, and brave self-sacrifice! Greater love can no man show for his friends than to lay down his life for them, and this Mr. Carew was ready and eager to do for his gallant chiefhe who had so lately left his girl-bride that he might prove to her relatives and his own how worthy he had been to win. her whom in that passage of the bridge he could have scarcely dared to hope he should ever see again, yet for whose sake, and for the sake of that which was dearer to him still, he was ready to give up all, if so be that he might leave an honored name behind him. She too, in the lonely moated house where she passed the early days of her widowed wifehood, how sadly must the time have passed with her during the dreary months of her husband's captivity; yet doubtless her heart would at times exult, and her eyes fill with proud tears, remembering the cause for which he was suffering. And when from the highest turret of Bicklegh she looked forth and beheld him returning to his nobly won wife and his long-left home, how would all her cares and anxieties-the weary watching days and sleepless nights, now gone by for ever, be forgotten in the bliss of that moment-bliss so great that at first it would seem well-nigh akin to anguish.

We have wandered far from home, but ere we return we will once more visit the neighborhood of Totness, for the purpose of taking a look at Dartington, and lingering awhile in the great Hall-the only part still remaining of the ancient mansion which has seen so many generations pass in and out of its portals. A right stately Hall it is, with its lofty roof and its long row of noble Gothic windows, overlooking a wide extent of hill and valley, and the tortuous windings of the silver Dart, one of the loveliest of Devonshire rivers. Within these mantled old walls, all now with ivy, their only tapestry, the christening feast in honor of the infant Lord John Holland was celebrated some 450 years ago. A princely christening