disallowed her suit-in consequence of which she separated from him, and returned to Lancashire. "If," said she, "my lord will not let me have my will of my husband's enemies, yet shall my body be buried by him."

According to some accounts, Sir Piers Legh, being an ecclesiastic, and, therefore, not so easily brought to a severer punishment, was condemned to build Disley Church, as a penance for the share he had in this transaction. This task he performed in 1527.*

In the Bewsey chapel at Warrington church is a splendidly decorated tomb of Sir Thomas Boteler and his lady, enclosed within railings. Their recumbent effigies, hand-in-hand, are placed upon an altar tomb; he in armour, she in a remarkable mitre-shaped cap, surrounded by various sculptured saints, but there is no inscription. Under an arch in the wall, near this monument, was formerly the figure of the faithful black servant noticed in the legend.

The family of Boteler is now extinct, and the Bewsey estate has descended, through female heirs, successively to the families of Ireland,

* Disley Church, near Stockport, in Cheshire, is still in the patronage of the Legh family, and now vests in Thomas Legh, Esq., of Lyme.

Atherton, and Powys, and is now enjoyed by Thomas Atherton Powys, third Lord Lilford.

Bewsey Hall, the scene of the tragedy, is still to be seen about a mile north-west of Warrington. It is an irregular fabric, built principally of brick. The moat also remains, and is in tolerable preservation.

QUEEN ELIZABETH'S TALISMAN.

THE story that we are about to narrate, being not only founded on fact, but closely confined to it, will, of necessity, be brief; yet, brief as it is, it will require a somewhat long preamble to make it perfectly comprehended. In the language of the field, we must try back, and take a view of matters long anterior to the actual commencement of our tale.

Sir John Perrot derived his name and estate from an ancient and illustrious family in Pembrokeshire. Popular report, however, gave him a much higher origin, and would fain have planted the bend sinister in his arms, making him to have been a natural son of Henry the Eighth "If," says Naunton, "we compare his picture, his qualities, his gesture, and voyce with that of the king, whose memory yet remains amongst us, they

will plead strongly that he was a surreptitious scion of the blood royal."

He was unusually tall, and of immense bodily strength, his eyes quick and piercing, his hair auburn, or, as his biographer styles it in his oldfashioned language, alborne. He was of an undaunted spirit, skilful in military matters, and of a sound judgment, though he could not pretend to much learning. Moreover, he had a wonderful proneness to choler, and when in choler would swear as fearfully as my uncle Toby's troops in Flanders. When he was only eighteen years old, which was about the thirty-sixth year of Henry the Eighth's reign, he was sent up to London to the house of the Marquess of Winchester, then Lord Treasurer of England. Here he found two other young men, the Earl of Oxford and the Lord Abergavenny, it being the custom of those times for well-born youths to be brought up in the families of noblemen. The Earl chanced to be effeminate; the Lord, on the contrary, was of so fierce and quarrelsome a temper, that the household dreaded him, and welcomed the advent of the stranger from Pembrokeshire, as one who was likely to tame him. "Is there such a one?" said he, "let me see him." And being introduced to young Perrot, he exclaimed, "what, Sir! are you the kill-cow that must match me."-" No,”

replied the other, "I am no butcher, but if you use me not the better, you shall find I can give a butcher's blow." A combat was the immediate result, when the turbulent Lord got himself well drubbed, not only into civility but into friendship. The league, however, did not last long between these fiery spirits. Upon one occasion they determined to give a banquet to their friends, but falling into some dispute, and thence to blows, they broke the glasses about one another's ears, so that by the time the guests arrived, not a goblet was left, and the floor was running with blood instead of claret.

His next adventure, though it began ominously enough, promised well for his future fortunes. He had gone to Southwark-every reader of our old plays knows the ill-repute of the city suburbs in those days-accompanied by a page, when he was set upon by two yeomen of the crown, against whom he defended himself with much courage. This story coming to King Henry's ears, he was so much delighted with his bravery and personal appearance, that he promised him a speedy advancement. This intention was frustrated by the Monarch's death, which happened soon after.

Becoming a great favourite with Edward the Sixth, he was made a Knight of the Bath at his coronation. In 1551 he accompanied the Marquess