round the town and watch the gallant army of the soldiers as they were marshalled for some holiday pageant, filling the air with shouts. They could hear the music which seemed to mock their misery, and watch with longing eyes the troops at the camp fire cooking their rations and singing songs of home.

Stealthily creeping through the streets, unseen, unheard, smiting one here and another there, was the famine. The shops were closed, night and day the prayers of the people rose up to heaven, and every day there were wild reports of demons lurking in the air, breaking the stillness of

the night with shrieks and laughter. They turned for consolation to the Book of Comfort, but again, and as though drawn to it by a spell, they read of the famine in Samaria-"and behold they besieged it until an ass's head was sold for four score pieces of silver, and the fourth part of a cab of dove's dung for five pieces of silver. And as the king of Israel was passing by upon the wall there cried a woman unto him saying, help, my Lord, O king. And he said, if the Lord do not help thee, whence shall I help thee, out of the barnfloor or out of the winepress? And the king said unto her, what aileth thee? And she answered, this woman said unto me, Give thy son, that we may eat him to day, and we will eat my

son to morrow. So we boiled my son and did eat him; and I said unto her on the next day, Give thy son that we may eat him, and she hath hid her son." It was darkly whispered through the town that this horrible thing had been realised at Rochelle. That, maddened by hunger, women had slain their little ones and eaten them. Where was the Elisha to prophecy of sudden plenty? When should Benhadad-Richelieu be driven away, and a day of good tidings rise on Rochelle ?

Famine decimated the besieged, but it did not cast down their courage. They accepted contentedly their scanty rations of shell-fish and grass; they fared well on horse-flesh, but their resources failed. There was not a horse in the town. The sea seemed hardened against them and yielded nothing for their support; every green herb was exhausted. Before this

came to pass, the authorities of the town had found it necessary to station a guard in the graveyard and to punish summarily various attempts to seize on the bodies of the dead for food. Death held a carnival in this beleaguered town. Death, it was seen everywhere-in the quiet market, in the empty houses, in the cold, gloomy smithy, in the deserted wine-shop. It was seen in little groups of agonising sufferers crouching in obscure corners, praying for death speedily; it was seen in the dead bodies that soon began to encumber the streets-dead that the dying were too unhappy, too indifferent to bury. There were some few driven mad by the horrors of the scene, and who added to it by their wild cries and frantic gestures, flying through the streets at night, and seeming to bear charmed lives.

Amid all the terrible realities of the famine there were many instances of heroic self-devotion: for eight days a father kept his child alive by nourishing it with his own blood. Many preferred death to sharing the scanty food they could get with those they loved; and while in their mad fury some blasphemed heaven and polluted earth by their violence at the misery which had come upon them, for the most part they bore it patiently and hoped against hope.

Out of eighty men who were defending a gate, scarcely ten could support themselves without a staff. Of those who laboured in the batteries, scarcely one in five was able to stand erect. The preachers went amongst the people, exhorting them to faith in heaven; and the old Duchess of Rohan, the mother of the two brothers Rohan and Soubise, animated the courage of the unhappy garrison by her heroic words. She also went amongst them, sharing all their privations, enkindling afresh their enthusiasm as she assured them of a speedy deliverance. Guitin, too, gaunt with famine but strong of will, surveyed the heroic defenders of the town with a grim smile-"It is enough," said he, "if one of the citizens remain alive to close the gates."

Deliverance never came. King Charles had solemnly pledged his honour to assist the Rochellois, but he was unable to keep his promise. He despatched the Earl of Denbigh with a fleet; and the Earl, after shewing himself for seven days before the town, retired without striking a blow. He had been raised to rank and title simply on account of marrying the Duke of Buckingham's sister, and was, as a commander, even more incompetent than his brother-in-law. The Duke himself now resolved on returning with the fleet to Rochelle. Popular dissatisfaction

Who rules the King?-
Let the Duke look to it,

against war was running high. His physician, Dr. Lambe, was murdered by a mob in London, and a placard was fixed on the walls in these words:-Who rules the kingdom?-the King. the Duke. Who rules the Duke ?-the Devil. or he will be served as the docter was served." There was a doggrel rhyme also, very popular about this time, and equally threatening in its nature:

Let Charles and George do what they can,

The Duke shall die like Dr. Lambe.

The duke affected to despise these threats, but Charles was alarmed for his safety. He went with him to Deptford to see the ships that were to carry relief to Rochelle, and is reported to have said: "George, there are those who wish that both these and thou may perish; but we will both perish together if thou dost."

Buckingham went down to Portsmouth. On the 23rd of August he was in excellent spirits, even dancing gaily, it is said, as he went to breakfast. "While at breakfast, Soubise, the envoy of the Rochellois, went to him, and was seen in earnest private conversation. It is supposed that Soubise had come to the knowledge of certain recent negociations between England and France, in which both monarchs showed every tendency to listen to an accommodation, though neither had yet ventured to propose it, and knew that it was the object of Buckingham rather to treat than to fight when he got to Rochelle. At that very moment Mr. Secretary Carleton had arrived from the king with instructions to Buckingham to open by some means a communication with Richelieu, and then, as it were, accidentally bring about a treaty. Probably Soubise had acquired hints of these things, for both he and many other Frenchmen about Buckingham appeared greatly discontented, and vociferated and gesticulated energetically. The duke, it is said, had been endeavouring to persuade Soubise that Rochelle was already released, which he was too well informed to credit."

As the duke went out to his carriage, still talking with the gentlemen who surrounded him, an officer whispered something in his ear; he turned, and the next moment a knife was plunged into his heart and there left sticking. The assassin boldly declared himself. He turned out to be a gentleman of birth and education-John Felton by name-who had served under the duke in the expedition to the island of Ré.

Felton was hanged at Tyburn and gibbeted at Portsmouth.

The command of the fleet, fitted out for the relief of Rochelle, was entrusted to the Earl of Lindsay. He was accompanied by Walter