proved an effectual shield. They then fled
to that

          Land of exiled liberty,

New England, where they dwelt and
prospered. It is pleasant to find that, on the
return of better times, they returned to
England, took the old shop in Gracechurch-
street, and, in the words of the old story-
books, lived happy ever after.

Such testifyings did not suit John Dunton;
he seems to have gone prosperously on;
and, as he was now a well-to-do young
tradesman, "my friends began to persecute
me about matrimony. Old Mrs. Seaton"
(we suppose the fair Rachael was disposed of),
"first sets upon me, and recommends one
Sarah Day of Ratcliffe; she was pretty, well
bred, her fortune was considerable, and she
was the best-natured creature in the world."
Here were attractions enough; but another
kind friend, who seems to have had a sharp
eye to the shop, suggested, "there is Sarah
Doolittle, a better wife for you by ten
degrees, and then you will have her father's
copyrights for nothing." This bribe of the
father's copyrights is, we think, unrivalled in
the annals of wife-hunting. While John
was deliberating between the two Sarahs, we
are happy to find that Sam Crook won
Sarah Doolittle—caring probably more for
the lady than her father's manuscripts.
Another proposal was made of a third Sarah,
one Miss Briscoe of Uxbridge, who was both
handsome and rich; but while John was
deliberating he strolled into Dr. Annesley's
meeting in St. Helen's one Sunday morning,
and there he soon singled out a young lady,
that almost "charmed me dead."

He forthwith made inquiries about this
charmer, when he found that she was one of the
preacher's daughters, but pre-engaged. A very
matter-of-fact friend, however, who seems to
have thought that if one would not do another
might, recommended him to look out a lady-
love from among the doctor's other daughters,
—he had almost a round dozen—and
this hint John acted upon, and in Miss Elizabeth,
an elder sister, he found one who, he tells
us made a deeper impression upon him than
any before.

Hitherto, our young bookseller seems to
have been only playing at courtship, but
now it was a matter of sober earnest, so
with "Mr. Isaac Brindly and Mr. Marryat
to second my proposal, I went to the
doctor's." The old gentleman received the
offer courteously, and after having sent to
Mr. Parkhurst, who spoke well of his late
apprentice, "gave full consent, if I could
prevail with her." The fair lady did not prove
unkind; so they began to correspond in
lover-like style: not as plain John and
Elizabeth, but as Philaret and Iris! How
widely the taste for high-flown language
and exaggerated notions, doubtless borrowed
from the French romances, must have spread,
we may imagine, when we find a London
bookseller, and the daughter of a Nonconformist
minister, christening themselves by
such fanciful names, and calling their friends,
Arsinda, Lindamira, and Philomela?
Philaret writing to his "fair conqueror" at
Tunbridge Wells, tells her that "her absence
is intolerable!" To which Iris replies
that "all courtships must have a little knight-
errantry in them, otherwise the lover is
reckoned to be somewhat dull." Who shall
say that the age of chivalry was over then.

With great glee John Dunton took a
large shop at the corner of Princes-street,
and its sign was the Black Raven; and from
thence, on August the third, one thousand
six hundred and eighty-two, he proceeded to
Allhallows-on-the-Wall, being well attended
thither, to be married. He tells us his
father-in-law, on their return, preached
a sermon on the occasion, which was
succeeded by a handsome dinner, at which there
was a large party. "As soon as dinner was
ended, an ingenious gentleman called myself
and bride out from the company, and
presented an epithalamium." This is duly
printed, and as it is all about Golden
Hymen, and little Cupids, and sister Graces,
we doubt not was very acceptable to Iris
and Philaret. Dunton describes the wedding-
ring as having two hearts united upon it, and
the posy was,

          God saw thee
          Most fit for me.

A distich worthy of Settle himself. Pen-
and-ink portraits of the bride and bridegroom
followed, the lady's written by a female friend,
and his by her sister. We are told that Iris
"is tall, with light chesnut hair, dark eyes,
little mouth, white hands, and complexion,
very fair;" while Philaret "has eyes black
and full of spirit, and countenance rendered
amiable by a cheerful and sprightly air."
This pen portrait would appear to be rather
flattering; for his real portrait, prefixed to
the book, represents him as a heavy-looking
man.

"Being established now, my dear Iris became
bookseller, cash-keeper, managed all my
affairs for me, and left me to my own rambling
humour." This was, unfortunately, the
worst thing that could befal so unsteady a
tradesman as Philaret; he seems to have
attended but little to his business, and it
probably (for he has not expressly told us),
partly failed, since "on the defeat of
Monmouth, having at that time five hundred
pounds owing me in New England, I thought
I would go there."

Perhaps John had become involved, as
many other London tradesmen had, in that
ill-starred rising, and found it prudent to go
away for a time. His father-in-law, who had
lately been prosecuted, approved of his going,
and "dear Iris" willingly, though sorrowfully
acquiesced; at Gravesend he met a brother