their liberty with the soldiers who had taken
them.

Perkin Warbeck, doomed to wander up
and down, and never to find rest anywhere—
a sad fate: almost a sufficient punishment for
an imposture, which he seems in time to have
half believed himself—lost his Scottish refuge
through a truce being made between the
two Kings; and found himself, once more,
without a country before him in which he
could lay his head. But James—always
honorable and true to him, alike when he
melted down his plate, and even the great gold
chain he had been used to wear, to pay
soldiers in his cause; and now, when that
cause was lost and hopeless—did not conclude
the treaty, until he had safely departed
out of the Scottish dominions. He and his
beautiful wife—who was faithful to him
under all reverses, and left her state and
home to follow his poor fortunes—were put
aboard ship with everything necessary for
their comfort and protection, and sailed for
Ireland.

But, the Irish people had had enough of
counterfeit Earls of Warwick and Dukes of
York, for one while; and would give the
White Rose no aid. So, the White Rose—
encircled by thorns indeed—resolved to go
with his beautiful wife to Cornwall as a forlorn
resource, and see what might be made of the
Cornish men, who had risen so valiantly a
little while before, and had fought so bravely
at Deptford Bridge.

To Whitsand Bay, in Cornwall, accordingly,
came Perkin Warbeck and his wife; and the
lovely lady he shut up for safety in the Castle
of St. Michael's Mount, and then marched into
Devonshire at the head of three thousand
Cornish men. These were increased to six
thousand by the time of his arrival in Exeter;
but, there the people made a stout resistance,
and he went on to Taunton, where he came
in sight of the King's army. The stout
Cornish men, although they were few in
number, and badly armed, were so bold, that
they never thought of retreating, but bravely
looked forward to a battle on the morrow.
Unhappily for them, the man who was possessed
of so many engaging qualities, and
who attracted so many people to his side
when he had nothing else with which to
tempt them, was not as brave as they. In
the night, when the two armies lay opposite
to each other, he mounted a swift horse and
fled. When morning dawned, the poor confiding
Cornish men, discovering that they had
no leader, surrendered to the King's power.
Some of them were hanged, and the rest
were pardoned, and went miserably home.

Before the King pursued Perkin Warbeck
to the sanctuary of Beaulieu in the New
Forest, where it was soon known that he had
taken refuge, he sent a body of horsemen to
Saint Michael's Mount, to seize his wife.
She was soon taken and brought as a captive
before the King. But she was so beautiful,
and so good, and so devoted to the man in
whom she believed, that the King regarded
her with compassion, treated her with great
respect, and placed her at Court, near the
Queen's person. And many years after Perkin
Warbeck was no more, and when his strange
story had become like a nursery tale, she was
called the White Rose, by the people, in
remembrance of her beauty.

The sanctuary at Beaulieu was soon surrounded
by the King's men; and the King,
pursuing his usual dark artful ways, sent
pretended friends to Perkin Warbeck to persuade
him to come out and surrender himself.
This he soon did; the King having taken
a good look at the man of whom he had
heard so much—from behind a screen—
directed him to be well mounted, and to ride
behind him at a little distance, guarded, but
not bound in any way. So they entered
London with the King's favorite show—a
procession; and some of the people hooted as
the Pretender rode slowly through the streets
to the Tower; but the greater part were
quiet, and very curious to see him. From the
Tower, he was taken to the Palace at Westminster,
and there lodged like a gentleman,
though closely watched. He was examined
every now and then as to his imposture;
but the King was so secret in all he did, that
even then, he gave it a consequence, which
it cannot be supposed to have in itself
deserved.

At last Perkin Warbeck ran away, and
took refuge in another sanctuary near Richmond
in Surrey. From this .he was again
persuaded to deliver himself up; and being
conveyed to London, he stood in the stocks
for a whole day, outside Westminster Hall,
and there read a paper purporting to be his
full confession, and relating his history as the
King's agents had originally described it. He
was then shut up in the Tower again, in the
company of the Earl of Warwick, who had
now been there for fourteen years: ever since
his removal out of Yorkshire, except when
the King had had him at Court, and had
shown him to the people, to prove the imposture
of the Baker's boy. It is but too
probable, when we consider the crafty character
of Henry the Seventh, that these two
were brought together for a cruel purpose.
A plot was soon discovered between them
and the keepers, to murder the Governor,
get possession of the keys, and proclaim
Perkin Warbeck as King Richard the Fourth.
That there was some such plot, is likely;
that they were tempted into it, is at least
as likely; that the unfortunate Earl of
Warwick—last male of the Plautagenet line—
was too unused to the world, and too ignorant
and simple to know much about it, whatever
it was, is perfectly certain; and that it was
the King's interest to get rid of him, is no
less so. He was beheaded on Tower Hill,
and Perkin Warbeck was hanged at Tyburn.

Such was the end of the pretended Duke of