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Cromwell's young kinsman, Colonel Richard Ingoldsby, who, though a member of the Court, had attended none of its meetings till precisely that of the 29th, the date of the Warrant. Here comes in Clarendon's famous story, a distortion of some convenient rigmarole of Ingoldsby's own in later times.

One Petition, however, heard of in London Oct. 30, was from Colonel Ingoldsby's regiment, then in garrison at Oxford.

From the long, narrow stone-paved Armory Court, and connecting it with the inner Buttery Court, ran a narrow arched passage-way, in which was a picket-gate, closed at night and locked from within. It was in this arched passage-way that, according to little Robert Ingoldsby's report, the bachelors were lying in wait for Myles.

Tom felicitated himself and his partner of the watch on the result of their vigilance; but there is a rustic adage, which warns us against self-gratulation before we are quite "out of the wood." Seaforth was yet within its verge. A rap at Tom Ingoldsby's door the following morning startled him as he was shaving he cut his chin.

On May 29, 1660, Charles II. was restored to the throne, and little mercy could be expected from him by those who had signed his father's death-warrant. Some of Colonel Hutchinson's friends urged him to follow Ingoldsby's example, and declare that Cromwell had held his hand and compelled him to sign it, but he rejected this advice with the greatest indignation.

The carnage began within the church at an early hour; and, when it was completed, the bloodhounds tracked their prey into the vaults beneath the pavement. Among the men who thus descended into these subterranean recesses, was Thomas Wood, at that time a subaltern, afterwards a captain in Ingoldsby's regiment.

Ingoldsby's; but I may be permitted to have an opinion of my own, I hope: and in my opinion it is a frightful blue, and shockingly unbecoming. And at all events I like green infinitely better than blue; and I beseech you, Miss Turnbull, not to wear this hideous riband." "I am sure I don't pretend to set my taste in competition with Mrs.

Ingoldsby told me yesterday, that she never saw so beautiful a blue." "Mrs. Ingoldsby's taste is not infallible, I imagine," said Mrs. Vickars, with a contemptuous smile. "It may not be infallible," replied our heroine, "but it is at least as much to be relied upon as other people's." "I am sure I do not pretend to compare my taste to Mrs.

The subject was what the lawyers call tripartite, embracing the information that Charles Seaforth was over head and ears in love with Tom Ingoldsby's sister; secondly, that the lady had referred him to "papa" for his sanction; thirdly, and lastly, his nightly visitations and consequent bereavement. At the two first times Tom smiled suspiciously at the last he burst out into an absolute "guffaw."

Remember, I've only been over a little bit of the hillside yet what you could ride round easily on your ponies in an hour. I'm only just come down into the Vale, by Blowing Stone Hill; and if I once begin about the Vale, what's to stop me? Did you ever read Thomas Ingoldsby's "Legend of Hamilton Tighe"? If you haven't, you ought to have.