evident appreciation of both these attractions. Tom Killigrew's popularity with the King increased daily, and there was a report that his Majesty intended to revive the disused office of Court Jester in the person of his favourite. We believe such an officer had been attached to his father's household, but the post could only have been nominal. An old writer thus describes the duties of a Court Jester, 'A witty and jocose person kept by princes, to inform them of their faults, and those of other people.' We scarcely give Charles the Second credit for such a motive in his election. Pepys alludes to the circumstance in these words, 'Tom Killigrew has a fee out of the Wardrobe for Cap and Bells as King's Jester, and may tease and rule anybody, the greatest person, without offence, in privilege of his place.' Of this privilege Tom took advantage, sometimes in a good cause, for with all their faults and failings, both he and his kindred spirit, Nell Gwynne, regretted the bad odour into which Charles had fallen through his neglect of public affairs, and Nell often admonished her royal lover on the subject. One day the two friends hatched a small plot. Says Nelly, 'I have been just listening to the complaints of one of the Court Lords, of Charles's neglect of all duty, and how that he has quite forgotten the existence of such a thing as a Cabinet Council, upon which I bet his Lordship £100 that the King should attend the very next. He sneered, but accepted the wager.' Now we do not know if Nelly promised her accomplice to go halves, but we do know that that evening, when the King was in Madam Gwynne's apartments, the door flew open, and in burst Tom, disguised as a pilgrim. The King swore at him, and asked if he had not heard the royal command that he should not be disturbed. 'Oh yes, sire,' was the reply, 'but I was obliged to come and take leave of your Majesty before my departure.'
'Why, where the are you going, and what does this absurd masquerading mean?'
