We see also the tenderness that a wedding-ring can inspire in the instance of Louis IX. of France, who in his youth was married to Marguerite of Provence, the victim of a cruel jealousy on the part of Blanche of Castile, the King’s mother. The young Prince, who loved his wife dearly, constantly wore a ring ornamented with a garland of lilies and daisies, in allusion to his spouse and himself. A magnificent sapphire bore the image of a crucifix, and the inscription ‘hors cet annel pourrions nous trouver amour.’ In the German ballad of ‘The Noble Moringer,’ translated by Sir Walter Scott, the hero, after some years’ absence on a pilgrimage, returns disguised as a palmer to his castle, on the eve of his wife’s nuptials with another knight. The lady ------Bade her gallant cup-bearer a golden beaker take, And bear it to the palmer poor to quaff it for her sake. It was the noble Moringer, that dropp’d amid the wine A bridal-ring of burning gold, so costly and so fine. Now listen, gentles, to my song, it tells you but the sooth, ’Twas with that very ring of gold he pledged his bridal troth. Then to the cup-bearer he said, ‘Do me one kindly deed, And, should my better days return, full rich shall be thy meed. Bear back the golden cup again to yonder bride so gay, And crave her of her courtesy to pledge the palmer grey.’ The cup-bearer was courtly bred, nor was the boon denied, The golden cup he took again, and bore it to the bride. ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘your reverend guest sends this and bids me pray That, in thy noble courtesy, thou pledge the palmer grey.’ The ring hath caught the lady’s eye, she views it close and near, Then might you hear her shriek aloud, ‘The Moringer is here!’ Then might you see her start from seat, while tears in torrents fell, But whether ’twas for joy or woe, the ladies best can tell. The veneration for a wedding-ring is shown in the instance of the great lexicographer, Dr. Samuel Johnson. He writes, under date March 28, 1753: ‘I kept this day as the anniversary of my Letty’s death, with prayers and tears in the morning. In the evening I prayed for her conditionally, if it was lawful.’ Her wedding-ring was preserved by him, as long as he lived, with an affectionate care, in a little round wooden box, and in the inside of which was a slip of paper inscribed: ‘Eheu! Eliz. Johnson, nupta Jul. 9, 1736; mortua, eheu! Mart. 17, 1752.’ According to the ‘London Press,’ Mr. John Lomax, bookseller, of Lichfield, who died lately at the age of eighty-nine, possessed, among many other Johnsonian relics, this wedding-ring of Mrs. Johnson.