plain in the portrait (a fine engraving after Sir Peter Lely) which adorns the volume. It shows us a refined face that combines the irritability of a scholar with the keenness of a place-hunter; an emaciated face with eyes large, expressive and aggressive, thin lips tightly pressed, and a chin of remarkable pugnacity--the face of a man determined to get on and very angry at Fortune’s slow pace. It is said to resemble Molière’s. The resemblance certainly does not extend to a sense of humour. Perhaps it was this want (for assuredly it was not want of push) that condemned a person of Rycaut’s abilities and attainments to rust in the Consulate of Smyrna, when his intellectual inferiors became Secretaries of State in London. Charles II. had little use for men who could not laugh. Many were the prickly problems that Sir John Finch and Mr. Paul Rycaut had to handle together during the next few years; and on all occasions the Ambassador found a most loyal and respectful lieutenant in this highly accomplished and polished Cavalier. Of quite a different mould was the Rev. John Covel, Chaplain to the Embassy and afterwards Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge. Like Finch and Baines, Covel hailed from Christ’s College. Like them, too, he had studied Medicine in early life, but eventually discovering an easier vocation, he threw physic to the dogs, took holy orders, and got a Fellowship at his College. To him also, as to the others, the Restoration had come as a providential blessing: witness the Latin prose and English verse wherein he vented his feelings. The merits of his Latin performance were such as might have been expected from an erudite young don. Those of his English effusion may be judged by the following sample: The horrible winter’s gone, And we enjoy a cheerful spring; The kind approach of the Sun Gives a new birth to every thing. Among other things, it gave a new birth to the songster’s prospects. In 1670 an adventure beckoned the Rev. John from afar, and his heart leapt to greet it. The Constantinople chaplaincy had fallen vacant by the retirement of the learned Dr. Thomas Smith (known to history as “Rabbi” Smith). There was the romance of the East with its new skies and seas and lands; there were curious old creeds to be investigated, a strange world of Turks, Greeks, Armenians, Jews, Franks, with their various ways of life: by all means let us go! He obtained the appointment from the Levant Company, and from the King a dispensation which enabled him to retain his Fellowship at the same time. Thus, while drawing at Constantinople a handsome salary and considerable perquisites for the little he did, our lucky divine also received from Cambridge, for doing nothing at all, “all and singular the profits, dividends, stipends, emoluments, and dues belonging to his Fellowship in as full and ample manner to all intents and purposes as if he were actually resident in the College.”[63]