ONE fine summer's morning, in the year of grace 1742, the little inn of the little town of Marblehead was in a state of great bustle, in anticipation of the visit of some Government officials from Boston to dine there. The landlady, rather vixenish in temper and tongue, was busily occupied in attending to the culinary department, and at intervals scolding a young girl of sixteen, who was scrubbing the floor, and was the maid-of-all-work in the establishment, working from early in the morning till late at night for a small pittance of wages.

Marblehead was a small fishing town or village about sixteen miles from Boston, in New England, consisting of a cluster of log-built and straw-thatched houses, amongst which stood conspicuously forth the little hostelry, in consequence of its sign of King George the Second's head swinging and creaking from a crossbeam over the highway. The inhabitants were almost entirely of Guernsey descent, a brave people, but not so loyal as the sign of their inn would seem to indicate, as after the war of the Revolution there were in the town 600 widows of patriots who had fallen; and, in the war of 1812, 500 Marblehead men were prisoners of war in England. The washing of the floor was not completed when the sound of horses' feet was heard coming along the road, and in a few minutes three gentlemen alighted at the door, gave their horses in charge of an extemporised ostler, and entered the house. The landlady made a profound curtsy to her guests, and at the same time rated her hand-maiden for not having the room ready for the gentlemen. "Don't scold her," said he who appeared to be the chief of the group; "I dare say the little lassie has done her best, and perhaps we have arrived earlier than we were expected." The girl, who was dressed in homely attire, and without shoes or stockings, turned her head with a silent glance of thanks to the speaker—a glance which he pronounced to himself to be angelic.

The gentleman who thus came upon the scene was a Mr. Charles Henry Frankland, thirty-six years of age, and slightly bronzed in feature from his early residence in Bengal, where he was born. He was the eldest son of the Governor of Bengal, Henry Frankland, who had been brother and heir-presumptive of Sir Thomas Frankland, third baronet of Thirkleby, in Yorkshire, but he had died in 1736, leaving this son heir-presumptive to the baronetcy in his place. In 1741 he had been appointed Collector of the Customs at the port of Boston, and on this summer's morning, with two subordinates was paying a professional visit to Marblehead, which lay within the Boston collection. The more he saw of the girl, as she waited at table during dinner, the more was he struck with the beauty of her features and the faultless symmetry of her figure. As was said of her, "Her ringlets were black and glossy as the raven; her dark eyes beamed with light and loveliness, and her voice was musical and bird-like." He entered into conversation with her, and found that her name was Agnes Surriage, and that her parents, of a humble position in life, dwelt at a neighbouring village. He was charmed with the modest and intelligent replies she made to his questions, but found that she was altogether uneducated, and had learnt nothing excepting how to perform household work, to sew and knit, and "to go to meeting on Sundays." On leaving, he gave her money to buy herself shoes and stockings; but on his next visit he found her again bare-legged, and asking her why she had not supplied herself with shoes and stockings, she replied that she had done so, but kept them to go to "meeting" in.

Becoming more and more fascinated with her beauty, he at length asked her parents to allow him to take her to Boston and have her educated, to which they consented, after some hesitation. He caused her to be instructed in reading, writing, drawing, music, dancing, and all the accomplishments of a fine lady; but although she excelled eventually in sketching, playing, and dancing, and wrote a beautiful hand, she could never master the difficulties of orthography, her spelling to the last being always of an original and curiously eccentric character.

When her education was completed, and she had grown to womanhood, he took her to his home as his mistress, and she bore him a son, who was christened Richard Cromwell. She was, however, looked upon askance by the Quaker circles of Boston, not on account of her lowly birth, but because of her disreputable connection with her "protector." Sir Thomas Frankland, third baronet, died without male issue, in 1747, and Charles Henry, his nephew, succeeded as fourth baronet. Seven years after, he returned to England, with Agnes and his son, to dispute the will of the late baronet as to the disposition of the family estates at Thirkleby, near Easingwold. Sir Thomas made three wills; the first in 1741, wherein he left a slender provision for his widow, leaving the estates to his heir-male. In the second, made in 1744, he left Thirkleby to his widow for life, to pass at her death to the then holder of the baronetcy; and by the third will, dated 1746, he left her the estates, producing £2,500 per annum, and the whole of his personalty absolutely, and to dispose of as she chose. It was contended that the last will was made when he was in an unsound state of mind and under undue influence, and a lawsuit ensued, resulting in the setting aside of the third and the confirmation of the second will. The lawsuit gained, Sir Charles and Agnes went for a tour on the Continent, and in the month of November, 1755, were sojourning in the city of Lisbon. On the 1st of that month, the sun rose, shining with almost unusual brightness, and the streets were filled with people going hither and thither on matters of religion, business, and pleasure, little dreaming of, and with nothing to indicate, the catastrophe which was to befall their city. The Franklands had breakfasted at their hotel, and Sir Charles, donning a Court suit, started off in a carriage with a lady to witness the celebration of High Mass in the Cathedral, leaving Agnes at the hotel. They had not proceeded far, and were passing in front of a lofty building, when, without warning, the terrible earthquake occurred, which in eight minutes laid the city in ruins, and swallowed up 50,000 of its inhabitants. The lofty building came crashing down, and buried the carriage and its occupants. What became of the lady is not known, but the horses were killed, and Sir Charles lay bruised and wounded beneath the ruins for an hour. In full expectation of death, he reflected on his past life, and, concluding that he was undergoing a judgment of God for his misdeeds, and especially for having lived in a state of concubinage, made a vow that if he should be rescued, he would show his repentance by marrying the partner of his guilt. Agnes had escaped unhurt, and when the first shock had passed, fearful that some mischance had befallen him, rushed out in the direction of the cathedral, regardless of the still falling houses, in search of him. As she was clambering over a heap of ruins, she heard moans issuing from beneath, and a voice which she recognised as that of her beloved one. She immediately got together a party of diggers, and, by promises of high rewards, succeeded in extricating him, and after his wounds had been dressed, conveyed him to Belem, where, in process of time, he recovered, and where their marriage was celebrated.

Sir Charles returned to Boston; but in 1757 he was appointed Consul-General to Portugal, and again came to Lisbon. In 1763 he resumed his duties at Boston, retaining his consulship, although absent, until 1767, when he returned to England, and died the following year, being succeeded in the baronetcy by his brother Thomas.

Lady Frankland returned to New England with her son, and they resided upon an estate at Hopkinson which she had inherited through her parents, but at the outbreak of the Revolutionary war in 1775, she, being a Royalist, came to England, and, in 1782, married Mr. John Drew, a banker at Chichester, and died in 1783.

Richard Cromwell, her son, entered the naval service of England, but retired on his ship being ordered to America, as he felt unwilling to fight against his native land. In 1796 he was living in Chichester with a family growing up around him.

In 1865 there was published at Albany, "Sir Charles Henry Frankland, Bart.; or, Boston in the Colonial Times; by Elias Nason, m.a.," who, in the preface, says—"Who was Sir C. H. Frankland? is a question which a brief story entitled 'A legend of New England,' and published by William Lincoln, in 1843, and still more recently the ballad of 'Agnes,' by Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes here, led the public to entertain: Was he a real person or a myth? Was there ever such a collector of the port of Boston? Was he indeed buried under the ruins of Lisbon at the time of the great earthquake? Was he rescued therefrom by the efforts of a poor girl, named Agnes Surriage, and did he afterwards make her his wife?" These questions the author answers in the subsequent pages of the pamphlet, of which the above is an epitome.