natural and dear daughterly affection towards him, gave her his fatherly blessing, and many godly words of comfort besides. From whom after she was departed, she not satisfied with the former sight of her dear father, and like one that had forgotten herself, being all ravished with the entire love of her dear father, having respect neither to herself, nor to the press of people and multitude that were there about him, suddenly turned back again, ran to him as before, took him about the neck, and divers times kissed him most lovingly; and at last, with a full and heavy heart, was fain to depart from him; the beholding whereof was to many of them that were present thereat, so lamentable, that it made them for very sorrow thereof to weep and mourn."

From the notion that more would be gained by his recantation than his death, fresh attempts were made to bend his resolution; and, these failing, a warrant was issued for his execution, all parts of the frightful sentence, as to the manner of it, being remitted, except beheading, out of the great mercy of the king. "May none of my friends experience the like mercies," said he.

The day before he was to suffer, he wrote a farewell letter to his dear Margaret, containing blessings to all his children by name, with a kind remembrance to one of her maids. Adverting to their last interview, at which the ceremonial which then regulated domestic intercourse had been so little observed, he says, "I never liked your manner towards me better than when you kissed me last, for I am most pleased when daughterly love and dear charity have no leisure to look to worldly courtesy." Early the next day, being Tuesday, the 6th of July, 1535, came to him his "singular good friend," Sir Thomas Pope, with a message from the king and council that he should die before nine o'clock of the same morning. More having returned thanks for these "good tidings," Pope added, "the king's pleasure further is, that you use not many

words at your execution." "I did purpose," answered More, "to have spoken somewhat, but I will conform myself to the king's commandment; and I beseech you to obtain from him that my daughter Margaret may be present at my burial." "The king is already content that your wife, children, and friends shall have liberty to be present thereat." Pope now taking leave wept bitterly; but More said to him, " Quiet yourself, Mr. Pope, and be not discouraged; for I trust we shall yet see each other full merrily, where we shall be sure to live and love together in eternal bliss."

Being led by Sir William Kingston to the scaffold, it seemed weak, and he had some difficulty in mounting it. Whereupon he said merrily, "Master Lieutenant, I pray you see me safe up, and for my coming down let me shift for myself."

Having knelt, and pronounced the "Miserere" with great devotion, he addressed the executioner, to whom he gave an angel of gold, saying, "Pluck up thy spirit, man, and be not afraid to do thy office: my neck is very short; take heed, therefore, that thou strike not awry, for saving thy honesty." When his head was laid on the block, he stayed the executioner for a moment, while he moved away his beard, saying, "This beard hath committed no treason." end to his sufferings, and his pleasantries. these last, Wordsworth has beautifully said,

"Lightly his bosom's lord did sit

One blow put an With reference to

Upon its throne, unsoftened, undismayed
By aught that mingled with the tragic scene
Of pity and fear; and his gay genius played
With the inoffensive sword of native wit,

Than the bare axe more luminous and keen."

More's body being given to his family for interment, to strike terror into the multitude, his head stuck on a pole was

placed on London-bridge, but the affectionate and courageous Margaret procured it to be taken down, preserved it as a precious relic during her life, and, at her death, ordered it to be laid with her in the same grave. It still exists in the church of St. Dunstan's, at Canterbury, in which parish her husband lived.

So lived, so died, Sir Thomas More. His career was illustrated by almost every virtue that makes a man worthy of our respect or our love. He was humane, he was affectionate, he was tender, he was modest, he was wise, he was pious, he was brave. He was the wittiest man of his time. He was the wisest man of his time. In an age of disgraceful moral cowardice he displayed the most noble bravery-that noble bravery which is at all times so rare a quality-the bravery which leads a man to say the truth, and to do the truth, in spite of all the vexations, and even calamities, that it may bring upon him, because it is his duty in the sight of God. This is a virtue of which we all have more daily need than we are perhaps aware. True, that we are not likely to be beheaded for denying the Queen's supremacy; but no man can go through life with an unflinching resolve to say what he believes to be true, and act upon it, without having to endure a hundred petty martyrdoms. When we feel inclined to shrink from "what people will say," we may invigorate our courage by recalling the life and death of SIR THOMAS MORE.

The Fall of Mexico.

A LECTURE

BY THE

REV. J. H. GURNEY, M.A.,

RECTOR OF ST. MARY'S, MARYLEBONE,

AUTHOR OF "HISTORICAL SKETCHES," "ST. LOUIS AND HENRY IV.," &c.