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ner was the only one subjected to imprisonment he remained in the Marshalsea till his death, in 1569, indulging in licentious expressions, and gross disorderly conduct. When the pictures were shown to him, in the early editions of Fox's Acts and Monuments, which represented him inflicting tortures upon the Protestants with his own hands, the callous wretch viewed them with a laugh, and asked how the artist could depict him so well? He openly gloried in what he had done. His imprisonment, indeed, was necessary to screen him from popular indignation; but the immediate cause was an intemperate memorial presented to the queen by himself and other bigoted Romanists, condemning the Reformation even as begun by Henry VIII., and stigmatizing the martyrs these prelates condemned to the flames, as malefactors suffering justly the Divine wrath. When the Popish prelates were summoned to declare whether they would obey the laws lately passed, archbishop Heath had the effrontery to tell the queen that she could not desist from the suppression of heresy meaning thereby the persecution of the Protestants-without exposing herself to a curse! Elizabeth at once replied, in the words of Joshua, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord;" and declared her determination, together with that of her parliament, to resist Popery.

The vacant sees were filled up. Parker was appointed archbishop of Canterbury, and others, his associates in taking refuge on the continent, were nominated to various bishoprics. These excellent men exerted themselves to promote the truth: they effected much, though far less than they desired; for the general proceedings of government limited rather than encouraged them.

The queen had suffered much from the principles of Popery, but she showed a desire to retain some of the ornaments, ceremonials, and superstitious observances adopted mostly from heathenism in the early ages of the church, which made way for the grossest errors of Romanism. Among them were the crucifix, and lights burning on the communion-table, which Elizabeth for a time retained in her chapel: the former was a gross superstition_connected with image worship; the latter was of less importance, but it was a practice of ancient pagan worship, and therefore ought to be discarded by all Christians. The bishops feared that these

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things would lead to further abuses; they remonstrated with Elizabeth, who unwillingly consented to their removal. She was afterwards more fully aware of the necessity for showing her departure from Popery; and Nowel, dean of St. Paul's, having caused a prayer-book adorned with pictures of the Virgin and saints to be laid in her seat, as a new year's gift, she openly reproved him in the vestry after service, declaring truly, that such ornaments were hinderances to devotion.

Matters of a secular nature now claim attention. One of the proceedings in parliament was to address the queen, urging her to select a husband, accompanying this request with strong expressions of loyalty and personal regard. The queen replied in courteous terms, but said that she considered herself married to her kingdom, and that at present her desire was to have it inscribed on her tomb, "Here lies a queen who lived and died a virgin."

One of the affairs most pressing was to make peace with France. Philip, finding that he could not rely on support from England, had already done this, but felt his honour concerned to extricate his ally from a war undertaken on ́ his account. The main difficulty was respecting Calais. The French would not relinquish this place, while to give up the claim would annoy the national feelings of the English. A treaty was at last made, by which Calais was to be restored by France in eight years, under heavy pecuniary forfeitures. The English government wisely resolved not to forego the advantages to result from peace to their exhausted kingdom, in the vain endeavour to procure again a place, the possession of which was rather an empty honour than a real benefit, and which increased the feeling of dissatisfaction between the two countries.

In this summer, the first of her reign, we find Elizabeth enjoying the country. For this purpose, she visited her palace, at Nonsuch, in Surrey, and other places. The annexed engraving represents Nonsuch, an edifice erected by Henry VIII. It is from an old picture, which also represents the queen in her chariot, or car.

The state of affairs in Scotland required the especial attention of Elizabeth. Mary Queen of Scots had been affianced to the dauphin, and removed to France when very young. Her marriage was completed in 1557, when she was in

duced secretly to sign a deed, by which she conveyed to the King of France her claims to the throne of England as well as Scotland, in case she died without leaving children. This document has been lately published. Her union with France could only be supported by discouraging the Reformation in Scotland, and persecuting the reformers in that country. At this juncture, Elizabeth succeeded to the throne of England, when an intention directly to interfere with her, was manifested by the assumption of her regal title and arms by Mary and her husband, as already mentioned. They had not been assumed during the preceding reign, therefore it was plain that the insignia were not merely borne as indicating a distant claim to the succession, but being taken immediately upon the death of Mary of England, they evidently were meant to imply that the bearers had a better right than that possessed by Elizabeth. All who acknowledged the papal supremacy necessarily took this view. It is worse than idle to speak of the contest between Mary Stuart and Elizabeth, as many do, assigning the cause to be petty female jealousies.

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alone the designs of France against England could be efficiently promoted.

The French commander caused Leith to be fortified, which excited the public displeasure. The populace destroyed some monastic establishments, while the lords assembled at Stirling, and took measures that the kingdom should not be reduced to a mere province of France, in which the Reformation could be rigidly suppressed.

The lords then called a parliament, which met at Edinburgh, and deposed the regent; but Knox urged that her misconduct should not operate against the allegiance they owed to Mary as their sovereign. They also denounced the French as enemies to their country. Thus hostilities were decidedly begun in Scotland, and it was evident that the result would affect England. If the French were successful, England would be attacked, the pretensions of Mary and Francis to the English throne having been distinctly avowed. Under these circumstances, Elizabeth was obliged to take a part. She assisted the Scottish Protestants with some supplies, but not till the French were on the point of prevailing. At this juncture, the English fleet entered the Firth of Forth, and stopped the advance of the French army. It was plain that Elizabeth had delayed this interposition till the last moment; no desire but that of preserving her own kingdom influenced her. She expressly stipulated with the Scottish lords that they should maintain their allegiance to Mary, only seeking to be freed from French counsellors. There is no doubt that Eli

The English armorial bearings were openly displayed at a festival in Paris, when the king, having engaged in a tilting-match, was mortally wounded by the shivers of a lance, by Montgomery, the captain of the Scotch guard. He died July 10, and was succeeded by the husband of Mary, Francis II. The deceased, Henry II., who was thus unexpectedly called to his account, had lately engaged with Philip and the Pope in extensive designs to suppress the Reforma-zabeth interfered constantly with the aftion, and had just passed a decree, ordering all the Lutherans in his own dominions to be put to death. A few days before the death of Henry, he had ordered a body of troops to be sent to Scotland, where the queen regent was already at issue with the chief nobility. She required absolute submission to the measures directed by France, and the English ambassador had learned it was intended to put the leading nobles to death. It was evident that the Scottish nobility and gentry would not be left to themselves to settle the differences which had arisen among them about religion; for these troops were despatched immediately after the accession of Francis. The Reformation in Scotland was to be crushed by foreign interference; thereby

fairs of Scotland. This is represented by Popish historians as unwarrantable, and designed to foment civil wars in that kingdom: it was defended by Cecil, on the ground that such interference was necessary to avert danger from his country and his sovereign. He declared that he thought it lawful to use the same means of defence which the adversary used in offence. Here, as in many other instances, we must regret that the state policy even of the most upright rulers, departs from the plain and simple declarations of Christianity. But it must be allowed that France was making great use of Scotland to forward political designs against England, before the latter took part in the Scottish_civil dissensions, as the only effectual way to meet

those seasons of interest and gratification | ments! Leaning on a staff for support, which have flung a sunbeam in my path and walking "softly," the breeze blowin days gone by. The more we remem- ing about their thin grey locks, they ber what we have enjoyed, the louder is dwell on the youth, the strength, and the call upon our thankfulness. Oh that activity of their by-gone days. Bear my heart were filled with praise, and my with them! Bear with them! mouth with thanksgiving!

There is another enjoyment, too, that I love to indulge; and that is, the recreation of sketching a character with my pen. Scores of such sketches I have by me, that no eyes but my own have ever seen. They will be found, perhaps, among a mass of unconnected manuscripts when the mortal part of Old Humphrey is laid in the dust. It would have been a good thing for me through life if I had devoted half as much time to correcting my own character, as I have spent in observing the characters of others; but that has not been the case, and the consequence is, a frequent exhibition on my part of those infirmities that I so quickly detect in my neighbours.

Think not, however, that I delight to banquet on the failings of my friends: this would be but an unlovely and unchristian employment. It is the oddity, the peculiarity, rather than the infirmity of human nature that I love to portray. At times, indeed, a strong dash of shadow mingles with my sketches; but if this be in the original, no marvel that it should appear in the copy. I will give you one of my sketches now.

I am about to describe humanity in a novel form; at least, in a shape that it does not commonly assume. When we see a miser clutching his money bags, and looking around him suspiciously, we are certain of his selfishness; when a dealer in any article unduly praises what he would sell, we suspect him of the same evil; but when a man, under the guise of hospitality, offers us the best his house affords, no wonder that we should be somewhat thrown off our guard.

Many a wintry wind has blown over the Black Mountains, and many a fall of snow has fringed their rugged eminences since I visited Llantony Abbey. It may be that the Abbey of Llantony is known to you; but if not, it may be a treat to you, on some future day, to visit its timeworn and desolated walls.

In my time, I have been a capital pedestrian; twenty miles have I tramped before breakfast, and once I walked with a friend forty-seven miles on the last day of a lengthy excursion. Thus it is that old men prate about their past achieve

It was at Christmas time that I set out on foot with two friends for Llantony Abbey. We had twenty-one miles of unknown ground to tramp over, at least unknown to me, and my friends had but a very general knowledge of it; a heavy fall of snow which had taken place added greatly to the fatigue of our journey, but we entered on our enterprise with light hearts and cheerful spirits. True it is, that our feet were sadly clogged with snow, so that we lifted up our heavy heels like labouring men walking across a fresh-ploughed field; and then, again, the descending flakes driven in myriads full in our faces, somewhat impeded our progress, to say nothing of the kneedeep snow-drifts we had to encounter in our occasional wanderings from the proper path; but these things are trifles when buoyant hearts are filled with the spirit of adventure. On we went, finding amusement in our toil, and laughing at each other's mishaps and difficulties.

My friends were well educated. The elder of the two had a sobriety mingled with his cheerfulness that made him very companionable, and the younger added to his general buoyancy of heart, that ready wit, which, when under the influence of judgment and good nature, is always agreeable. An interesting enterprize is not the less pleasant when shared by agreeable companions. My Llantony trip is vividly impressed on my memory. I should be sorry to think that it was blotted from the memory of my companions.

As we trudged onwards, little incidents occurred that gave an interest and variety to our journey. A friendly discussion, an anecdote, or an apt quotation from some favourite author; an allusion to the past, or a speculation relating to the future, by turns, called forth our conversational powers. How much of interest and pleasure is at times crowded into the brief space of a single hour!

In a state of society, our every day duties and occupations often mould us into positions foreign to our natures and inclinations, so that we appear other than we really are. In a friendly ramble, we are ourselves; restrictions vanish, and we feel at liberty, a social feeling gathers

around our hearts, and we think, speak, and act in our natural character. There are in such seasons, buoyant emotions, happy turns of thought, a disinterestedness, and a baring of the bosom, if I may so speak, that are delightful to share and pleasant to reflect upon.

In one place, we came to the very edge of a precipice, whose perpendicular depth must have been more than a hundred feet. A tree leaned over from the bank, and up this tree I foolishly climbed, to drop, from amid its branches, a stone to the ground beneath. There are reckless moods wherein peril operates as a charm on the youthful mind, alluring the bounding heart to danger: no doubt you have found it so as well as myself.

In a village through which we passed, we were treated in a very abrupt and discourteous way by a respectable-looking personage, whom we had civilly asked to direct us the road to Llantony. Now I hate churlishness in man or woman! A hog setting up his bristles and grunting in a menacing manner, without provocation, is scarcely more forbidding than a churlish man. As we pursued our course, guided rather by a sight of the distant hills, than by our knowledge of the roads, we were every now and then pent up by the enclosures of the different homesteads, or by the high hedges of the fields we had entered. Many a swollen brook had we to cross, and many a snow-drift to struggle through. At last we came to Llantony Abbey, a romantic ruin situated in the very heart of the mountains. A spot can scarcely be conceived more solitary and shut out from the world; the broad-breasted everlasting hills surrounding it on every side. Save the gorge at which we had entered, we looked in vain for any inlet to the valley.

We had been told that a bed might be got at the neighbouring village pothouse; but this was a mistake. The clergyman of the parish had taken up his residence at the pothouse, there being no parsonage house near. The dormitory where we intended to sleep was thus occupied, and, as a last resource, we were fain to seek a shelter for the night, wet and weary as we were, in the inhabited end of the old Abbey.

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ing with the dreary situation of his abode, and the bleak mountains that rose around his habitation.

Up the stone steps of the residence of Mr. Hollowblast we climbed with some difficulty; for they were slippery and heaped with snow, and we were much fatigued. My younger companion, who had rolled up his trowsers to the tops of his boots, cut a comical figure, lifting up his legs, as he did one after the other with his hands, being unequal in any other way to win the postern gate or doorway of Mr. Hollowblast's habitation.

It was certainly an untimely hour, to say the least of it, for three weary pedestrians, with boots and stockings saturated with snow water, unexpectedly to apply for an asylum in so lonely a place; no wonder that the old gentleman received us, at first, rather ungraciously.

Since the time of which I am now speaking, the brow of Old Humphrey has been graven by the hand of time, and his feet have travelled far toward the grave; but how has it been with his heart and his affections? Are they nearer heaven than they were? are they yearning for the mansions of the blest? Let me heave a sigh, and go on with my narrative.

There sat the redoubted Mr. Hollowblast in his arm-chair by the fire, with a worsted night-cap on his head, a pair of blue, broad-ribbed, worsted stockings, of ample dimensions, drawn over his legs and thighs.

While standing near the door, we made known to the old gentleman the object of our call. Attracted by the fame of Llantony Abbey, we had visited the place, but found no house where shelter for the night could be afforded us. We were wet, we were weary, and as strangers we trusted he would render us all the assistance in his power.

"Why, gentlemen," said he, eyeing us with that scrutinizing glance with which a shrewd landlord is wont to regard customers of a doubtful appearance,

this is an awkward time of night to come upon one unexpectedly, and an awkward time of the year too. Had it been in the summer, now, we could have managed the matter; for then we keep a bed or two always ready: but in winter it is altogether another affair. If you had only sent me word of your coming, there would have been no difficulty.'

A part of the ruin had been built up into some appearance of a mansion or dwelling-house, and this was inhabited by an old man of the name of Hollow- These observations were all very natublast; a name most admirably in keep-ral; but seeing that we could neither

alter the season of the year, nor the hour of the night, they sounded rather discordantly in our ears. As a kind of compromise, however, between the comforts we stood in need of, and the difficulties that existed in the way of procuring them, we proposed, with permission, to sit all night by the fire.

For a few moments we appeared to be hung up in the balances by our prudential host, and it seemed equally uncertain whether we should be considered of full tale and weight, or whether we should kick the beam. A feather would have turned the scale. Happily the decision was in our favour.

"Well, walk in, gentlemen," said Mr. Hollowblast, "and draw up to the fire. We will see what can be done for you; I know what it is to come in wet and tired after a journey. Mary, put some wood on the fire; these gentlemen must be sadly starved, and a good fire is a comfortable thing such a night as this. Be handy, girl; bring some wood as soon as you can. Let me see! If we have got nothing else, we can make a cup of tea, and a good cup too. Our bread is not to be found fault with, and there is no better butter any where. A pot of good tea and a plate of good toast and butter will be just the thing. Nothing so refreshing as tea after a journey. I have seen a good deal of life; I know what it is to come in wet and tired after a journey, and can feel for the gentlemen. Let them have a cup of tea as good as you can make it for them."

Before our sympathizing host had half finished these open-hearted observations, my younger companion, putting it down as a settled thing that in his weary state no possible contingency could compel him to move more than a stone's cast or two from the place where he then was, had begun to pull off his wet boots and stockings. This was an undertaking of some little difficulty, and soon attracted the attention of old Mr. Hollowblast, whose kindly feelings in our behalf again overflowed from his lips.

"Hark ye! Mary," said he, as soon as he heard her bring in the wood he had ordered her to fetch, "these gentlemen are wet in the feet, for they have walked a long way in the snow, see if you can find some of my warm woollen stockings; or worsted will do. 'Tis a sad thing to sit in wet clothes, and especially with wet feet, and bring a pair or two of my old shoes and slippers. I have travelled a

good deal, and know what it is to come in wet and tired after a journey. Be handy, girl! let us make the gentlemen as comfortable as we can; for I can feel for them."

It is a common observation that "Every man has his weak point," but if the word point were put in the plural, the remark would be quite as correct. Now one of the weak points of old Mr. Hollowblast was a disposition to talk about lord Anglesea, whom, in days gone by, he had served in the capacity of steward, or something of that kind. We were patient listeners, and thus secured the good will of our garrulous host.

The tea was excellent, the toast capital, and we did justice to them both; for of all recreations to those who are half famished, eating and drinking is the most agreeable.

"Let me see," said Mr. Hollowblast, soon after the tea made its appearance, "haven't we a bit of the goose left? we had a goose for dinner, and a good one too, and if there is any of it left, gentlemen, you shall have it and welcome. Mary, see what you can find: may be the gentlemen would like to pick a little of the goose, if you can find any. I know what it is to be weary and hungry: bring what there is of it, Mary, much or little, they shall have it and welcome."

Mary, after a little rummaging in the larder, produced a couple of drumsticks of the dinner goose, and sundry other fragments, which added considerably to the pleasure of our repast. Nor did the old gentleman forget, while we were burnishing the bones, again and again to refresh our memory with the often repeated information that he "had seen a good deal of life," that he knew what it was to be tired and hungry, and that he could feel for us."

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In sketching this portrait from the life, I am dealing as gently as I can with the original. Human sympathy is a costly thing. Oh that it were always disinterested! Oh that we were more interested in each other's eternal, as well as temporal welfare!

By the time we had taken our tea, Mr. Hollowblast appeared to take a still stronger interest in our welfare. "Mary," said he, "haven't we a little brandy, and an odd bottle of sherry in the house? I have some remembrance of such a thing; and if we have, let the gentlemen have it: where is the use of hoarding up comforts when people stand in need of them? See

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