WE this week submit a correct representation of Mr. Nash's much admired design for the principal door of the new House of Lords. On one side a portrait statue of Henry III., taken from his effigy in Westminster Abbey, appears; and, on the other, the image of the reigning queen. Natural emblems encompass the figures, with an ornamental border of oak leaf, the whole being inclosed by ornaments formed of the rose, the thistle, and the shamrock. Why Henry III. should be associated with her present majesty may require some explanation. "It was under him," says the catalogue, that "the first traces of the present constitution of a parliament appeared;" and, it is added, the sculpture proposed for the head of the arch is the memorable event in Westminster Hall, May 3, 1253. A few remarks on the subject of the scene to which Mr. Nash refers, will not here be out of place.

The struggle commenced in the reign of John with the barons, which led to the signing of the Magna Charta, at Runnymede, did not terminate there. John died in the following year, and his son Henry III., then a boy, became king. There were not wanting those, as he grew up, who made it their care to whisper in the young monarch's ear that his father had been traitorously assailed, and that he himself was disloyally controlled, and the royal power, in fact, usurped by a turbulent faction, who were no friends to the monarchy. He was advised to burst his bonds by the emissaries of the Pope. They contrived to gain his good graces, so that to almost all the valuable benefices, and many offices of trust and emolument, Italians were preferred. For more reasons than one this was well calculated to rekindle all the former patriotism of the barons, while the nation generally, saw with indignation, that few born within its limits were deemed worthy to administer its affairs. Henry wanted money, and to obtain it, gave out that he required a supply to enable him to go to the Holy Land. The barons knew this to be a mere pretext, but did not consider it prudent flatly to oppose such a demand, and they required as their condition that he should bind himself to observe the charters granted by his father, which they complained he

had frequently violated. To the clergy, who joined with the barons in this requisition, he sarcastically hinted that, as he had stretched the royal prerogative a little too far in their favour, they had better set him a good example by resigning their bishoprics, and abbeys, and he would take care to see them filled with pious and learned men. The prelates to whom this was addressed, replied, "the business then was not to undo the past, but to guard against abuse for the time to come;" and they granted him a tenth of their revenue for three years, as did the barons three marks of every knight's fee, held immediately of the crown. To complete this important business, the king convened a great meeting at Westminster Hall, at which all the lords, spiritual and temporal, attended with lighted tapers in their hands. Henry declined to hold one, that he might lay his hand on his heart during the whole of the ceremony, to prove how sincerely he assented to what they required. This being arranged, the archbishop of Canterbury, standing up before the people, denounced a terrible curse against all that should oppose, directly or indirectly, the observance of the charters, and likewise against those who should violate, put aside, or alter the laws of the kingdom. The anathema being delivered, the charters were read aloud, and confirmed by the king, who kept his hand all the while on his breast. He then exclaimed, "So may God help me, as I inviolably observe all these things, as I am a man, as I am a Christian, as I am a knight, and as I am a crowned and anointed king." Then each of the barons threw his taper on the ground, expressing the awful wish that, as they smoked there, the souls of those who broke the charter might smoke in hell,

All this mummery did not make the king faithful to his engagements. New dissentions arose, and this caused the barons to demand further reforms, and led to the appointment of four knights for each county to inquire into existing grievances, and thus laid the foundation of the representative system,-in a word, of the House of Commons.

THE LOYAL LORD CAPEL. Every reader of the "State Trials," must be acquainted with the story of the Loyal Lord Capel. The fortitude with

which he met his fate a few months after the fall of Charles the First, and from the hands of the same men who had hurried his royal master from existence, has been affectingly pourtrayed in Bishop Morley's account of the manner of his death, as well as the striking incident of his heart being presented to King Charles the Second, whose restoration Lord Capel had most confidently predicted. An account is extant, published a few years after the event, which is not preserved in the State Trials. It is not so full as that which was given to the world under the bishop's name, but from the facts stated, it is clearly written by the same hand. The concluding paragraph of the former, which mentions that the writer saw 66 as soon as the King came home, Sir Thomas Corbet give the silver box with that generous and loyal heart, to the King's own hands," clearly shows that the statement as then published, was prepared in or about the year 1660. Possibly the shorter one, in some respects more guardedly worded, was intended to appear immediately after Lord Capel's execution. Be that as it may, relating as it does to a person of such high rank, and yet more of such high merit, it is too valu able to be lost. It was put forth by the right reverend prelate in the following shape:

"A Letter to Mr. C. S., from a Reverend and Grave Divine.

"Sir, I hope this paper will find you upon your recovery; you have my daily and hearty prayers for it: not so much for your own sake, (for I doubt not but it will be much better for you in regard of yourself, to be dissolved, and be with Christ) but in the behalf of the Church, your friends and poor family: to which notwithstanding be assured, God will be merciful, howsoever he disposeth of you either for this life, or for a better. But if you live (as I pray and hope you will) you shall do very well to write the life and death of that noble Lord and blessed Martyr who professed at his death, that he died for the Fifth Commandment. And to die in the defence and for the testimony of any divine truth, is truly and properly to be a martyr. That which I can contribute towards this work is, to communicate some few observations I made of him, and from him, before and after his condemnation. I was several times with him, and always found him in a very cheerful and well-composed temper of mind; proceeding from true christian grounds, and not from a Roman resolution only (as his enemies are pleased to speak of him); he told me often it was the good God he served and the Good Cause he had served for, that made him not to fear death: adding, he had never had the temptation of so much as a thought, to check him for his en

"After his condemnation, and the afternoon before his suffering, we were a great while together: when, bewailing with that sense which became a true (and not despairing) penitent, the sins of his life past, the greatest he could remember was his voting my Lord of Strafford's death; which though (as he said) he did without any malice at all, yet he confessed it to be a very great sin: and that he had done it out of a base fear (they were his own words) of a prevailing party, adding, that he had very often, and very heartily repented of it: and was confident of God's pardon for it.

"Then he told me, he had a great desire to receive the blessed sacrament (so he called it) before he died the next morning: asking, what divine of the King's party I would recommend to him? I replied that (though many were more worthy, yet) none would be more willing to do him that service than myself. Which he accepting

very kindly, told me, he durst not desire it, for fear it might be some danger to me. After this and some conference in order to his preparation, both for his viaticum and his voyage, the sacrament and his death: he desired me to pray with him. Which, after I had performed, and promised to be with him by seven the next morning, I left him for that time to his own devotions.

"The next day I was there at the time assigned: and after some short conference in order to the present occasion, he desired me to hear him pray; which he did for half an hour in an excellent method, very apt expressions and most strong, hearty, and passionate affections; first, confessing and bewailing his sins with strong cries and tears; then humbly and most earnestly desiring God's mercy, through the merits of Christ only. Secondly, for his dear wife and children, with some passion: but for her especially, with most ardent affection; recommending them to the divine providence with great confidence and assurance: and desiring for them rather the blessings of a better life, than of this. Thirdly, for the King, Church, and State. And lastly, for his enemies, with almost the same ardour and affection.

"After this, sending for my Lord of Norwich, and Sir John Owen, I read the whole office of the church for Good Friday, and homily I used for the present occasion, we received the sacrament. In which action he behaved himself with great humility, zeal, and devotion. And being demanded after we had done, how he found himself: he replied, very much better, stronger, and cheerfuller for that heavenly repast: and that he doubted not to walk like a christian

On the fatal morning, he thus wrote to Lady Capel his last farewell.

"My Dearest Life,-My eternal life is in Christ Jesus. My worldly consideration in the highest degree thou hast deserved. Let me live long here in thy dear memory to the comfort of my family, our dear chil dren whom God out of mercy in Christ hath bestowed upon us. I beseech thee take care of thy health. Sorrow not unsoberly not unusually. God be unto thee better than a husband, and to my children better than a father. I am sure He is able to be so: I am confident He is graciously pleased to be so: God be with thee, my most virtuous wife: God multiply many comforts to thee and my poor children, is the fervent prayer of

s, with much ado, I persuaded the rest to be gone; and then with me, he said, Doctor, the f my work in this world is now g the parting with his wife. desired me to pray preparadeath, that in the last action

"Thy, &c."

1620, 1720, AND 1820;

OR,

THE DEAD GUEST.

(Continued from page 308.)

You are very thoughtfu

wife.

I have good reason to b
red, with severity.

Hardly, I think," said ewhat nettled, "what if a ed at the extravagant repo specting the Dead Guest; ted against anything stians ought to revere, nst the preposterous and ds which had been invent ated through the town, to of many poor addle-pates, the serious distress and ala meaning, imbecile drivelle The manufacturer fixed a on Madame Bantes, and lo ld have asked, "Do you Ia poor addle-pate? am aning imbecile driveller?” oked; what he said, and h isterially, ran thus

He quickened his movements, and was somewhat cheered when he joined his wife and daughter. They were in better spirits than they had been for some time. Though he was not displeased at that, he felt shocked at the general mirth, or rather at the foolish levity, with which the one allabsorbing topic of conversation-the reported arrival of the Dead Guest-was treated, by people of sense, who, as he thought, ought to have known better. To encounter the torrent of ridicule which would have overwhelmed any one who really believed that such a personage was actually in Herbesheim, could have done no good. The sort of comfort which bantering jesters were likely to administer, was but indifferently calculated to relieve his mind. He, therefore, listened, anything but approvingly, or with pleasure, to what others said; and returned home with his lady and Frederica, at an early hour.

behave himself, as might be "'s glory for the endeavouring master's memory, his present ce: and that he might avoid saying of anything, which either of vainty or sullenness. g done, they were all carried Cotton's house, where I was he was called unto the scaffold, ve gone up with him: but the diers would not suffer me." on accounts of this nobleman's - condemnation, do not make is particularly alluded to, iter of the above speaks of for the fifth commandment." letter written the day before to his wife, not uninteresting explanation on that point. test care in relation to the y dear self. But I beseech thou hast never refused my to, do thou now consummate And indeed it is so importhee, me, and all our children, e passion shall not over-rule r my request. I beseech thee in moderate thy apprehension me, and preserve thyself to the dear children, whom God out us in Christ Jesus, hath given car Mall (in the case she is mforts in that family depend thy preservation. I pray rethe occasion of my death

"What is this?" demanded Madame, as they entered the apartment in which Bantes had received the Dead Guest, and stooping, she picked up what appeared to be a letter, edged with black.

He looked confounded. The finding of a letter supposed to be addressed to her husband is always s mighty incident to a wife. She opened it,

It is commonly the resour ng ignorance to affect sup e, and to treat with conte lights and actual ers. Such matters are not to Bare trifles."

ex

Hey day," cried the wife, w are getting quite solemn this lecture tend? ts do you mean?" Wh

Had Madame in his "

gues

were you ou оцень

scarcely opened your avely replied. u mute?"

, not to say impiety, of solemn things is v, I deem it wisdom to n the horrors of the he supposed situation arted, is not exactly abbath evening should e people, who, while ggles and anxieties of k forward with chrisith religious awe, to a

daughter felt this was etion, coming, as it did, d and father, who had ccounts all the Sunday

houghtful," remarked ason to be so," he an

=," said his partner, what if a laugh were gant reports circulated Guest; this was not nything sacred, that revere, but simply 'ous and wicked falseen invented, and cirtown, to the annoydle-pates, and possibly ss and alarm of some ile driveller."

• fixed a scrutinising tes, and looked as if he "Do you mean me? pate? am I a welliveller?" this, we say, said, and he spoke very

us

the resource of unreaaffect superior knowwith contempt the suactual experience of are not to be regarded

the wife, with a laugh, uite solemn. To what end? What superior

essed that her husband ye" the vivid flashes of h burst on his visual

"To the letter-to the letter-" pointing with his fore-finger to give greater effect to his speech, which he wished to be deeply impressive.

"But how," asked the lady, "how came you to change your opinion; a day or two back, and you never spoke of the expected visitor, but with contempt and laughter." "I can do so no longer."

66

Why, what has chanced?"

"He has actually arrived. The visitor from the other world is positively in Herbesheim. These eyes have seen him."

"Seen whom-the Dead Guest?"
"I have, indeed. He has been here."

"Father!" exclaimed Frederica, in a tone which seemed to reprove such weakness, not to say such a monstrous disregard of truth.

"I am in earnest. The dreadful visitor has been here,-in this room. I have seen him, in all respects, such as he has been described; but, in this instance, as in 1720, he has adopted the fashionable dress of the day."

66

"You dream," said Madame Bantes. "That he should come at all to this or to any other place, is what I cannot easily bring myself to credit, but, that he should pay you a visit, in particular, passes all belief."

"Yet it is most true; not on my assertion alone does it rest; ask your maid, Catherine-ask her if she is sufficiently recovered from the fainting fit into which she fell on beholding the dreadful apparition, to give you an answer. Speak to Brandt-is he a hair-brained, gabbling fool

he will tell you that the Dead Guest came here, I might almost say, in a blaze of hellish fire, while the thunder roared as

...