"It is my principles they attack; and, through these, the Church, the Crown, and the Constitution." He was for days after as proud of showing the windows the mob had broken, as he was of pointing out the breaches in the walls which Cromwell's Ironsides had made, when the Grange was defended by his ancestor, "Old Stirrup-soup," as he was long after called, through swearing that he would have every stirrup-leather stewed down into soup before he would surrender. Long before Emma arrived, the Baronet had received tid ings of her safety. At any other time he would have been much more seriously affected; but such a night of excitement as he had gone through, had strained every feeling beyond the calm recoil of nature. The mind was numbed beneath such a multitude of events, coming as they had done one on the heels of another! Added to this, he had taken more wine than he was accustomed to drink, and had no sleep, though he always retired to rest as soon as the clock struck eleven. Though after the announcement, he boasted how like Jephtha of old he could even sacrifice his daughter for the good of his country, if such a sacrifice was needed, still his actions showed how ill he could bear the brief delay between receiving the tidings of her coming and her appearance. Every minute he rang the bell to make fresh inquiries; every few seconds, he was up at the window; until, unable to contain himself any longer, he proposed a walk on the lawn, under the plea that the morning air would prove refreshing. Emma had alighted at a little wicket which led into the shrubberies, and it was at the end of one of those quaint walks before described, that she first caught sight of her father. Her first feeling was to quit the arm of her deliverer, and run to meet him; but, checking the warm impulse of her loving nature, she felt that she had a solemn duty to perform to one who had that night braved so much for her sake. They met; their tears mingled for a moment as they clung to each other; and, taking her father's hand, without releasing her hold, she placed it in that of Squire Rogerson's, saying, "Father, you have ever spurned his offered kindness; do so no more; but for him I should not have been with you now. Thank him for my sake." lish heart, in spite of all his political prejudices, shared with her the doom pronounced. It was the determined for once to go the right way. There silent pleading of the "Peri at Eden's gate" to the seemed a something mesmerical in the touch of those traitor who had long waited the opportunity to let two loving hands; for Emma's long, lily-like fingers her in. were entwined over all, and the proud-hearted old Tory's better feeling blubbered out in tears, like a silver spring that has long been choked up with mud. [THE FIRING OF THE CORN WAREHOUSE.] ras She had long felt that he loved her; for, though he had not breathed the word, "his eye discoursed." Hers was a face that, like a remembered dream, long haunted the memory after it had passed. It seemed as if struck unaware in the master-mould of beauty, as if Nature had despaired of ever obtaining such another impression, so left it to be admired and wondered at. But, oh! the light within her sparkling eyes! the mind that beamed through that matchless face! -painter could never yet give that speaking impression, nor poet describe that sweet intel ligence the light from the spirit within. It was like those exquisite figures on the lamps of the ancients, only seen through when the perfumed warmth had kindled their beauty. And by her intercession the poor deluded rioters were dealt gently with, and he who was soon to become her husband brought his persuasive powers to the bar of Justice in their behalf, and the law was, with a few exceptions, pacified with a few imprisonments. Even the stern old Baronet was compelled to yield to such gentle opposition; and though he swore that they all deserved to be hanged, yet, in his good old English heart, he was glad that they escaped with a milder punishment. And then the bells from the grey and weather-beaten tower of Calderwood rang out a merry peal, which was With one hand placed on the shoulder of his, taken up andechoed back by every surrounding hill Reform-Bill-advocating and Free-Trade-Principlelaving neighbor, while the other grasped both their united hands, he said, "I was reading the works of King Alfred yesterday. He says that God created all men alike noble, and that by vice only can a man unnoble himself. I thought what dcals some of my ancestors have been-how, the further I look back the less I have to boast of, as regards the pride of birth, and-and-" He could not proceed without a long pause, for conscience, like a blow from a strong man, seemed to take away his breath; this over, he asked to be forgiven. Emma raised those soft, soul-searching eyes to The staunch, iron-side old Tory hemmed twice- Squire Rogerson; she did not speak. Such a look,. as he was in the habit of doing before making one even from the pit of perdition, might almost have of his long, dry, hard-headed harangues-but this tempted a wavering spirit from the cloudy battletime he could not get on at all. His good old Eng-ments of a brighter sphere to have returned and and valley. A flutter of bridal garments was seen in the ivy-covered porch, while the village children scattered flowers before the wedded couple, and old and young curtseyed and blessed them as they passed, as they looked on and lined the avenue of trees that threw their shadows upon that green churchyard. And from the time of their union old Sir Miles gradually began to give up many of his political prejudices, and even at last went sc far as to admit that those who were taxed to support the Government of the country, ought to have a voice in returning the men by whom they were governed; that what they paid for they ought to have; and that to pass Jaws for the benefit of one class to the detriment of another, was not according to the constitution passed by good King Alfred and his Witenagemote. And the old Tory, who was a great admirer of our Saxon Alfred and his early English Parliament, made one of the most indulgent Planche's History, and the other meritorious works wherever we look into the history of mankind, of grandfathers. now before us, that we cannot point to one single whether through the annals of courtiers or the THE of its truth. People pass it as they do a bad sovereign, because their own interest is concerned in turning it to account. Every age has its favourite fallacy suited to the favourite foible of the period, which is passed eagerly from mouth to mouth, till some one comes who can afford to detect it. Thus, for centuries, it suited us to circulate a well-turned set of fallacies respecting woman's incapacity for keeping a secret-the motive being merely thereby to secure an innocent scapegoat, on whom to lay the shame of our own indiscretions. Now we are too happy when one of the sex will condescend to become the confidante of any secrets we may possess, and feel them honoured by her acceptance. For centuries we agreed that education was a dangerous thing for her, only because we felt how much better use she would make of it than ourselves. Now we not only make them welcome to help themselves to any of the fruits of science, or flowers of literature, plentifully as they please, but are too happy, as all editors and publishers will testify, when we can prevail upon them to help us as well. There is one fallacy, however, still current against women, which we must take this public opportunity of denouncing. A certain old father, soured by the circumstances of his lot, relieved some of his spleen by defining woman as "an animal that delights in finery ;" and this saying, naturally so acceptable to disappointed gentlemen of all orders, continued an authority as evidence of painters, we find two animals equally fond of dress.-Quarterly Review. THE LOVER'S LEAP. MANY years ago, during the reign of the Em peror Charles the Fifth, a noble gentleman, Count Antonio Fregoso, was governor of the city of Verona, in Italy. The count was a widower, with one daughter, whom he passionately loved, and so entirely trusted, that, yet a girl of seventeen, she enjoyed the most perfect liberty and control over her own actions. She was beautiful, with dark full eyes and fair cheeks, which yet glowed with the roseate hue of health and happiness. Single offspring of the rich Fregoso, she had many lovers, and among them there was none whom she esteemed as truly loving her, but she rather suspected the whole crowd to be moved only by the desire of possessing the richest heiress of Italy. Such ideas endowed her with a strange mixture of pride and humility; she disdained a mercenary band, who paid the lowly services of love for the sake of her wealth and rank; and she felt that her heart contained a treasure of affection, unexpended yet, but which she would gladly bestow on one, of whose disinterested love she could feel secure. While she haughtily turned away from her many suitors, she was humbled in her own eyes by the belief that her individual merit had failed to attract one truly loving heart. A young French knight had lately been added to her train of admirers. The Chevalier Montreville was of a noble but impoverished family, and beholding the object of his affectionate idolatry sur even to the time of the amiable Spectator. But it have indulged a little extravagance in one part, we rounded and vainly courted by the most distinguished is pretty clear that, in all that appertains to finery in have broken out ten times worse in another. If nobles of her native land, he shrank into himself, dress, the sex to which the father himself belonged, they have had head-dresses like the moon's crescent, has not only always kept pace, but frequently out- we have had shoes like a ram's horns. If they have stripped the other; and that whilst our poets, lined their petticoats with whalebone, we have moralists, and clergy, have been satirizing and de- stuffed our trunk-hose with bran. If they have nouncing the extravagances and absurdities of wreathed lace ruffs around their lovely throats, we female apparel, we have been flaunting and strutting have buttoned them about our clumsy legs. If they away, under cover of our own fire, far more extra- carried a little mirror openly on their fans, we have vagant and absurd than they. It appears from Mr. | concealed one slily in our pockets or hats. In short, fearing to share the disdain which he found to be the portion of all who spoke to Ippolita in the language of love. The proud girl, yet unaware of the cause, marked his appearance in her cortège with pleasure, and she watched his movements with something like anxiety. His clear blue eyes seemed incapable of expressing anything but truth; his voice had persuasion in its tone: how was it that voice alone had never expressed love for her? This question was too soon answered. A moonlight festival-a momentary division from all others-an unwonted gentleness in the lovely Italian's manners, made Montreville forget his prudence and his fears. A word—a pressure of the hands-how were they answered? Ippollta had respected his silence --she replied contemptuously; nay, the unexplained internal conflict of her feelings made her answer him even angrily. She commanded his absence, and his future silence on so displeasing and barren a subject. Some weeks after, Ippolita and many of her companions of either sex were riding on the bridge of the Adige. Montreville was there; he had not dared to infringe the orders of his lady, nor urge again his suit; yet he did not despair. Nay, in spite of his disappointment, he felt sustained by his own integrity, and showed no sign of depression. "He fancies that he loves me," thought Ippolita. "No; I am wrong; he does not even imagine such a sentiment; his conduct is dictated by the basest motives, and he has not the art of even casting a veil over them." She turned her eyes contemptuously on him—yet could any vile feeling lurk in so frank a countenance! She felt the blood glow in her cheek. How could she prove to herself whether the love he pretended were true or feigned? 66 The conversation turned on the subject of love. Many of her suitors spoke with enthusiasm on the subject, wishing to gain thus the confidence of Ippolita; but she turned all their highflown expressions into ridicule, and with unaccustomed bitterness forgot her usual courtesy in her tauntings Montreville listened silently. Impatient of this show of coldness, she turned suddenly towards him, asking: "And what does our French visitant say to our Italian eloquence? Words, and not deeds,' is a lover's motto-think you not so, Chevalier ?" Montreville's countenance lighted up with a glow of pleasure at this address. Since, madam," he replied, "you deign to permit me to speak on the subject of love, I shall not, I trust, be found a worse pleader than these gentlemen in its sacred cause." Then he entered on a description and a defence of the passion, so glowing, so fervent, and so sincere, that while his bright eyes flashed fire, and his cheek burnt with enthusiasm, the lids of Ippolita's dark orbs half veiled them, and the blush of confusion stained her cheek. He had described the adoration of the lover for his mistress; he descanted on his tenderness; then he spoke of his devotion-his readliness to sacrifice his life for her smile. Towards the end of his harrangue, Ippolita somewhat recovered herself; and when he paused, as if concluding, she turned to him, with a smile of mockery, saying: "Fine expressions these, Chevalier! and they the more confirm my saying, ' Words, not deeds.' For my part, I never saw any of these furious, fire-eating lovers who really ever burned and were consumed. Sigh they may, and lament, and strive to weep; but when a test should be made, the fire goes out, and-oh, miracle-the fuel remains unconsumed." "Madam," replied Montreville, "that I love you, I have confessed, and you have not deigned to believe me, nor will you open your eyes to the burning affection that consumes me. If for a moment you could become aware of the feelings that devour me, 66 Nay, the trial has not yet been made," said the proud girl, with a scornful laugh, piqued at being thus challenged to believe and acknowledge her belief in a passion whose existence she denied. "The time is opportune," she continued; "the waters flow cold at your icy feet, yet not colder than your heart; will you not prove their power over it?" It was nearly at the end of the month of October; the change of season was already severely felt, and the north wind that blew added to the cold. When the lover heard this proud and cruel girl invite him to throw himself into the water, hurried away by youthful and rash passion, and blinded by his ardent desire to prove his truth, he replied fervently, Most ready am I to obey you-most happy to find a way of proving my sincerity." Then, without pause, dashing his spurs into his horse's sides, he forced the noble barb he rode to leap from the bridge into the swift and foaming river. persons assembled on the bridge and on the banks, began to cry for help. Still Montreville did not lose his presence of mind; so, instanly loosening and casting from him his cloak, he quitted his horse's rein, leaving him to guide himself instinctively to a place of safety. He was now prepared for swimming; and though his dress was eumbrous, and his heavy sword was belted to his side, yet he strove gallantly with his watery enemy. There were no boats near, nor was there any person who would risk his life by endeavouring to aid him; but all who beheld him assisted only by their cries. The women, weeping and trembling with fear, stood overcome by terror, watching the result of this rash and perilous enterprise. The proud Ippolita, who, before, had never given credit to the existence of so true a passion, softened by so horrible and fearful an event as this seemed likely to be, and deeply compassionating her hapless lover, cried aloud for help, and passionately entreated the standers-by to go to his assistance; but no one dared to make an attempt to save him, which would have put their own lives in similar peril. Montreville was an excellent swimmer, and had The Adige is very deep, and rapid, and difficult been accustomed to such hardy and dangerous pasof navigation, especially near the bridges, on time; so that when he saw his dear mistress weepaccount of the gulfs and whirlpools; and now, in ing bitterly, and demonstrating by her manner her consequence of recent rains, it was swollen and fears on his account, he felt himself sweetly rewardtempestuous. The horse, borne down by the bur-ed for all he had risked; and such delight filled his then of his rider, sank at once to the bottom; then, heart, that his strength seemed to increase with his like a ball which rebounds from the ground on joy, and the idea of danger was entirely forgotten. which it has been flung, he rose again to the sur- So, swimming with undaunted heart, and dexter face, with the youth still in the saddle. Then he ously cutting through the opposing waves, each began, with pant and strain, to breast the water moment he gained on his enemy, and approached a transversely towards the shore, guided by Montre-feasible landing-place; and though impeded by his ville; and gaining somewhat on the current he heavy garments, and weighed down by his sword, drew near the banks. The youth, who still kept yet he contrived to cast from him the waters, and so his seat, turned his head towards his proud mis- to conquer their power, that he reached the sloping bank, and, getting on land, hastened in safety towards the spot where Ippolita and her companions were. His horse, following in his master's wake, also gained the landing-place, and was led away by the chevalier's servants. tress. 66 Behold, lady of my heart," he cried with a loud voice, “behold, I am in the midst of the waters? yet, bathed as I am by their icy waves, I feel no cold; and feeling them all around me, they in no way allay the fever of my love; but the rather, my true heart burns with a purer and steadier flame in despite of their chilling influence." Love and truth the while achieved a complete victory. Ippolita felt her whole heart dissolve in pity and compassion for her lover, so that to have saved him from the waves she would most willingly have put her own life in similar peril ; but, knowing no means whereby to assist him, she called aloud for help, weeping the while, and frantically wringing her hands. When the gallant Frenchman had landed, wet as he was, he respectfully approached the lovely girl, saying, "I am returned, dearest lady. Behold my heart, still burning with love and devotion for thee, as it will continue to do, even till death!" His companions, who were still on the bridge, remained astonished and frightened; and overcome by the sight presented to them by the courageous and undaunted Montreville, they stood as if senseless, speechless, wonder-stricken. The youth, who gazed more intently on the youthful Ippolita than on the course of his horse, reached the banks of the river, but in a place where a high wall was immediately at the edge, so that he was unable to land. He was, therefore, obliged to direct his course towards a spot where the sloping bank pro- Ippolita was surrounded by the flower of the mised a safe exit from the river. Desiring to turn Italian nobility; she stood bright in loveliness, his horse with the rein, spurring him at the same power and youth; but pride was extinguished in time, the water striking his sides violently as he her bosom. Thus, as Montreville stood, the water turned, and rushing between his legs, threw him dripping from his garments, his cheek, which had over; so that the ardent Montreville, notwithstand-glowed with enthusiasm, now became ashy pale ing all his exertions, lost his stirrups and his seat; from his violent exertions. Then, as he humbly but still keeping hold of the rein, and thus leading his horse, he came again to the surface of the water. and gently presented himself before her, Ippolita cast herself into his arms, exclaiming,—" Love, you have conquered! Montreville-I am yours for LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. BY J. F. SMITH, ESQ., Author of Stanfield Hall," "Minnie Grey," etc. ELIZABETH, QUEEN REGNANT OF ENGLAND. Ν (Continued.) CHAPTER XXXIII. Let bonfires shine in every place; Sing and ring the bells apace, And pray that long may live her grace. POEM WRITTEN IN THE TIME OF ELIZABETH. IN the month of June following the events narrated in the preceding chapter, Elizabeth was taken so seriously ill that her life was for some time despaired of. On her recovery, Mary not only sent her a ring in token of her amity, but permitted her to retire to her mansion at Hatfield, under the guardianship of Sir Thomas Pope, who, being a good scholar, soon ingratiated himself with his royal charge. In November she was sent for to court, at the instigation of Philip of Spain, the queen's husband, who left no means short of violence untried to remove her from the kingdom. The pretensions of Philibert of Savoy to her hand were renewed, and she found herself exposed to the solicitations not only of the imperial party, but her sister. With her usual prudence, she contrived to avoid the snare, by positively declaring her fixed determination to lead a single life; after which she was per mitted to return to her retreat at Hatfield. During the rest of Mary's reign, the difficulties and persecutions of Elizabeth were from the different suitors for her hand, whom Mary was continually pressing upon her. Amongst others, Prince Eric, the son of the great Gustavus Vasa, and heir to the Danish throne, were equally rejected. Young as she was, the future queen did not permit her judgment to be dazzled by the prospect of the crown matrimonial of either country, while the diadem of England appeared like a glorious certainty beaming in the future. The moment at last approached when the life of Mary was drawing to a close. The events which preceded her death belong more to the reign of that princess, than the subject of our present memoir. Not long before that event took place, the queen sent two lords of her council-Arundel and Paget -to visit her at Hatfield. The interview was a curious one. By command of Mary, they made three proposals to her successor. The first was, that she would not change her privy council; the second, that she should bind herself to make no alteration in the established religion of the realm; the third, that Elizabeth should pay her just debts. Upon which conditions the queen promised to leave her the crown. "As for the crown," answered the daughter of Anne Boleyn, "I have no reason to thank her for it -since it is my peculiar hereditary right, my lords -which none but traitors would gainsay! sister, is both equitable and fitting; and I promise demand from her, in my name, the black enamelled to do so as far as may lay in my power." ring which our sister wore day and night upon her left hand. I shall then know what to believe or fear." With this reply she dismissed them, and they returned to London little satisfied with the equivocal nature of her answer. As soon as Sir Nicholas had bowed himself out Shortly after, the crown jewels were sent to her of the closet of the speaker, her grace turned by her sister. towards Cecil, and demanded if she had not acted wisely. It had been previously arranged, that on the demise of Queen Mary, Sir Nicholas Throgmorton "Admirably, madam !" was the reply; “and this should be the bearer of the intelligence to Hatfield, prudence argues well for your future reign. I where the Lady Elizabeth still resided with all nothing doubt but that the intelligence is correct; becoming privacy; but coming events will cast for three days since I knew that it was the opinion their shadows before them and the crowd of cour-of the late queen's physicians that her majesty tiers-those true worshippers of the rising sun- could not last more than eight-and-forty hours." which began to arrive, indicated that the crown was about to descend upon the brow of another. was Elizabeth was seated in her closet, in conversation with Cecil and her ladies, when it announced to her that a gentleman, covered with dust, whose horse had fallen from exhaustion at the entrance of the park, had arrived at Hatfield, and humbly craved audience of her grace. The counturned deadly pale-every eye was fixed upon tenance of the future sovereign flushed, and then her. "Your highness will see him?" observed Cecil. "Alone!" answered the princess. "Alone?" repeated the secretary, in a tone of disappointment. 'Tis possible that they may have been deceived," replied his royal mistress; "and experience warns us not to trifle in matters of such moment." preceding interview, were summoned back to the The ladies, who had been dismissed during the royal closet-curiosity and expectation were in the countenances of all. Elizabeth received them as if nothing uncommon had occurred. cheek and brow are flushed!" 66 66 see how her Her eye is troubled!" observed a second; perhaps her sister has recovered!" A supposition which was anything but welcome to those present. That same evening the princess retired to rest, It was not till the apartment was cleared, that after supping at her usual hour. she permitted the entrance of the messenger, who Early the following day a deputation from the came to announce her succession to the long-privy council arrived at Hatfield, to offer their coveted crown of her sister-the object of her ambi- homage to her as their rightful sovereign. There ion, struggles, and hopes. was no longer room for doubt or mistrust. The No sooner had Sir Nicholas entered the apart-long-persecuted daughter of Anne Boleyn fell upon ment, than he carefully closed the door; then, bend- her knees, and, whilst the hall resounded with ing the knee, pronounced in a low tone, in which exultation, however, was distinctly manifested: "God save Queen Elizabeth !" "Amen!" ejaculated Cecil, at the same time bending the knee, and kissing the hand extended towards him. "Our sister Mary?" said Elizabeth, fixing her "Is dead, so please your majesty." "I had it from one of the gentlemen of the Earl "Sir Nicholas," replied the princess, gravely, "it is not upon such uncertain intelligence that we can accept the title you have saluted us with. I must have more certain proof." Welcome, O queen! as much as heart can think; Welcome again as much as tongue can tell; Welcome to hearts and tongues that will not shrink!} God thee preserve, we pray, and wish thee ever well! CITY WELCOME TO QUEEN ELIZABETH. HE death of Queen Mary placed the Catholics THE of England in an embarrassing position. Not only was the strength of the kingdom in their hands, but every place of confidence and importance was filled by members of the ancient faith. Some fore And see the lady of the bedchamber of the saw the downfall of the church, and the re-establishqueen." "Mean you your majesty's?" "Not that title," interrupted Elizabeth; "perhaps it is not yet mine. I doubt not your fidelity, Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, but experience has made me careful of the wiles of Philip and his friends. You will see the party I have named, and if the That I should pay the debts of the queen, my event be true-if, indeed, I am Queen of England Touching the religion of the realm, I will not change it-provided only that it can be proved such by the word of God ment of the reformed religion; others predicted civil war; and not a few desired that the young Queen of Scots should be proclaimed queen-founding her right to the crown on the supposed illegitimacy of Elizabeth. Fortunately, however, for all parties, these attempts were prevented, and the peace of England preserved, by the good sense and loyalty of Dr. Heath, the Catholic Archbishop of York, and Lord High Chancellor of England. That distin- A little further on the road towards London, the met the mute appeal by a decided frown. The new guished prelate proposed an assembly of both Houses of Parliament, that they should at once proceed to the palace, and there and then proclaim Elizabeth as Queen-a proceeding which at once rendered her title indisputable. Rapin, with that dishonest spirit which characterises his history, has foully belied this patriotic conduct of the Catholic Chancellor; but the journals of the House of Lords still exist to prove the falsehood of his assertions. Holinshed and Heyward have equally preserved the speech he made on the occasion. The proclamation was first made, in presence of both Houses of Parliament, at the doors of Westminster Hall. The new sovereign was proclaimed "Queen of England, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith;" but not supreme head of the church. The ceremony was afterwards repeated in the city, by the Duke of Norfolk, and the Lord Mayor and aldermen. On the 28th of November the queen took possession of the royal apartments, or lodgings, as they were quaintly called, in the Tower. Elizabeth rode on horseback, dressed in purple velvet, having Lord Robert Dudley, as Master of the Horse, on her right hand. On reaching the Tower, her majesty, it is recorded, fell upon her knees, and returned thanks to Almighty God for deliverance: in her prayer she compared herself, not over modestly, perhaps, to Daniel in the lions' den. It was duly debated in council whether or not the oath of supremacy should be exacted. But Elizabeth and her advisers were far too cautious to proceed at once to abolish the ancient faith. At the funeral of her sister, mass was said, the queen being Whilst these rejoicings were taking place in the present. After the ceremony, the Bishop of Winmetropolis, Cardinal Pole, the Catholic primate, ex-chester-an intemperate prelate, but a man of irrepired of a malignant fever, which carried off no less proachable morals-ascended the pulpit to preach than thirteen bishops in a few months-a mortality the funeral sermon. which considerably lessened the influence of the Catholics in the Upper House of Parliament, and rendered the changes which were shortly afterwards introduced in the religion of the realm much more casy of accomplishment. After having held her first council at Hatfield, in which she appointed her long-tried friend and counsellor Secretary of State, Elizabeth, attended by a noble retinue of lords and gentlemen, set forth for the metropolis. Her journey was one continued ovation: the population of the towns and villages came forth to welcome her. As the royal train approached Highgate, many of the bishops, attended by their clergy and officebearers, who had been awaiting her arrival, knelt by the road-side. "What would these men?" she demanded of Cecil, who rode a little behind his mistress, on her left hand. "Gracious queen," replied the new minister, bowing to the bow of the saddle; "they are a deputation of the prelates and clergy of the realm, come to proffer their allegiance to your majesty." "Which we are pleased to accept," said Elizabeth, with a cheerful smile; "rise my lords," she added; "we thank you for your love and loyalty with all our hearts!" In further token of her favor, she ungloved her right hand, which was of marvellous whiteness, and extended it to the bishops to kiss. He commenced by a review of the life of Mary, "MELIOR EST CANIS VIVUS LEONE MORTUO." The Catholic party saw, with surprise and dissatisfaction, a party of the buff-coats drawn up round the pulpit. They more than guessed the purport. As the bishop descended, the Earl Marshal extended his staff towards him; and, bowing low, declared that he was his prisoner. Prisoner!" repeated the prelate, scornfully; "upon what charge, my lord duke?” "Treason!" "And by whose order?" "Mine-priest!" answered Elizabeth, in a clear, resolute voice, from her chair of state. "God's death! dost think we are of that patient, yielding stuff, that every knave may trifle with our dignity! If the living dog," she added, bitterly, alluding to his sermon, "be better than the dead lion, it is that it can use its fangs!" "Madam!" said the bishop, firmly, "I am a prelate of the holy Catholic Church, which, thank heaven, is still by law the established religion of the realm!" "We know it!" answered Elizabeth, with contemptuous indifference. "We also know that the same authority which made it so, can unmake it! Away with him to the Tower!" "Bishop's have their privileges!" continued the prelate. "But none to insult their sovereign !" replied the "since the Divine founder The rest of the sermon was equally disparaging queen, with ready wit; to the queen. of the Christian faith expressly says: No sooner did Elizabeth hear herself compared to a living dog than the temper of her father, Henry, rose within her--for although the discourse was in Latin, she perfectly understood it. Her temples became flushed-for she keenly felt the insult to her, both as a woman and a sovereign. Turning towards Lord Robert Dudley, who was standing behind her chair of state, she whispered a few words in his ear they were brief and decisive. "Send Norfolk to me !" Render unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's. Honor, obedience, and respect are due to the princes," she added; "thou hast forgotten them! My lord duke, look to your prisoner !" Beware!" exclaimed Dr. White; "the arm of the church is strong!" "Stronger than the sceptre?" "Yes!" replied the prelate; "the sceptre's sway extends but o'er the bodies-that of the crosier over the souls of men! Let but a hand be laid upon my person, and here, proud woman-here in the face of all thy court, and in thy dead sister's presence-I cancel thy share in the inheritance of heaven, release thy subjects from all allegiance to thee, and pro Her favorite for the Master of the Horse, it is shrewdly suspected, even at that time, was her lover ventured to remonstrate. He foresaw her design, but the dark cloud upon the brow of the lion queen -as she has most unaptly been styled-warned himnounce upon thy head the awful curses of Rome !" that he was treading upon dangerous ground. "God's death, Dudley !" she exclaimed, interrupting him; "art thou, too, turned fool or traitor? Must we speak, even to thee, our pleasures twice? Send the Earl Marshal to me !" In a few moments the duke, who at that period was a very young man, stood respectfully before her, holding the staff of office in his hands. "Our royal father braved it, bishop," answered Elizabeth, with a satirical smile; " and he died King of England. We fear neither Rome nor Roman's curse a rush, when conscious of the integrity of our own heart and purpose! See if curses will break thy bonds, or release thee from the Tower, where, as I am a queen, thou shalt sleep this night, after thy most traitorous discourse levelled against allegiance and good government!" "You heard that mitred traitor ?" said the queen. Bonner, the worthless Bishop of London was the jast to approach. The queen fixed her eyes sternly upon him, and deliberately drew on her glove, thereby intimating that he alone of the prelates was excluded from that honor. Considering the position of the new sovereign, it was boldly and royally done, to mark her abhorrence of the foul persecutions and cruelties he had been guilty of. Abashed by the silent but humiliating rebuke, which was doubly mortitying from having been given in the presence of the principal nobility of the realm, Bonner with drew to his mansion near Farringdon Street-part of which still remains-the locality in which it is Cecil, who guessed what was taking place, cast situated being known by the name of Bonner Lane. an imploring glance towards his royal mistress-who voice and gesture which reminded her hearers so much of her imperious father, that they felt there would be danger in disobeying her. "Be it so!" said the prisoner; "I am ready to seal my faith to Rome with the blood of its servant !'' "No!" exclaimed the queen, tartly; we may 66 |