fear the serpent which hath a sting, and that is worse than this bodily death, and one which they shall be brought to taste who are not grafted in Christ, wanting faith and a good conscience, and so are not acquainted with Christ the killer of death.

"But oh! my dear wife and friends, we, we whom God hath delivered from the power of darkness, and hath translated into the kingdom of His dear Son, by putting off the old man, and by faith putting on the new, even our Lord Jesus Christ, His wisdom, holiness, righteousness, and redemption-we, I say, have to triumph against the terrible, spiteful serpent the devil, sin, hell, death, and damnation. For Christ our brazen serpent hath pulled away the sting of this serpent, so that now we may boldly, in beholding the serpent, this bodily death spoiled of this sting, triumph, and with our Christ and all His elect say, 'O death, where is thy sting? O hell, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God, who hath given us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.' (1 Cor. xv.)

"Wherefore be joyful, my dear wife, and all my dear fellowheirs of the everlasting kingdom. Always remember the Lord; rejoice in hope; be patient in tribulation; continue in prayer, and pray for us now appointed to the slaughter, that we may be unto our heavenly Father a fat offering and an acceptable sacrifice. I may hardly write to you, wherefore let these few words be a witness of commendation to you, and all those who love us in the faith; and namely unto my flock, among whom I am now resident by God's providence, but as a prisoner.

"And although I am not so among them as I have been, to preach to them out of a pulpit, yet doth God now preach unto them by me, by this my imprisonment and captivity, which now I suffer among them for Christ's gospel's sake, bidding them to beware of the Romish antichristian religion and kingdom, requiring and charging them to abide in the truth of Christ, which is shortly to be sealed with the blood of their

pastor; who though he be unworthy of such a ministry, yet Christ, their high Pastor, is to be regarded; whose truth hath been taught them by me, is witnessed by my chains, and by his power shall be by my death also, through the power of that high Pastor. Be not careful, good wife; cast your care upon the Lord, and commend me unto him in repentant prayer, as I do you, and our Samuel, whom even at the stake I will offer, as myself, unto God. Fare ye well all in Christ, in hope to be joined with you in joy everlasting. This hope is put up in my bosom. Amen, amen. Pray, pray."

TO ROBERT AND JOHN GLOVER, WRITTEN THE MORNING THAT

HE WAS BURNT.

Oh!

"Grace and consolation in our sweet Saviour Christ. my dear brethren, whom I love in the Lord, being loved of you also in the Lord, be merry and rejoice for me, now ready to go up to that mine inheritance; which I myself indeed am most unworthy of, but my dear Christ is worthy, who hath purchased the same for me with so dear a price. Make haste, my dear brethren, to come unto me, that we may rejoice with that joy which no man shall take from us. Oh! wretched sinner that I am, not thankful unto this my Father, who hath vouched me worthy to be a vessel unto his honour. But, O Lord, now accept my thanks, though they proceed out of a not-enoughcircumcised heart.

"Salute my good sisters, your wives; and, good sisters, fear the Lord. Salute all others that love us in the truth. God's blessing be with you always. Amen. Even now towards the offering of a burnt sacrifice, O my Christ, help, or else I perish. "LAWRENCE SAUNDERS."

ELIZABETHAN ERA.

ELIZABETH ascended the throne of her sister in circumstances which, if they made a new sovereign welcome, rendered the task of that sovereign extremely arduous. Since the marriage of Mary to Philip, it almost seemed as if England were destined to become a mere dependence of Spain, unless, through the Scottish alliance, France should meanwhile succeed in making her ancient rival a province or a tributary. And whilst the national independence was seriously menaced, the national glory was mournfully tarnished. An impolitic war with Henry II. was squandering the resources of the realm, and, after two hundred years of English occupancy, the fleur de lis was once more floating from the towers of Calais. England was filled with rage and consternation. Not only was the heroic succession of ages fatally sundered, and the last trophy of Cressy and Poitiers torn from the grasp of unworthy descendants, but to excited imaginations it looked as if the keys of the Channel were lost; and who could tell but the next tidings might be that the Duke of Guise was marching by the Dover road to London? Nor was even this the largest element in the prevailing gloom. In that spiritual earthquake which had convulsed all Europe, England had been peculiarly agitated. From Romanism to Lutheranism, from Lutheranism to Henrican Popery, from the modified Popery of Henry's last years to the Calvinism of his son, and from Edward's Calvinism back to the original Romanism again, the nation had reeled and oscillated till every head was dizzy, and all the foundations were out of And now the fires of martyrdom were blazing far and near. From Suffolk to the Severn the land was clouded with the smoke of immolations, and resounded with wailings for its

course.

holiest and dearest citizens. Unless it were Bishop Bonner gloating over the agonies of tortured heretics, it seemed as if there were hardly one happy being in all the wretched kingdom; and one of the least happy assuredly was the conscientious but dark-minded sovereign, who shared the horrible mistake of her husband, and, believing the Saviour of mankind to be a sort of Moloch, deemed it a religious duty to act as the Pope's executioner, and the tormentor of her own subjects. The exchequer was empty; the people were dispirited; France exulted; Scotland was awaiting its opportunity; Spain was exacting and ungrateful;-and, amidst the contempt of mankind, England had no consolation except the encomiums of the Roman pontiff welcoming the lost kingdom back to darkness and spiritual despotism. And although in these circumstances the mere death of Mary was a merciful relief to the afflicted realm, it needed no ordinary successor to retrieve the fortunes of England, and recover for the degraded kingdom her forfeited position among the powers of Europe. For such a purpose there was wanted a head as wise and wary as Alfred's to wear the crown—a hand as firm and unfaltering as that of the boldest Plantagenet to sway the sceptre. Even in that century, so rich in vigorous statesmanship and monarchical talent, it might be questioned if a ruler existed equal to such an emergency, unless it were that old and abdicated emperor who then lay dying in the cloisters of St Juste. But the crisis was met, and the glory of England was restored by a wonderful woman.

How, youthful, beautiful, and endeared by adversities, Elizabeth mounted the throne amidst the shouts of the nation; how she avowed it as her object to govern for the good of her people; how she soon made it palpable that the new sovereign was neither the partner of one foreign potentate, nor the hireling of another, nor the spiritual thrall of a third, but England's own queen; how she enforced on her judges tenderness and humanity, till the two thousand yearly executions which

THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND.

75

ensanguined the reign of her father were reduced to a fifth of the number; how she reformed her exchequer, and, whilst paying off the debts of her brother and sister, and indulging in many acts of popular munificence, how she was not only able to remit taxes voted by Parliament, and leave them uncollected, but could aid with effective largesses the Protestants of Scotland, the Huguenots of France, the emancipators of the Netherlands; how under her peaceful sway trade and manufactures flourished; how expeditions were fitted out to penetrate the Polar Seas and circumnavigate the globe; how the first year of her reign was inaugurated by a relaxation of the navigation laws, and how every subsequent year saw the harbours filled with ever-augmenting fleets of her own merchantmen; how in the Royal Exchange a commercial palace rose in the heart of London, whose precincts were destined to be the theatre of a diplomacy as deep and delicate as that which whispered mysteriously in the privy chambers of Windsor and Greenwich, but unspeakably more momentous; how new branches of industry, like the whale fishery, sprang into existence, and how England fell instant heir to the trade and commerce which Spain with suicidal hand had scared away from the ruins of Antwerp; how in corporations like the Turkey Company, and "the Company of London Merchants trading into the East Indies," were planted the germs of an empire which should render an English navy as needful in the Mediterranean and Indian Seas as in the German Ocean; and how, when danger menaced her own industrious and thriving isle, the Minerva of the peaceful arts started forth a Bellona ready for the battle;-how all this took place, is one of the best known and most romantic pages in British history. And England can never efface from her proud and grateful recollection the glories of that reign when Cecil and Walsingham were the ministers, when Coke and Bacon were the lawyers, when Spenser was the poet, and Sidney was the soul of