immediately into Flanders, engaged himself to a white twig basket-maker, and applied every power of ingenuity and industry, to become skilled in the business. He soon obtained a complete knowledge of the art; and, before the expiration ofthe time proposed, returned, and brought with him, as specimens of his skill, several baskets, adapted to fruit, flowers, and needlework.

These were presented to the young lady; and universally admired for the delicacy and perfection of the workmanship. Nothing now remained to prevent the accomplishment of the noble youth's wishes, and the marriage was solemnized to the satisfaction of all parties.

The young couple lived several years in affluence, and seemed, by their virtues and moderation, to have secured the favors of fortune. But the ravages of war, at length, extended themselves to the Palatinate Both the families were driven from the country, and their estates forfeited. And now opens a most interesting scene.

The young nobleman commenced his trade of basket-making; and, by his superior skill in the art, soon commanded extensive business. For many years, he liberally supported, not only his own family, but also that of the good old nobleman, his father-in-law; and enjoyed the high satisfaction of contributing, by his own industry, to the happiness of connexions doubly endeared to him by their misfortunes, and who otherwise would have sunk into the miseries of neglect and indigence, sharpened by the remembrance of better days.

LESSON THIRTY-EIGHTH.
The Dying Christian.

VITAL spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, O quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,

O the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

Hark! they whisper; angels say,
"Sister spirit, come away.
What is this absorbs me quite;
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

The world recedes; it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?

O Death! where is thy sting?

Mary possessed few qualities either estimable or amiable. Her person was as little engaging as her manner. And, amidst the complication of vices which entered into her composition, obstinacy, bigotry, violence, cruelty, we scarcely find any virtue but sincerity; unless we add vigor of mind, a quality which seems to have been inherent in her family. During this queen's reign, persecution for religion was carried to the most terrible height. The mild counsels of Cardinal Pole, who was inclined to toleration, were overruled by Gardner and Bonner, and multitudes of all conditions, ages, and sexes, were committed to the flames.

The persecutors began with Rogers, prebendary of St. Paul's, a man equally distinguished by his piety

and learning, but whose domestic situation, it was hoped, would bring him to compliance. He had a wife, whom he tenderly loved, and ten children; yet did he continue firm in his principles. And such was his serenity after condemnation, that the jailers, it is said, awaked him from a sound sleep, when the hour of his execution approached. He suffered at Smithfield.

Hooper, bishop of Gloucester, was condemned at the same time with Rogers, but was sent to his own diocess to be punished, in order to strike the greater terror into his flock. His constancy at his death, however, had a very contrary effect. It was a scene of consolation to Hooper, to die in their sight, bearing testimony to that doctrine which he had formerly taught among them. And he continued to exhort them, till his tongue, swollen by the violence of his agony, denied him utterance.

Ferrar, bishop of St. David's, also suffered this terrible punishment in his own diocess; and Ridley, bishop of London, and Latimer, formerly bishop of Worcester, two prelates, venerable by their years, their learning and their piety, perished together in the same fire at Oxford, supporting each other's constancy by their mutual exhortations. Latimer, when tied to the stake, called to his companion, "Be of good cheer, my brother; we shall this day kindle such a flame in England, as, I trust in God, will never be extinguished."

Sanders, a respectable clergyman, was committed to the flames at Coventry. A pardon was offered him, if he would recant; but he rejected it with disdain, and embraced the stake, saying, "Welcome, cross of Christ! welcome, everlasting life!"

Cranmer had less courage at first. Terrined by the prospect of those tortures which awaited him, or overcome by the fond love of life, and by the flattery of artful men, who pompously represented the digni

ties to which his character still entitled him, if he would merit them by a recantation, he agreed, in an unguarded hour, to subscribe to the doctrines of the papal supremacy, and the real presence.

But the court, no less perfidious than cruel, determined that this recantation should avail him nothing; that he should acknowledge his errors in the church, before the people, and afterwards be led to execution. Whether Cranmer received secret intelligence of their design, or repented of his weakness, or both, is uncertain; but he surprised the audience by a declaration, very different from what was expected.

After explaining his sense of what he owed to Goa and his sovereign, "There is one miscarriage in my life," said he, "of which, above all others, I severely repent; and that is, the insincere declaration of faith, to which I had the weakness to subscribe. But I take this opportunity of atoning for my error, by a sincere and open recantation; and am willing to seal with my blood that doctrine, which I firmly believe to be communicated from heaven."

As his hand, he added, had erred, by betraying his heart, it should first be punished, by a severe, but just doom. He accordingly stretched it out, as soon as he came to the stake; and, without discovering, either by his looks or motions, the least sign of weakness, or even feeling, he held it in the flames till it was entirely consumed.

His thoughts, to use the words of an elegant and learned historian, appeared to be totally occupied in reflecting on his former faults; and he called aloud several times, "This hand has offended! this wicked hand has offended!" When it dropped off, he discovered a serenity in his countenance, as if satisfied with sacrificing to divine justice the instrument of his crime. And when the fire attacked his body, his soul, totally collected within itself, seemed superior to every external accident, and altogether inaccessible to pain.

LESSON FORTIETH.
The Orphan.

Where shall the child of sorrow find
A place for calm repose?
Thou Father of the fatherless,
Pity the orphan's woes.

What friend have I in heaven or earth,
What friend to trust, but thee?
My father's dead, my mother's dead,
My God, remember me!

Thy gracious promise now fulfil,
And bid
my troubles cease;

In thee the fatherless shall find
Both mercy, grace, and peace.

I've not a secret care or pain,
But he that secret knows-
Thou Father of the fatherless,
Pity the orphan's woes!

It was customary for those who were unable to pay sixpence for the sight of the wild beasts in the Tower, to bring a dog or a cat, as a gift to the beasts, in lieu of money to the keeper. Among others, a man had brought a pretty black spaniel, which was thrown into the cage of the great lion. Immediately the little animal trembled and shivered, crouched, and threw itself on its back, put forth its tongue, and held up its paws, as if praying for mercy.

In the meantime, the lion, instead of devouring it,