To these, we cannot resist the temptation of adding the following beautiful little Poem, although we are aware that Raleigh's claims as its author are not ascertained with certainty.

"Shall I, like a hermit, dwell
On a rock, or in a cell,
Calling home the smallest part
That is missing of my heart,
To bestow it where I may
Meet a rival every day?
If she undervalue me,

What care I how fair she be ?

Were her tresses angel gold,
If a stranger may be bold,
Unrebuked, unafraid,

To convert them to a braid,
And with little more ado

Work them into bracelets, too;
If the mine be grown so free,
What care I how rich it be?

Were her hand as rich a prize
As her hairs, or precious eyes,
If she lay them out to take
Kisses, for good manners' sake:
And let every lover skip
From her hand unto her lip;

If she seem not chaste to me,
What care I how chaste she be?

No; she must be perfect snow,
In effect as well as show;
Warming but as snow-balls do,
Not, like fire, by burning too;
But when she by change hath got
To her heart a second lot,

Then, if others share with me,

Farewell her, whate'er she be !"

EXECUTION OF SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

THE pitiful weakness evinced by King James the First, in sacrificing to the jealousy of a foreign Court the life of so distinguished and deserving a man as Raleigh, has ever been regarded with feelings of horror and indignation. The manner, too, in which this was effected is such as to brand with infamy all who had any share in the barbarous transaction.

The original conviction, on which, after a lapse of fifteen years, and a virtual, if not legal, pardon subsequently granted, it was thought proper to order his execution, was, in itself, so palpably unjust, and so inconsistent with all law, as to cast a stain, which can never be effaced, on the character of Coke, the Attorney-General,

by whom he was prosecuted, not with the sober and temperate zeal of a public accuser, but with the hatred and malignity of a personal and inveterate foe. And who can think of the base conduct of Lord Bacon, whose splendid talents have merited the reputation of the first Philosopher of modern days, but whose character is for ever sullied by the meanness, dissimulation, craft, and avarice, by which his public life was uninterruptedly marked, without experiencing the deepest feelings of disgust at so degrading a prostitution of talents so conspicuous, to purposes so unworthy? It was this man who, when Raleigh was about to depart on his last ill-fated expedition, advised him to decline the grant of a formal pardon, which was offered him for £700, saying; "Sir, the knee-timber of your voyage is money. Spare your purse in this particular; for, upon my life, you have a sufficient pardon for all that is past already; the King having, under his broad seal, made you Admiral of your fleet, and given you power of martial law over your officers and soldiers." And it was this man who, on his return, as appears "Dr. Birch's Original Letters," urged the

by

weak-minded James to take him off on his old sentence for treason, as the only judicial way of proceeding against him.

When, on his return to Plymouth, Raleigh was taken into custody, he wrote a pathetic letter to James, in which he stated the circumstances of his case in a clear and just light. But James was not to be moved by considerations of justice or compassion; and his situation, at length, grew so dangerous, that yielding to the urgent intreaties of his friends, he attempted to make his escape; but he entered into this scheme with so little cordiality, that even after he had got into the boat which was to convey him to a vessel secured for the purpose, he surrendered himself. Being, afterwards, convinced that his fate was determined on, he applied, in a fit of despair, to one Manowrie, a quack, to assist him in a second attempt. In order to effect this, Manowrie gave him drugs which flung out, upon the whole surface of his body, innumerable blotches and boils, and Raleigh, to forward the success of the plan, condescended, it is said, to many unmanly meannesses. These so far prevailed, that, on account of his apparent ill state of health, he was suffered to

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repair to his own house; but Manowrie betrayed the secret to Stuekly, his inveterate keeper, who, though a near relation, had been employed by the Court, first to inveigle Raleigh to land, and afterwards to guard him. This infamous wretch, in consequence of private orders, appeared to encourage the design, and received a considerable sum of money from Raleigh to forward it; indeed, his treacherous dissimulation was carried so far that he actually accompanied his prisoner into a boat, which was immediately beset by the officers of the Court, and Stuekly had the hardened assurance to own the deceit, and carried his kinsman to the Tower. He soon, however, reaped the just reward of his crimes, for he was taken in the fact of clipping the very coin which he had received in reward for his perfidy. He was condemned to be hanged for the offence, and was driven to the streight of selling his shirt to procure his pardon. He withdrew himself to an island in the Severn, where he died raving mad, in less than two years after Raleigh's

execution.

On the 28th of October, 1618, and in the sixty-sixth year of his age, Raleigh was taken