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"I believe thee,” replied Harding; "for thou wert ever known for having a gentle nature. But the sooner thy duty is done the better; so I pray thee to lead me away, Sir Sheriff, for I shall be glad of solitude."

Sir Richard made his obeisance to the court of ecclesiastics, and taking his station by the side of his prisoner, conducted him from the hall, and through a court, surrounded by arched cloisters. In the right-hand corner of this quadrangle was a long, covered passage, leading to the basement chamber of one of the pepper-box turrets that flanked the outer court of the abbey; it was small, but not in other respects inconvenient, being dry and clean, and was partially lighted by an arrow-slit window high up in the wall. This chamber was usually called the Abbot's prison, and was now destined to afford a temporary lodging to many an obstinate free-thinker. The sheriff apologised to Harding for its darksome aspect and small convenience, and withdrew, having seen his men secure the door with bolts and bars, and leaving one of them as a sentinel, walking, harquebuss in hand, up and down the long passage.

The sheriff withdrew to partake of a collation in the refectory, where he found the Bishop and the Clergy assembled, with most of the persons of note who had been present at the trial. The conversation, in the intervals of discussing the Abbot's good cheer, ran chiefly on the occurrence of the morning; and a similar case was much talked of, which had lately happened at Norwich, when Nix, the Bishop of that see, had taken the law into his own hands, and inflicted capital punishment on one of his Clergy, for the same offence as Harding's.

The conversation was carried on with great animation, some of the Priests who had witnessed the occurrences being eager to tell, and the country gentlemen to hear the particulars of the dismal tragedy. Two persons alone did not join in it, they were Messenger and the Prior; the one having probably heard every circumstance detailed many times before, and the other most likely was too much oppressed with perplexing and melancholy thoughts, to venture any remarks on so dangerous a subject. Messenger quitted the company as soon as the entertainment was over; while the Prior was observed to rise up from the table, as if with the same intention. But as he passed Sir Richard Dayrell near the entrance of the apartment, he drew him aside, and craved his permission to visit his prisoner before he should depart. The sheriff signified his ready assent, and summoning one of his retainers, desired him to conduct the Prior to Harding's place of confinement.




ALL "in one Place," and "all with one accord"!"
Fair image of the primal Pentecost,

When, Source of truth and love, the HOLY GHOST
Came down on the disciples of the LORD!
England! on every gale of doctrine tost,

Yet vaunting still "The Word alone! the Word !"
While bursting for each toy its gentle cord,-
Here, in a village of thine own, thy boast
In humbled shame unlearn. The Whitsun flowers,
That, unreprov'd, o'er nave and chancel twine,
To where, of roses wrought, the white Cross towers,
Chant with one voice: "We worship at one shrine:
How should we not? one life, one GOD, is ours;
Do thou as we: for our one GoD is thine."

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Vespers are o'er, and back our steps we bend.
Massive and deep athwart the sunlit lawn
The stretching shades of stately trees descend:
The heron's call, the bellings of the fawn
Solemn and soft with choral memories blend :

Groups, as by Creswick's poet pencil drawn,
Calm lingering, homeward by the green path wend,
In peace to slumber till the peaceful dawn.
Nature and Man seem instinct with one will-

His will, the Author of them both-one frame,
One Spirit, one hope, are here: proclaiming still
One LORD, one Faith, one Baptism in one Name,
One GoD and Sire of all, Who all doth fill,
Ever o'er all, through all, in all the same.



England! were all like this, what might'st thou be!
Light of the heathen! glory of the saints!
Not moaning listless while some talker paints
The darkling Pagan's guilt and misery,-
But sending forth the Truth that makes men free!
Not weakly murmuring wild and vain complaints
Of vice and crime at home, while Discord taints
All schemes remedial; but in energy

Of union, tearing up the envenom'd root,

And planting love, truth, unity instead!
Not scattering tales and names of ill repute
On the best sons and daughters thou hast bred,
But sharing their true labour and its fruit.
One body, govern'd by one heavenly Head!

* Brockley is a picturesque Church in Somersetshire, very beautifully situated. The parish has the peculiarity (alas! that such should be the word !) of having no dissenting place of worship. The service is choral, and very numerously attended. (See Vol. IX. of the Churchman's Companion.)



Father of love, Thou Who Thyself art love!

Who on this flock, as on Thy Church of old,
Hast sent Thy Spirit of union from above,
Make our beloved fatherland one fold!
And Thou, Who didst upon the waters move,

Beauty and order from the dark and cold
Calling to being,-ever blessed Dove!
With pitying eye our chaos drear behold!
And Thou, the eternal "bright and morning Star !"
Who in Thy night of agony didst pray,

"FATHER, may they be one, even as We are!"
Unite us,-ere the irrevocable Day

Repentance and return for ever bar,-
In the one GOD, to walk the one true way!

Rectory, Wrington,
Whitsuntide, 1852.

H. T.


(Continued from Vol. XI., page 167.)

"DULL for an hour and mad for a minute" has been said of a horse-race-it seems equally applicable to the life of a sailor in time of peace. Fred, poor fellow, made the most of his minute ashore, and now it is past and gone. I am just come from witnessing his departure-I may say from taking a prominent part, for I cannot yield to any in regret for his loss-not even to mamma, who, much against her will, poor dear, bestowed her kissings and blessings within doors. By reason of an obstinate sore-throat, she had been strictly cautioned against standing at the hall-door, through which there piped that ill-conditioned wind (due east,) on which nobody has a good word to bestow, though I doubt not that, like everything else sent us by an ever-merciful Creator, it has its beneficial purposes. We, at all events, thought not of them, but stood on those steps, without bonnet or shawl, intent only on securing the last glimpse of our "winsome laddie" -all but papa, who I must say for him is so good a son of the Church, that her faintest accent prevails with him above the loudest pleadings of natural affection. He knows that, indulgent as she is to all our human sympathies, she, nevertheless, like a wise parent, requires their instant sacrifice to the claims of duty; or, according to his own more simple version, "John Woodman is worse, I hear, and has inquired for me, so I shall not be able to see Fred off; poor fellow ! give him my blessing." With these two important exceptions, every member of the household, gentle and

simple, gathered round to bid "GOD speed" to one who is the acknowledged darling of all. Most wistfully did we eye the gig which stood ready to convey him to the place whence the coach starts-all, I mean, except his destined driver, who flourished his whip about a great deal more than there was any need for, seeming to express by his smirking looks, "Now I shall have him all to myself." Septy, pretty soul! sobbed aloud, and could only be tolerably comforted by a drive up and down the gravel-walk; while Willie's manhood strove in vain to keep back the gathering tears. With his hands working round his side pockets, that resource in time of need, he turned away, pretending to be studying the weather. Aunt Mary and the two elder sisters were quite as ready to cry as the rest, only it seemed right to restrain the expression of their own feelings, not to daunt the brave heart which it was plain to see had enough to do to keep up under the prospect of another three or four years' separation from home and kindred. To employ one of our expressive county-idioms, it was "busy all"—all his ardour in his profession, all his love of locomotion, especially that form of it most delightful to boyhood, driving a gig, to enable him to maintain his brave bearing to the last; but we are not come to that yet; it remains to be told how old Debby, the nurse, flung her trembling arms round his neck, with a patriarchal freedom which might have become her namesake who reposes beneath the oak at Bethel; while his less sentimental admirer Cook availed herself of the crisis to cram another half-cake into the poor fellow's pocket. But what were all these demonstrations of love in comparison of the affectionate distress discernible in the countenance of Cherry, the housemaid, whose eyes ran over with tears, or, to speak literally, whose eye, for the poor good creature has but one, whereby hangs a piteous tale, which I intend to relate hereafter, as it especially concerns my present hero, and without which his peculiarly tender mode of bidding her adieu might seem a little out of course.

"Keep up a good heart, Cherry dear; I shall be back again soon, with a heart as sound as a biscuit, and an epaulette on each shoulder, who knows? and then-if you can ship a rough tar


"Only to hark to 'un!" said Cherry, smiling admiringly through

her tears.

I am too proud of my own parting compliment to omit that"Good-bye, Aunt Mary,-mind you let me find you when I come back, sticking like a barnacle to the old plank—what should we do without you?"

All these kind words he confirmed by as cordial a hug, of which last having bestowed one round the circle, he sprang into the gig the wrong side of course-snatched whip and reins from the admiring groom, applied them vigorously, but in such a zig-zag fashion, looking back all the while, that, as I expected, he carried

away the scraper with him. Many tearful eyes followed him to the latest glimpse; but long before a turn in the road had shut him from our sight, it was plain to see, by his mad rollicking gestures, that he had disposed of his own parting regrets. He flourished the usurped whip, threw it up in the air, caught it again; lost his hat, recovered it; jumped on the cushion-once actually on the flank of the carriage-horse, with a skyrocket-Jack facility, which it is for us landfolk to admire, but never to imitate.

"Pity sailors are such thoughtless beings!" was my first reflection; "but how else are our fleets to be manned?" was the next. We were obliged to forget awhile our individual regrets, in an endeavour to comfort poor old Nurse, who continued to occupy the chair some one had brought from the lobby, and placed her in bon gré mal gré. There she sat, looking more like the Widow of Tekoah, by the by, than her namesake of sacred memory to whom I have compared her.

“Why, Nurse !” said Helen, laying her arm coaxingly across the good old creature's shoulder, "are not there enough of us left to 'teaze the very life out of you,' that you must go on breaking your heart for one, and he such a Ne'er-do-weel?' You don't think any of us worth a pin, that's very plain to be seen.”

Helen's wheedling gestures and tone called back half a smile to the mourner's venerable face, as she passed her trembling fingers caressingly along the glossy curls, of which she felt prouder than, in her best days, she had been of her own. It was a pretty group. On the other side Gertrude had slid down on her knees, so as to bring herself within whispering reach of Nurse's ear, just to tell her that she had that morning cut off one of Fred's templecurls, which was forthwith to be enclosed in "a real-gold locket," and presented to her to keep for his sake. On the whole, Nurse resumed her seat by the nursery fire-side in a less despairing frame of mind; and though all through the remainder of the day she continued to maunder on her conviction, that her "old eyes would never more look upon the blessed face of him," her tone grew less and less despairing, till it was plain to see she didn't believe her own prediction. They told her, besides, that the post now-a-days travelled so rapidly, she might hope to hear of his arrival at Portsmouth in two or three days, on which she made up her long quarrel with steam, which up to this time she had held, with all other newfangled inventions, in most orthodox abhorrence. It was pretty to observe Willie's assiduous efforts to amuse her during the rest of the day, and little Septy's occasional pauses in the midst of her play, to hold up her rose-bud of a mouth to be kissed. These are the sweet compensations which avail to repay the hardest labour woman can perform—the rearing, watchfully, faithfully, and in quick succession, a numerous family of children. It had by no means been Debby's easiest task to manage this same Fred

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