more surprised at the purport of his visit, which was to bear to Lord Guilford and Lady Jane a free pardon from the queen. Gardiner expressed his disapprobation of such a measure; and also his resentment against Pembroke, for urging the queen to a mercy and grace, so ill timed and hazardous, as thus to grant pardon to one who had dared to wear her crown and wrest the authority from her bands. In vain Pembroke pleaded Gardiner considered him only as a lover, and treated his remonstrances with cool contempt, declaring, proudly, that while he held the seal, no pardon should be granted to heretics or traitors; and immediately left him to seek the presence of Mary. Pembroke did not much regard the threats of the prelate, Mary's word was pledged and could not be revoked; and, exulting in the happy tidings he had to communicate, he hastened to the several apartments where the prisoners were confined. The beauteous Jane, who through the night had kept her watchful vigils, forgetful of this transient world, her whole soul bent on her approach to the realms of everlasting bliss, was now interrupted in her pure devotions by the sudden entrance of Guilford and Pembroke with the joyful news of the queen's pardon. Guilford was transported with the blissful tidings-and even Jane, though resigned to the will of Heaven, and prepared to bow her neck to the stroke of fate, was not insensible to the joys of life. Thes of her adored Guilford had aroused all the tender s of nature to live beloved was a hope, a transcendent hope of happiness, willingly to be admitted: and though death for Jane had few pangs, raised as her pure soul was above the common weakness of humanity, yet life had many charms, while Guilford, as the treasure and solace of that life, was spared to her. She knelt and poured out thanks to her Almighty Father, for this unexpected joy! but her ardent thanksgiv ings were interrupted by Gardiner, who came to confirm the gracious pardon of the queen, and to give more ample testimony of her grace and future favor. Her anxiety for their eternal peace was, he said, more an object with her than their present welfare; and she had therefore issued her royal mandate, that they should instantly renounce their heresy, and field obedience to the church of Rome! Guilford and Jane started at the idea of abjuring their faith, but Gardiner informed them, on such terms only could their pardon be confirmed!! "Tis false as hell," exclaimed the indignant Pembroke, "the mercy of the queen was given without restriction. It is thy base insidious arts have induced her to retract that full and free pardon granted to me; and canst thou dare to think, princes will so far forget their dignity and power, to barter their grace and favor, as Romish priests their pardons ?” Gardiner treated his violence and resentment with the most insulting coolness; and, deliberately showing him the signet of the queen, said he probably would not dispute its power, or presume to mistake her majesty's meaning. Pembroke flew to the queen, and found the treacherous report 100 true. Mary refused to fulfil her given word on any other terms than those already offered; and he had the agony of knowing that his beloved friends were led to the scaffold, without the power on his part to avert their dreadful doom! Guilford and Jane resisted all the insidious persuasions of Gardiner, to abjure their heresy, and preserve their lives. He indeed argued with that infuriated zeal, which so strongly marked the prelates of those dreadful times, but all in vain. Jane remained unmoved, and Guilford, inspired by her bright example, refused the conditional mercy offered; then clasp. ing again, and again, his tender partner to his breast, he exerted his utmost fortitude, and with a firm and steady step proceeded to the scaffold. The merciless prelate still continued his persecutions towards Jane; while she entreated him to leave her to herself: and permit her to empley, undisturbed, the few intervening moments which still remained between her and eternity. Gardiner at this became incensed and accused her of folly, perversion of judgment, and the sin of yielding her life for the confirmation of error! "Peace," she exclaimed, "I prithee, peace-ere we shall meet again, it will be truly known, who judge aright, or who persist in error! till then farewell." thy Wilt thou then die, die in the cause of cursed heresy-blood be on thy head!!" ; My blood be where it falls; let the earth hide Notwithstanding her calmness and resignation, Jane's fortitude was again put to a severe test, in parting from her weeping attendants; but she exhorted them to patience, and distributing some trifling gifts among them, embraced, and bade them an eternal farewell! As she passed along to the place of execution, she met the beadless body of her husband streaming with blood. She motioned with her hand, that the beares should stop awhile, and in silence they obeyed. She gazed on the lifeless form for a few moments-thea breathing a sigh, desired them to proceed; and calmly approached the scaffold. An awful stillness now prevailed ;-no sound disturbed the deathlike silence, save the bell tolling, at intervals, its solemn knell. When on the scaffold, she addressed the by-standers, saying-" that her offence was not that she had laid her hand upon the crown, her crime was that she had not rejected it with sufficient constancy. She had erred in filial obedience rather than from ambition; and willingly resigned herself to death, as the only atonement she had it in her power to make to the injured state! and she trusted her sentence would be as a warning to those who might hereafter tread in her steps; and prove that innocence is no just plea in extenuation of deeds, which and to injure the community." She then ordered herself e disrobed, and clasping her hands, she raised her eyes to heaven, ejaculated a short but fervent prayer, and bowed her devoted head to the murderous axe. So fare thee well, thou beauteous excellence; ENDURING AFFECTION. Love's a gentle, gen'rous passion, What are titles, pomp, or riches, Of the blissful state above. FAMILY TROUBLES. Let us no more contend, nor blame Milton. I am particularly pleased with the kind manner in which a certain agreeable family of my acquaintance transact trivial circumstances and conversations with each other. If any thing is wrong among the little ones, the sister corrects it with a persuasive voice. The mer's rebuke is gentleness itself, and yet instantly attended, and the children together are affectionate and social. Perhaps my admiration may have drawn my attention to what may not be deemed of importance to all my readers, although I know there must be some willing to leave, for a moment, the loftier events of the world, to muse upon this humble picture, just as a traveller among stupendous bridges, artificial roads, and gaudy palaces, will sometimes pause by a cottage in a secluded path-way, with nothing to recommend it but the simple beauty of peace and nature. One of the sweetest rewards of social endearments springs from the fact that the same participation of those we love which enhances our joys, also alleviates our sorrows. In the atmosphere of an affectionate home, therefore, the keen ar rows of the world are blunted, while the flowers which would, peradventure, elsewhere fade away neglected, here bloom with more vivid beauty, none of their fragrance wasted, or their delicate colors overlooked. As for me, when I withdraw from the merry circle or turn from the gay and crowded streets, I seem to shut myself up in a kind of tomb. There are no connecting links between me and the world, light steps break the perpetual stillness. No familiar voice sends its welcome joy through my veins, banishing weariness and gloom; and the pleasant thoughts which flash on me from my book are like gems found in the desert by a lonely pilgrim. No This is a subject which, however common place, is nevertheless materially connected with the comfort of mankind. You may, in a measure, estimate a man's happiness by his |