have searched in vain for some notice or relic among the antiquities of the place. Within the walls of that building did the faithful meet on that cold December morning, under pretence, as it appears, of witnessing a play, some mystery in all likelihood—such as the Coventry, or Chester plays, in which sacred stories were acted by monks and others. But the guards soon appeared. Rough and the deacon, Cuthbert Simpson, were seized, carried before the council, and at length condemned to die. "Stand constant to the end," said this faithful martyr to his flock, "then shall ye possess your souls. Salute one another in my name. I go before. The Spirit of God guide you in and out, rising and sitting, cover you with the shadow of his wing, defend you against the tyranny of the wicked, and bring you happily to the port of eternal felicity, where all tears shall be wiped from your eyes, and you shall always abide with the Lamb." On the 21st of December he was burnt in Smithfield.

The remembrance of his piety, of his apprehension, and his martyrdom, which perhaps some of them had witnessed, is fresh in the minds of the congregation gathered in the retired close by the town of Islington; but fidelity to conscience and to God will not allow them to forsake the assembling of themselves together. They are, for the most part, humble in circumstances,-apprentices, artisans, plain honest housewives, but we recognize in them God's true nobility. They have noble, independent souls; independent of man's authority, but most religiously obedient to the authority of God. They cannot suffer their conscience to be ensnared by worldly advantage, nor will they let it be crushed by worldly power. They are exceptions to the fashion of the times. "Religion," says the Venetian Ambassador in England, writing home about this time, "though apparently thriving in this country, is,

1 apprehend, in some degree the offspring of dissimulation. Generally speaking, your Serene Highness may rest assured, that with the English the example and authority of the sovereign is every thing, and religion is only so far valued as it inculcates the duty due from the subject to the prince. They love as he loves; believe as he believes. They would be full as zealous followers of the Mahometan and Jewish religions, did the king prefer either." The charge is no doubt too true, but the Venetian Ambassador knows not of the faithful-hearted ones of the secret congregation; and did he know them, in all probability, while he excused the mass for their pliability, he would condemn these noble exceptions as obstinate enthusiasts.

But let us watch the fate of this little company. They have not been there long, occupied in holy duties, and absorbed in the realities of eternity, when the sound of footsteps, and a suspicious-looking stranger, leaning over the hedge which incloses the field, startle the party. "Good morning," says the stranger, "you look like men who mean no hurt.” "Can you tell us," asks one of the congregation, “whose close this is, and whether we may be so bold as to sit here?" "Yes," he rejoins," you seem to me such persons as mean no harm;" and leaves them with hearts palpitating between hope and fear. The nature of the visit just paid them is soon determined. In a quarter of an hour appears King the constable, followed by six or seven men, armed with bill and bow, who tarry a short distance behind, in a retired nook, where they are not seen. The officer advances, enters the circle, and commands the worshippers to show him their books, which they forthwith deliver. The reserve guard are summoned, and proceed at once to apprehend the party. "We are obedient, and ready to go with you," they meekly reply. Immediately they are conducted to a brewhouse, a little

way off, and some of the constable's men are dispatched to fetch the justice. The justice is not at home, and they must therefore be taken to Sir Roger Chomley.* Twentyseven are arraigned before his worship, the rest having escaped from the clutches of the constables on their way; of one of these Foxe relates the following tale :-“ The people coming very thick did cut off some of them, to the number of eight, which were behind, of whom was Bennet. Then he knocking at the gate to come in, (Sir Roger Chomley's,) the porter said that he was none of the company.' He said 'yes,' and knocked again. Then there stood by one of the congregation, named Johnson, dwelling now at Hammersmith, which said, 'Edward, thou hast done well, do not tempt God, go thy way.' And so taking the warning as sent of God, with a quiet conscience eschewed burning."+ Out of the twenty-seven, twenty-two were sent to Newgate.

About seven weeks passed before any of them were examined; and during that period, at Whitsuntide, two of them were released from their sufferings by the hand of death. Of the remaining twenty only seven escaped with their lives, and some of them not without cruel scourging. "The right picture and true counterfeit of Boner and his cruelty, in scourging of God's saints in his gardens at Fulham,”—that old wood-cut in Foxe, representing the prelate with his rods lashing his victims, upon which our eyes in boyhood looked with so much terror and just indignation, relates to one of these Islington Congregationalists. On the 17th June, Corpus Christi day, a famous feast in the London of the olden time, when flags and garlands and rich tapestries adorned the streets, and the citizens entertained themselves with mirth and music, -the infamous proceedings of Bishop Bonner's Ecclesias† Foxe, ii. 1882.

*See Note [2].

tical Court stand out in dark and fearful contrast. Seven of the prisoners were arraigned before him. The charges were contained in thirteen articles, amounting to the accusation, that they had forsaken the churches, neglected the mass and other religious rites and customs; had not allowed the Latin service; had used King Edward's Book of Common Prayer, and had gone in the time of divine service into the fields and profane places to read English Psalms and certain English books. To these charges they pleaded "guilty ;" but three of the accused were prepared to admit that the Latin service, as far as it agrees with God's word, may be allowed to those who understand the language. They were examined separately; and required to reconcile themselves to the Roman Church by recanting their alleged heresies, which they refused to do, and, as a matter of course, were consigned over to the secular magistrate to be executed at the stake.

One of these martyrs, whom Foxe especially notices, was Roger Holland, a merchant tailor of London, who in early life had been a profligate character, but was reclaimed by a young woman of singular piety, who had shown him great kindness, and whom he afterwards married. With the zeal of a new convert, he sought the spiritual welfare of his relatives, and repaired to his father in Lancashire with "divers good books;" so that his parents tasted of the Gospel, and began to detest the mass, idolatry, and superstition, to the no small joy of the youthful Roger. Before his apprehension at Islington, he had felt the weight of Rome's injustice, for having had his firstborn child christened in his house, and for going into the country to convey the babe away," that the Papists should not have it in their anointing hands." For these crimes his goods were seized and confiscated, and his wife cruelly used. The examination of this remarkable man is

deeply interesting. He confesses that he had been a Papist the strictest of the sect—and bears testimony to the fact, of which the whole history of the Roman Catholic Church, especially in the middle ages, presents an immense mass of examples,-that the effect of a strict observance of its outward rites was to encourage the indulgence of all kinds of immorality; "albeit," he says, “I could not eat meat on the Friday, yet in swearing, drinking, or dicing, all the night long, I made no conscience at all." His Protestantism was as intelligent as it was firm, and he proved himself a theological antagonist such as Bonner found it easier to answer by firebrands than by arguments. "The antiquity of our Church," says this dauntless member of the congregation, "is not from Pope Nicholas or Pope Joan, but our Church is from the beginning, even from the time that God said unto Adam, that the seed of the woman should break the serpent's head; and so to faithful Noah, and all the holy fathers that were from the beginning. All they that believed these promises were of the Church, though the numbers were oftentimes but few and small, as in Elias's days, when he thought there was none but he that had not bowed their knees to Baal, when God had observed seven thousand that never had bowed their knees to that idol: as I trust there be seven hundred thousand more than I know of that have not bowed their knees to the idol, your mass, and your god Maozim. For the upholding of your Church and religion what antiquity can you show? yea, the mass, that idol and chief pillar of your religion, is not four hundred years old, and some of your masses are younger, as that mass of St. Thomas à Becket, the traitor, wherein you pray that you may be saved by the blood of St. Thomas. So crafty is Satan to devise these his dreams, which you defend with faggot and fire, to quench the light of the word of