popular at court as a preacher, but could never be prevailed upon to resume his Episcopal functions. In Mary's reign, when measures were taken for the restoration of Popery, Latimer was summoned before the council, and although allowed an opportunity to escape, he readily obeyed the citation, exclaiming as he passed through Smithfield, 'This place has long groaned for me. After a tedious imprisonment, he still persisted in refusing to subscribe to certain articles which were submitted to him; and he and Ridley, bishop of London, were led to the stake together at Oxford, and committed to the flames on the 16th of October, 1555. On their way to their execution Latimer exclaimed to his fellow-martyr, 'Be of good comfort Doctor Ridley, and play the man: we shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.' Thus died bishop Latimer, one of the leaders of that glorious army of martyrs who successfully introduced the reformation into England.

Latimer's sermons, his only literary preformances, are remarkable for a familiarity and drollery of style, which, though it would now be considered very singular in the pulpit, was highly popular in his own time, and produced a wonderful impression upon his hearers. He was also chiefly instrumental in effecting a great improvement in the quality of clerical discourses, by substituting topics connected with moral duties for those incredible and often ridiculous legendary tales of saints and martyrs, which was at that time the common subject-matter of sermons.

The following extracts from his discourses will afford a pretty correct idea of his style, and peculiar manner of preaching

HASTY JUDGMENT.

Here I have occasion to tell you a story which happened at Cambridge. Master Bilney, or rather Saint Bilney, that suffered death for God's word's sake, the same Bilney was the instrument whereby God called me to knowledge, for I may thank him, next to God, for that knowledge that I have in the word of God. For I was as obstinate a papist as any was in England, insomuch that, when I should be made Bachelor of Divinity, my whole oration went against Philip Melancthon and against his opinions. Bilney heard me at that time, and perceived that I was zealous without knowledge; he came to me afterward in my study, and desired me for God's sake to hear his confession; I did so; and, to say the very truth, by his confession I learned more than before in many years; so from that time forward I began to smell the word of God, and forsook the school-doctors and such foolerics.

Now after I had been acquainted with him, I went with him to visit the prisoners in the tower at Cambridge, for he was ever visiting prisoners and sick folk. So we went together, and exhorted them as well as we were able to do; minding them to patience, and to acknowledge their faults. Among other prisoners, there was a woman which was accused that she had killed her child, which act she plainly and steadfastly denied, and could not be brought to confess the act; which denying gave us occasion to search for the matter, and so we did; and at length we found that her husband loved her not, and therefore he sought means to make her out of the way. The matter was thus:-A child of hers had been sick by the space of a year, and so decayed, as it were, in a consumption. At length it died in harvest-time ; she went to her neighbours and other friends to desire their help to prepare the child for burial; but there was nobody at home, every man was in the field. The woman,

in a heaviness and trouble of spirit, went, and being herself alone, prepared the child for burial. Her husband coming home, not having great love toward her, accused her of the murder, and so she was taken and brought to Cambridge. But as far forth as I could learn, through earnest inquisition, I thought in my conscience the woman was not guilty, all the circumstances well considered.

Immediately after this I was called to preach before the king, which was my first sermon that I made before his majesty, and it was done at Windsor; where his majesty, after the sermon was done, did most familiarly talk with me in a gallery. Now, when I saw my time, I kneeled down before his majesty, opening the whole matter, and afterward most humbly desired his majesty to pardon that woman. For I thought in my conscience she was not guilty, or else I would not for all the world sue for a murderer. The king most graciously heard my humble request, insomuch that I had a pardon ready for her at my returning homeward. In the mean season, that woman was delivered of a child in the town of Cambridge, whose god-father I was, and Mistress Cheek was god-mother. But all that time I hid my pardon, and told her nothing of it, only exhorting her to confess the truth. At length the time came when she looked to suffer; I came as I was wont to do, to instruct her; she made great moan to me. So we travailed with this woman till we brought her to a good opinion; and at length showed her the king's pardon, and let her go.

This tale I told you by this occasion, that though some women be very unnatural, and forget their children, yet when we hear any body so report, we should not be too hasty in believing the tale, but rather suspend our judgments till we know the truth.

THE SHEPHERDS OF BETHLEHEM.

I pray you to whom was the nativity of Christ first opened? To the bishops or great lords which were at this time at Bethlehem? Or to those jolly damsels with their fardingales, with their round-abouts, or with their bracelets? No, no, they had too many lets to trim and dress themselves, so that they could have no time to hear of the nativity of Christ; their minds were so occupied otherwise, that they were not allowed to hear of him. But his nativity was revealed first by the Shepherds, and it was revealed unto them in the night-time, when every body was at rest; then they heard this joyful tidings of the Saviour of the world; for these shepherds were keeping their sheep in the night season from the wolf and other beasts, and from the fox; for the sheep in that country do lamb two times in a year, and therefore it was needful for the sheep to have a shepherd to keep them. And here note the diligence of these shepherds; for whether the sheep were their own, or whether they were servants, I can not tell, for it is not expressed in the book; but it is most like they were servants, and their masters had put them in trust to keep their sheep. Now, if these shepherds had been deceitful fellows, that when their masters had put them in trust to keep their sheep, they had been drinking in the ale-house all night, as some of our servants do now-a-days, surely the angel had not appeared unto them to have told them this great joy and good tidings. And here all servants may learn by these shepherds, to serve truly and diligently unto their masters; in what business soever they are set to do, let them be painful and diligent like as Jacob was unto his master Laban.

Now these shepherds, I say, they watch the whole night, they attend upon their vocation, they do according to their calling, they keep their sheep, they run not hither and thither spending the time in vain, and neglecting their office and calling No, they did not so. Here by these shepherds men may learn to attend upon their offices and callings: I would wish that clergymen, the curates, parsons, and vicars, the bishops and all other spiritual persons, would learn this lesson by these poor shepherds; which is this, to abide by their flocks, and by their sheep, to tarry among

them, to be careful over them, not to run hither and thither after their own pleasure, but to tarry by their benefices and feed their sheep with the food of God's word, and to keep hospitality, and so to feed them both soul and body. For I tell you, these poor unlearned shepherds shall condemn many a stout and great learned clerk; for these shepherds had but the care and charge over brute beasts, and yet were diligent to keep them, and to feed them, and the other have the cure over God's lambs which he bought with the death of his son, and yet they are so careless, so negligent, so slothful over them; yea, and the most part intendeth not to feed the sheep, but they long to be fed of the sheep; they seek only their own pastimes, they care for no more. But, what said Christ to Peter? What said he? Petre, amas me? (Peter, lovest thou me ?) Peter made answer, yes. Then feed my sheep. And so the third time he commanded Peter to feed his sheep. But our clergymen do declare plainly that they love not Christ, because they feed not his flock. If they had earnest love to Christ, no doubt they would show their love, they would feed his sheep. *

*

'And the shepherds returned lauding and praising God, for all the things that they had heard and seen,' &c. They were not made religious men, but returned again to their business and to their occupation. Here we learn every man to follow his occupation and his vocation, and not to leave the same, except God call him from it to another, for God would have every man to live in that order that he hath ordained for him. And no doubt the man that plieth his occupation truly, without any fraud or deceit, the same is acceptable to God, and he shall have everlasting life.

We shall close our present remarks with a brief sketch of Bale, the celebrated Bishop of Ossory, in Ireland.

JOHN BALE was born at Cove, Suffolk, in 1495. His parents being in narrow circumstances, he was sent, when only twelve years of age to the monastery of Camelites in Norwich, and moved, a few years after, to Jesus College, Cambridge. His whole education, both in school and at college, was strictly in accordance with the doctrines and practices of the Romish church, but before he entered into orders he became a devoted Protestant. He informs us in reference to this change, 'that he was involved in the utmost ignorance and darkness of mind, both at Norwich and Cambridge, till the word of God shining forth, the churches began to return to the true fountains of divinity. That the instrument of his conversion was not a priest or a monk, but the most noble Earl of Wentworth.' His conversion, however, exposed him to the severest persecutions from the Romish clergy, and he would doubtless have felt the full force of their resentment had he not been protected by Lord Cromwell, one of Henry the Eighth's principal favorites. But after the death of that nobleman, Bale was obliged to take refuge in Holland, where he remained for six years. When Edward the Sixth ascended the throne, he was recalled by that youthful monarch to England, and on the 15th of August, 1552, nominated to the See of Ossory in Ireland. Upon his arrival in that country, he immediately began to introduce such reformations in his diocess as would have a tendency to correct the extensive abuses which there prevailed, particularly the vicious and irregular lives of the priests; but all his schemes were frustrated by the premature death of Edward, and the accession of Mary to the throne. The

priests of Ossory now resolved to retaliate upon their bishop; and while they were endeavoring to compass his death, he fled once more to Holland, and thence passed to Basil in Switzerland, where he remained until Mary's death. In the beginning of Elizabeth's reign, he returned from exile, but instead of resuming the duties of bishop of Ossory, he became prebend of Canterbury, and in this office remained until his death, which occurred in the month of November, 1563, and in the sixty-eighth year of his age.

Bale was the author of many severe and intemperate tracts against popery; but his most celebrated production is an Account, in Latin, of Lives of Eminent Writers of Great Britain, extending from Japhet, one the sons of Noah, to the year 1557. He left, also, many curious metrica productions in the English language, including several dramatic pieces on sacred subjects, which to a modern taste appear utterly burlesque. Among these are plays on John the Baptist's preaching; on The childhood, temptation, passion, and resurrection of Christ; on The Lord's Supper, The washing of the disciples' feet, and on God's promises-the performance of all of which formed a part of the exercises of the Sabbath, at Kilkenny, during Bale's residence in Ireland. In 1544, he published a Brefe Chronycle concernynge the Examinacyon and Death of Sir John Oldecastell the Lorde Cobham, from which we extract the account of Cobham's death. Cobham was executed in 1417, in the reign of Henry the Fifth, for supporting the doctrines of Wickliffe, and was the first martyr among the English nobility.

DEATH OF LORD COBHAM.

Upon the day appointed, he was brought out of the Tower with his arms bound behind him, having a very cheerful countenance. Then was he laid upon a hurdle, as though he had been a most heinous traitor to the crown, and so drawn forth into Saint Giles' Field, where as they had set up a new pair of gallows. As he was coming to the place of execution, and was taken from the hurdle, he fell down devoutly upon his knees, desiring Almighty God to forgive his enemies. Than stood he up, and beheld the multitude, exhorting them in most godly manner to follow the laws of God written in the Scriptures, and in any wise to beware of such teachers as they see contrary to Christ in their conversation and living, with many other special counsels. Then he was hanged up there by the middle in chains of iron, and so consumed alive in the fire, praising the name of God, so long as his life lasted. In the end he commended his soul into the hand of God, and so departed hence most Christenly, his body resolved into ashes,