in the designs of our malignants, both abroad and at home. For the good of the country, I want to discover who they are and what are their plans."

The Fleming, with a resolved look, replied, “About such matters I shall be silent as the grave."

"Speak not so lightly of your grave, which may be now digging, not far off. In these times, sir, we cannot dally for men's foolish scruples."

Then turning to an attendant, he said, "Take the prisoner to his cell;" and to Van Diense he added, "I give you a brief time of reflection. A message to say that you will give me the information I require will soon end your troubles. Farewell, sir,-we Fesuits have been too strong for you." The Fleming was led away, downstairs, through galleries and rooms crowded by prisoners, of whom all the places of detention were then over full. His heart sank low within him; but there was still a hope that Laud would call him to another interview, and that the Ambassador would interfere. Many of the prisoners appeared to be wretched objects, while others kept up a boisterous gaiety, though the jailors quieted them with fierce threats and blows. Women and children, as well as men and clergymen, were mixed with bankrupts and felons ;-there were too many for them to be shut up alone, for all the rooms brimmed over. Few noticed the fresh arrival; but one respectable man beckoned the Fleming within, and expressed his deep regret, asking what had brought him there. He did not hesitate to state his position; when his informant said, "Once I would have applauded your noble spirit; but oh, calamity forces down the spring of one's courage! Do anything you can to regain liberty, anything, however base. The life we lead here is infernal! Always crowded with noisy blackguards, no retirement, meagre food-taken like animals, as we can snatch it, no hope of justice, here we abide till death, unless some accident or trick release us. We do not know each other, nor even do the jailors know us personally. Laud will

soon forget all about you, and you will be, like the rest, a permanent inmate of this vile Tartarus.”

A yet more dismal oppression weighed on the soul of the Dutch patriot, as he saw round him evidences of the truth of this awful description, which took from him the last ray of hope. The closeness, foul smells, filth, noise, and profanity were such as he had never seen, or even dreamed of.

He had also unwittingly incurred the dislike of one jailor, who never came by without aiming a cuff, or stroke, or a vile reproach at him. Time passed, and he began to think he was indeed forgotten of friend and foe, and must make up his mind to continual incarceration. The jailors kept back his food till he knew the real pangs of hunger; they stole the best parts of his clothes, leaving him more exposed to the stout whips and thongs with which they were armed. How long he had been confined he could not reckon; but it seemed ages since he had walked about as a free agent, and the hope of being so again seemed quite unnatural.

One day, however, there was a stir in the jail, and it was reported that an inspection was taking place. A small party was conducted through the passages, and all stood up before them. As they approached, the Fleming thought he recognized the attaché of the Dutch Embassy, and his heart leapt within him. The Dutchman came on, and singled him out. He whispered his name in his ear, adding, “Draw inside the cell, and while we talk change hats with the man behind me, take his cloak, and follow me away." When this change was quickly effected, he followed in the train of the attaché, who turned to go back. Van Diense had some qualms about the man left in his place, but the Dutchman at once assured him he would be safe. So they slowly passed through the iron gates and the guard-room. They were passing down to the boat, when the jailor who hated the Fleming came rushing after them, and collared him. The attaché quietly said, "Fellow, leave my servant alone!" and slipped some gold pieces into the rascal's hand, who then walked away,

muttering, "Let him go,—I should surely have killed him if he had stopped with us."

When they were seated in the boat, lively congratulations passed. For the first time in his life the stout, calm Fleming burst into tears, and sobbed hysterically. By degrees he was told that the man who had now remained in his place was a Dutch sailor on the books of a ship in the Thames. To-morrow the master and another attaché would go and demand him, without fear of his delivery. They soon arrived at the friendly Embassy, where Van Diense threw himself into the Ambassador's arms, saying, "I was in hell, and should have been doomed for life, but you have saved me!"

"My friend, forgive our delay; but I was obliged to wait till your keepers had forgotten you."

CHAPTER XXIX.

DEATH SOLVES WRONGS.

"La! des femmes portant le nom chéri de Sœurs.
D'un zèle affectueux prodiguent les douceurs,
O courage touchant! Ces tendres bienfaitrices
Dans un séjour infecte ou sont tous les supplices
De mille êtres suffrants prevenant les besoins,
Surmontent les degouts des plus penible soins."
LEGOUVÈ.

N an occasion when the English party were gathered at the Pastor's house, Dame Norris, putting her hand on his arm, said,

"Dear

Pastor, when, think you, shall we see old

England again, and the dear Tombland Church?"

"Who can say ?-God's will be done. But St. George's

is not vacant now."

That man could not oppose you,—so

I

"But it must be. beloved, so cruelly used!" said Grace Friend, with energy. "But if we returned there," said Hannah Vores, "we could not have any prayers,—that is, not the responses. fear the reading-desk must come down-and the kneelingrail from the Communion-and the organ pipes be stopped; -and, dear sir, the Scriptures can never be expoundednor the beadle carry a mace- -oh, Ichabod !—yet I like the free prayers, and taking bread and wine together like a real supper. So, if the heart's right, perhaps these things do not matter."

Mr. Ridgeley observed that "the question was not immediate. It would be some time before they returned. Things in England would change. The English Church must be reformed, and they go back to help its reformation. But they must not be too extreme."

Madam Ridgeley added, "I always agree with my dear husband, but yet never have I so enjoyed my Sundays, and never has my beloved pastor seemed so near to us all! I should miss our pleasant Dutch ways greatly."

Charlotte Ridgeley, laughing, said, "Oh, mother, I know what you would miss,-your nice basket-stove under your feet all sermon-time! Oh, how cold St. George's was in winter ! I am sure all the ladies will carry home this innovation, which greatly improves the service."

On this, Allen, the assistant preacher, said, " After all, I hope we shall return to worship in St. George's. I can imagine our present liberty being carried out by a little alteration in the forms of service. If we ever go back, at least Bishop Wren and Dr. Green must have first disappeared."

"Once again," said the Pastor, "my word is the will of the Lord be done,'-He will open the way and remove the difficulties. He has not sent us here in vain; and I think, with my brother, that we shall carry back our new lessons to Norwich, and even St. George's."

At one of the Lady Gabrielle's assemblies, Bridge declared that much as he had dreaded exile, he had found it the greatest blessing of his life. He should carry home a warm love for Holland.

Mijnheer Koop replied that "the Dutch had feared the coming of the proud English; but they had been pleasantly disappointed. The English ladies, especially, had earned the gratitude of Rotterdam." He wished "they might never go away." At this there was quite a murmur of approval.

The news from George had spoken of battles and sieges both by the Rhine and in Pomerania, under Bannier, the