commodated in the Constable Tower. This leniency was the result of the policy of the Earl of Salisbury, who hoped to obtain disclosures. from the two Jesuit priests which would enable him to strike the decisive blow he meditated against the papists. But he was unsuccessful. They refused to make any confessions which would criminate themselves, or implicate others; and as none of the conspirators, not even Tresham, had admitted their connexion with the plot, it was difficult to find proof against them. Garnet underwent daily examinations from the Earl of Salisbury and the commissioners, but he baffled all their inquiries. "If we cannot wring the truth from you by fair means, Mr. Garnet," said Salisbury, "we must have recourse to torture."

"Minare ista pueris," replied Garnet, contemptuously.

"Leave these two priests to me, my lord," observed Sir William Waad, who was present at the examination, which took place at the council-chamber in his lodgings; "leave them to me," he said, in a low voice to the earl, "and I will engage to procure a full confession from their own lips, without resorting to torture." "You will render the state an important service by doing so,' replied Salisbury, in the same tone. "I place the matter entirely in your hands."

The lieutenant set to work without loss of time. By his directions, Garnet and Oldcorne were removed from their present places of confinement to two subterranean cells immediately adjoining each other, but between which a secret recess, contrived in the thickness of the wall, and built for the purpose it was subsequently put to, existed. Two days after they had been so immured, Ipgreve, who had received his instructions, loitered for a moment in Oldcorne's cell, and, with affected hesitation, informed him that for a trifling reward he would enable him to hold unreserved communication with his fellow-prisoner.

Oldcorne eagerly caught at the bait, but required to be satisfied that the jailer could make good his words. Ipgreve immediately proceeded to the side of the cell, and holding a lamp to the wall, showed him a small iron knob.

"Touch this spring," he said, " and a stone will fall from its place, and enable you to converse with Father Garnet, who is in the next cell. But you must take care to replace the stone when any one approaches."

Promising to observe the utmost caution, and totally_unsuspicious of the deceit practised upon him, Oldcorne gave Ipgreve the reward, and as soon as he was gone, touched the spring, and found it act precisely as the jailer had stated.

Garnet was greatly surprised to hear the other's voice, and on learning how the communication was managed, was at first suspicious of some stratagem, but by degrees his fears wore off, and he became unreserved in his discourse with his companion, discussing the fate of the conspirators, their own share in the plot,

the probability of their acquittal, and the best means of baffling their examiners. All these interlocutions were overheard and taken down by the lieutenant and two other witnesses, Forsett and Lockerson, private secretary to the Earl of Salisbury, who were concealed in the recess. Having obtained all the information he desired, Sir William Waad laid his notes before the council, and their own confessions being read to the priests, they were both greatly confused, though neither would admit their authenticity.

Meanwhile their two servants, Owen and Chambers, had been repeatedly examined, and refusing to confess, were at last suspended from a beam by the thumbs. But this producing no result, they were told that on the following day they would be placed on the rack. Chambers then offered to make a full confession, but Owen, continuing obstinate, was conveyed back to his cell. Ipgreve brought him his food as usual in the evening, and on this occasion it consisted of broth, and a small allowance of meat. It was the custom of the jailer to bring with him a small blunt-pointed knife, with which he allowed the prisoner to cut his victuals. Having got possession of the knife, Owen tasted the broth, and complaining that it was quite cold, he implored the jailer to get it warmed for him, as he felt extremely unwell. Somewhat moved by his intreaties, and more by his appearance, Ipgreve complied. On his return, he found the unfortunate man lying in one corner of the cell, partially covered by a heap of straw which ordinarily formed his bed.

"Here is your broth," he said. "Take it while it is hot. I shall give myself no further trouble about you." "It will not be needed," gasped Owen.

Alarmed by the sound of his voice, Ipgreve held the light towards him, and perceived that his face was pale as death. At the same time, he remarked that the floor was covered with blood. Instantly divining the truth, the jailer rushed towards the wretched man, and dragging away the blood-stained straw, found he had inflicted a frightful wound upon himself with the knife, which he still held in his grasp.

66

"Fool that I was, to trust you with the weapon!" cried Ipgreve. "But who would have thought it could inflict a mortal wound?" Any weapon will serve him who is resolved to die," rejoined Owen. "You cannot put me on the rack now." And with a ghastly expression of triumph, he expired.

Soon after this, Oldcorne and Abingdon were sent down to Worcester, where the former was tried and executed. Stephen Littleton suffered death at the same time.

On Friday, the 23rd of March, full proofs being obtained against him, Garnet was arraigned of high treason at Guildhall. The trial, which excited extraordinary interest, was attended by the king, by the most distinguished personages, male and female, of his

court, and by all the foreign ambassadors.

Garnet conducted

himself throughout his arraignment, which lasted for thirteen hours, with the same courage and address which he had displayed on his examinations before the commissioners. But his subtlety availed him little. He was found guilty and condemned.

The execution of the sentence was for some time deferred, it being hoped that a complete admission of his guilt would be obtained from him, together with disclosures relative to the designs of the Jesuit party. With this view, the examinations were still continued, but the rigour with which he had been latterly treated was relaxed. A few days before his execution, he was visited by several eminent Protestant divines-Doctor Montague, dean of the Chapel Royal; Doctor Neile, dean of Westminster; and Doctor Overall, dean of Saint Paul's; with whom he had a long disputation on points of faith and other spiritual matters.

At the close of this discussion, Doctor Overall remarked, "I suppose you expect, Mr. Garnet, that, after your death, the Church of Rome will declare you a martyr?"

"I a martyr" exclaimed Garnet, sorrowfully. "O what a martyr I should be! If, indeed, I were really about to suffer death for the Catholic religion, and had never known of this project, except by means of sacramental confession, I might, perhaps, be accounted worthy the honour of martyrdom, and might deservedly be glorified in the opinion of our church. As it is, I acknowledge myself to have sinned in this respect, and deny not the justice of the sentence passed upon me."

Satisfied, at length, that no further disclosures could be obtained from him, the king signed the warrant for his execution on the 2nd of May.

ance.

The scaffold was erected at the west end of Saint Paul's Cathedral, on the spot where Digby and the other conspirators had suffered. A vast assemblage was collected as on the former occasion, and similar precautions were taken to prevent tumult and disturbThe unfortunate man's torture was cruelly and unnecessarily prolonged by a series of questions proposed to him on the scaffold by Doctor Overall and the Dean of Westminster, all of which he answered very collectedly and clearly. He maintained his fortitude to the last. When fully prepared, he mounted the ladder, and thus addressed the assemblage:

"I commend myself to all good Catholics. I grieve that I have offended the king by not revealing the design entertained against him, and that I did not use more diligence in preventing the execution of the plot. I commend myself most humbly to the lords of his majesty's council, and intreat them not to judge too hardly by me. I beseech all men that Catholics may not fare the worse for my sake, and I exhort all Catholics to take care not to mix themselves with seditions or traitorous designs against the king's majesty, whom God preserve!"

Making the sign of the cross upon his forehead and breast, he continued:

"In nomine Patris, Filii, et Spiritûs sancti! Jesus Maria! Maria, mater gratiæ! mater misericordia! Tu me ab hoste protege, et horâ mortis suscipe! In manus tuas Domine, commendo spiritum meum, quia tu redimisti me, Domine, Deus veritatis." Again crossing himself he added,-" Per crucis hoc signum fugiat procul omne malignum! Infige crucem tuam, Domine, in corde meo!"

And with this last pathetic ejaculation he threw himself from the ladder.

Garnet obtained, after death, the distinction he had disclaimed while living. He was enrolled, together with Oldcorne, among the list of Catholic martyrs. Several miracles are affirmed by the Jesuits to have been performed in his behalf. Father More relates that on the lawn at Hendlip, where he and Oldcorne last set foot, "a new and hitherto unknown species of grass sprang up into the exact shape of an imperial crown, and remained for a long time without being trodden down by the feet of passengers, or eaten up by the cattle." It was further asserted that a spring of oil burst forth at the west end of Saint Paul's Cathedral on the precise spot where he suffered. But the most singular prodigy is that recounted by Endæmon Joannes, who affirms that in a straw which had been sprinkled with Garnet's blood, a human countenance, strangely resembling that of the martyr, was discovered. This legend of the Miraculous Straw, having received many embellishments and improvements as it travelled abroad, obtained universal credence, and was conceived to fully establish Garnet's innocence.

Anne Vaux, the Jesuit's devoted friend, retired with her sister, Mrs. Brooksby, to a nunnery in Flanders, where she ended her days.

So terminated the memorable and never-to-be-forgotten Gunpowder Treason, for deliverance from which our church still offers thanksgivings, and in remembrance of which, on the anniversary of its discovery, fagots are collected and bonfires lighted to consume the effigy of the arch-conspirator, GUY FAWKES.

END OF "GUY FAWKES.”

THE VICTIM OF STEAM.

BY CORNELIUS COLVILLE.

PASSING along that once animated and busy thoroughfare-the only direct channel of communication between two of the great capitals of the United Kingdom-London and Edinburgh-what a multifarious crowd of reminiscences and associations of bygone times involuntarily press themselves upon the mind! Where, asks the traveller, are the "Highflyers," the "Expresses," the "True Britons," the "Red Rovers," that used but a few years ago to rattle along and enliven these now deserted roads? Where are the well-laden teams, drawn by their sleek and lusty greys, that moved as it were at a snail's pace over the ground? Shall the sound of the bugle, or the whistle of the merry waggoner, never again fall upon the ear, or touch a chord in memory, that has long ceased to vibrate? Where those signs of trade and prosperity-that joyous and comfortable appearance that the various hostelries you passed on your route were wont to assume? The sound of the bugle has been exchanged for the shriek of the whistle, and the omnipotent power of steam has alike supplanted the stage-coach and the stage waggon. Hostelries have been converted into railway-stations; and where once you were accustomed to ask for a glass of brandy, you now ask for your ticket. Small villages that were regaled, at least once a day, by the sight of a stage-coach, are now reduced to the miserable shift of being contented with that of a coalwaggon or a brewer's dray.

Civilisation is rapidly progressing; the age in which we live is becoming every day more and more utilitarian, but are we not gradually and imperceptibly losing the love of real enjoyment for the purpose of making money and economising time? What pleasure is there in being whirled across a country at the rate of twenty or thirty miles an hourin passing green fields and plantations, pleasant landscapes and running streams, without allowing the eye for a moment to dwell upon their beauty, and the mind leisure and opportunity to enjoy itself in their contemplation.

We love the old times-we have a fond predilection for stage-coaches. They are associated with some of our brightest and happiest moments. In our school-days railroads were just beginning to be talked of; but at the Christmas and midsummer vacations, we always returned home to our friends and relations by the old conveyance, "the "Telegraph" or the "Celerity." How well do we remember the pleasantries, the facetious stories of the guard-the dashing, off-hand style of the coachman, as he saluted "a brother whip" on the road-the divers houses at which these remarkable men used to alight when we changed horses, ostensibly with no other view than to see that all was right, but, without doubt, instigated by some other powerful motive, for they invariably went into the inn, and we have invariably observed, on their return, an extra suffusion of ruddiness imparted to their jovial countenances, and an additional lustre to their merry twinkling eyes.

Yes, a journey in these days was a delight and an intellectual enjoyIt was never tedious, never monotonous. Now you were passing through some quiet little village, followed by a band of rosy little chil

ment.