and discovered Mortimer stretched motionless on the bed. He was half-dressed, and lay upon his face; his right arm was thrust beneath the pillow; his left hung over the bed, and its unnerved fingers nearly touched the floor. On a chair was a cup, in the bottom of which were some drops of laudanum. They instantly raised him, he was alive; his face was ghastly pale, his mouth distorted; he rolled his eyes with hideous wildness, and then shut them as if he abhorred the light; he tried to speak, but his voice died away in inarticulate murmurs ; and, with a faint motion of his hand, he waved them from him, and seemed to bid them leave him to his fate. Medical aid was quickly procured, and not in vain; for, after an illness, during which his recovery was doubtful, he was at last restored to health. He then quitted college, and the remainder of his life was spent in a foreign land, where his days were imbittered by the thoughts of his blighted prospects, and of the misery which he had caused to his amiable family; and, before reaching the prime of manhood, Frederick Mortimer died of that cureless malady, a broken heart.

D.

KATHERINE PARR.

"WHO hath been with thee at this early hour o' the day, my sweet sister?" So did the Lady Herbert express herself, as she entered the closet of the gentle Katherine Parr. Her words were hurried, and she came forward with a light, but nimble step. Yet ere she reached the middle of the chamber, where her sister sat thoughtful and motionless, clasping her forehead with her hand, she stopped, and bending her knee even to the floor, she said, mildly, "Forgive me, gracious Queen, but I have been so used to look upon thee, and to love thee as my

own dear sister, that, perchance, I do at times forget thine altered station-"

“And—and—” cried Katherine, suddenly lifting up her head, and interrupting her sister with a sweetness of look and manner that was almost playful, "" and I tell thee what, my Mary, I will not forgive thee, if when we meet in private, I am aught to thee but thy loved Katherine Parr. It may be right, that I should be accosted by thee in public, in the King's presence, as thy queen and mistress, although I must confess, that even then it wearies me to be the creature of such heartless forms. But, Oh! not here, not here, I do beseech thee! Nay, do not keep up that cold, unkind restraint, or my poor heart will sink altogether beneath this wearying yoke of royalty. I shall indeed chide thee like an elder sister, if my commands be thus again unheeded. Come hither, and let me clasp that loving breast to mine, and kiss those dear, dear lips. Sit thee down, sweet sister-take thou this chair, and I will sit beside thee. Who hath been with me at this early hour? Did you not meet him then? My faithful friend and counsellor, even the Lord Primate Cranmer. You found me sad and thoughtful; but I had been dreaming, methinks, the whole night through, of poor Anne Ascough, our sweet familiar friend. My spirit had been sorely vexed, I felt as on a rack of uneasy and agonizing thoughts. Dear sister, I saw her face so plainly before me, I heard her words in my ear distinctly. I saw them bring her, unable as she was to stand, (her delicate limbs all dislocated from repeated tortures,) I saw them bring her in her chair to the stake. I knew not where I stood; but it seemed not far from Gardiner, and the cruel Chancellor Wriotesly. I saw the savage glances, which often flashed from their smooth meek faces as they sat discoursing in whispers

one with the other; suddenly they spoke both eagerly and at once, to a dark monk that had questioned Mistress Anne; and their words flew to me. Urge her,'

they said, to name her secret patrons; tell her that the King's free pardon doth await her; help her to names if she should seem forgetful, the Lady Herbert, the Lord Primate Cranmer, Katherine Parr.' But I will cease this subject, it pains my heart. We must not lose our courage in looking back, for, if the Primate be but rightly informed, we need more than mere human courage to look forward. I had but scarcely risen from my prayers when my Lord of Canterbury craved an audience with me. He came to put me on my guard—he had heard that our foes are busy; and he charged me with many kind entreaties to be most discreet, to keep conscience,' were his words, as guileless as the innocent doves; but not to forget, that he who bade us match the dove for innocence, added this sage advice, that we should also seek the serpent's wisdom.' The holy Jesus, Cranmer thus continued, doth not give commands which it is impossible for man to obey. He hath given power as well as precept, and all who humbly seek his Spirit, will ever find themselves enabled to obey his holy will,' But I have spoken long; dear Mary, have I wearied thee, for thou dost look like one that heeded not? What is the matter? You are not well: your eyes are filled with tears, your hand trembles. Tell me, what disturbs you ? Now do speak, sister, for your perplexing silence peoples my brain with fancies that will madden me, if you do not speak at once."

"I will speak forthwith," replied the Lady Herbert, "but let me see you calmer, sweet sister. I would I had found you on your knees, that I might first have knelt beside you, and joined in prayers for strength, new

strength with this new day of troubles. I could have told you better then."

"Oh! you may tell me now; tell me the worst, whatsoever the bad may be, for bad this fearful news is, I am persuaded, Yes, you may tell me, I am prepared. See, I am calm. I did not forget to pray for that same strength of which you spoke. It is the daily bread I feel most in need of. It is given, I am sure it is, the Bible tells us so, fresh with the dawning day from heaven. I am like one lost, nay dead, without it. Even as I speak, I feel my soul supported by this angels' food. I am quite calm. Speak, sister, speak at once."

"There is no need of speech," the Lady Herbert whispered, and she gazed timidly all round the chamber. "No need of comment." Then she rose up, and softly fastened the door, sliding the massy bolt into its staples. She returned to her sister, and put into her hands a parchment, a deed or warrant of the law it looked like. For a moment, Katherine moved not. She looked down upon the parchment, and there came into her eyes a look of dread to open or examine it further. This delay was but for the moment. The deed was unfolded in her shaking fingers. She had soon read all that was written thereon. It was the warrant to convey her a prisoner to the tower: the signature was there which she knew too well, the signature of the King her husband.

"It cannot be his writing," she cried wildly, "no, on my life, it is not his." She knew it was. " "Tis a base forgery. I'll to the King, and tell him how they treat me.' She rose up proudly. Her sister sought to detain her.

"Whither would you go," she said, "not to the King?"

"No, no, not to the King in sooth, but let me pass,

only to yon cabinet, fond sister," she added, struggling gently to be free. "I have my husband's letters there. We'll mark how he has written Henry,' when he wrote those proofs of honest faith and true affection. Ah! see here, my sister; these letters almost break my heart, I laid them on the King's; they are from his children, Mary, Elizabeth, and young Prince Edward. They call me mother. How happy I had hoped to be; but I see the end of my fair hopes. I must submit this head, that I have held too high, to the cruel axe. Where are my · wild thoughts wandering? I almost forget wherefore I came hither. Oh! for these letters of my too dear lord ! There is the name, now so fatal to me. Look, every letter is the same, only his hand hath shaken as he signed the warrant. Bless him for that! I must wait to read a few words in this one letter, Mary. No, I will not; I'll lock the cabinet straightway."

"But that fearful parchment," said the Lady Herbert, "what wilt thou do with that? we must determine without delay."

"I have determined," cried the Queen, with a firm voice. "I will do with it what Gardiner and his creatures would fain do with their mistress."

Katherine looked once again at the warrant, and then cast it into the fire. After the warrant was consumed, she strove to enter into sprightly discourse with her sister; but the smell of the burnt parchment alarmed her fearful spirit, and she sprinkled sweet water from her essence vial about the room.

"I must think of nothing," she then said, "but how to save this poor head ; for, trust me, sister, it is now in peril. There would be but few steps for me from the Tower to the scaffold."

Shortly after, the Lady Herbert left her sister to make