the currency, and, in his desire for advancing the Reformation, had acted with such rashness, and had sanctioned such violent measures, that many converts, shocked at desecrations of what they had so long revered and respected, reverted to the religion of their fathers. Though he courted the favour of the people and had protected their rights with justice and impartiality in the affair of the enclosures and on other occasions of oppression, he possessed little real authority in the counties. In London he had, however, a strong party, and so apprehensive was Northumberland of an insurrection for his rescue, that, on the 1st of December, the day fixed for the Protector's trial, a proclamation was issued commanding all citizens to keep within their doors during the day. To the surprise of those who, nevertheless, thronged the avenues to Westminster Hall, the Lords pronounced Somerset not guilty of treason, on which the bearer of the terrible axe from the Tower withdrew, and a shout of joy burst from the assembled multitude; but their satisfaction was immediately afterwards turned into sorrow by the announcement that, although treason had not been proved against him, he had been found guilty of felony, and that on that score a sentence of death had been pronounced against him.

Northumberland and his friends took good care that all Somerset's entreaties and endeavours to communicate with the King should be defeated; and as in those days. the celebration of Christmas at the Court was a season of great festivity, every means was adopted to divert the young monarch's attention from the trial and condemna

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tion of his uncle. Yet, considering the extraordinary admiration with which historians have regarded the character of Edward VI., both as to the amiability of his nature and the superiority of his intellect, it may seem strange that, as he was now no longer a child (he was in his sixteenth year), he should quietly have acquiesced in the fate of the man to whom he had so long been used to look up as his guide and director, and who had never failed to show him both deference and kindness. Besides this, the nobleness of nature, generosity, and humanity, for which Somerset was certainly remarkable, were qualities, of all others, likely to give him influence over the ingenuous mind of the youthful King, as well as to gain his personal affection.

Whether Northumberland really found it difficult to persuade Edward of his uncle's guilt, or whether Edward, though convinced of it, was reluctant to put his signature to the fatal warrant, much delay took place in fixing the day for his execution. Six weeks were allowed to intervene, and it was not till the 22nd of January, that the once powerful Duke of Somerset was led from the Tower gates to his doom.

In vain had proclamation been made over-night for the citizens to keep at home till ten o'clock. Long before daybreak, crowds had assembled on Tower Hill, and, though troops were stationed round the scaffold, the pressure was so great to get within reach of his voice, that the soldiers had difficulty to preserve order. A detachment of soldiers appointed to guard the scaffold arriving late on Tower Hill caused a great commotion, as several

supposed it was a body of the Protector's friends coming to rescue him. The joyful cry of "reprieve" was also raised in consequence of the arrival of Sir A. Brown on horseback; but Somerset, who had already commenced one of those deliberate speeches which seem to have been considered in those days an important feature in the part which every gentleman was expected to act on the scaffold, was not for a moment disturbed or agitated by these accidents. He calmly waved his hand for silence, finished what he desired to say, and, after a short prayer, laying his head on the block, it was severed at one stroke by the executioner. Such was the popularity of Somerset among the London citizens, that, on the fatal fall of the axe, the crowd broke into loud lamentation, and many of those nearest the scaffold pressed forward to dip their handkerchiefs in his blood.

THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH.

HE day after Sir Thomas Wyatt broke out into open rebellion, Sir Richard Southwell, Sir Edward Hastings, and Sir Thomas Cornwallis, were despatched to the house. of the Princess Elizabeth, at Ashridge, in Hertfordshire, with a guard of two hundred and fifty horse, to bring her a prisoner to London; and the manner in which these gentlemen executed their commission, reflects but little honour on their names. Elizabeth was at the time confined by severe illness, and, notwithstanding that the messengers did not arrive at Ashridge till ten o'clock at night, they immediately sent her word, that they were bearers of a message from the Queen, and forced their way straight to her bedroom, a rudeness at which her high spirit revolted. Although worn down by sickness, her manner of receiving them marked her indignation at their conduct. She expressed surprise that they should, unbidden, have intruded themselves there at such an hour of the night; inquiring, "Is the haste such, that you could not have waited till the morning?" But their answer was, that they came to do their duty, by orders of the Queen, whose pleasure it was that

she should repair with them without delay to London, adding, that "They must take her with them whether quick or dead." Nor could her own remonstrances, or the entreaties of her household, prevail upon them to have any consideration for her state of health. She was strictly guarded that night, and on the following morning, at nine o'clock, was placed in a litter, and compelled to commence her journey towards London; yet, so serious was her illness, that they could proceed no farther than Redburne, where she rested that night. On the following day, they reached St. Albans, where she lay at Sir Ralph Poulet's, and on the next, arrived at "Maister Dodde's house," at South Mymmes, where she remained that night; and thence, on the fourth day, they brought her to Highgate; but her illness was now become so much more dangerous, that it was found necessary on the following morning to delay her further journey, and many messengers in the interim passed to and fro from the Queen and Council, as to the question of her ability to proceed.

During her journey, the people had assembled in crowds upon the road to see her, and Elizabeth had everywhere the gratification of receiving the strongest demonstrations of the interest that was so generally felt in her fate; on the sixth day especially, when she was conveyed from Highgate to London, many gentlemen. rode out to meet her, as a mark of their attachment to her person, and multitudes thronged about her litter, lamenting and bewailing her estate."

Upon Elizabeth's arrival at Whitehall, she was shut up