worth's, denounced the whole Lower House as a factious, mutinous, seditious assembly, that struck not any more at the branches, but at the root, yea at the very Crown and Sceptre itself! The Court was frantic with delight at this episcopal sally; and "a plain man" told some of the leading members that "they knew who looked over Lincoln, but now Lincoln had looked over them," and put an end to their prating. It was too true. The entire House responded in a flame to the scurrilous Bishop, and Dissolution was no longer avoidable.

It took place on Tuesday the 7th of June. Six days before, the House had been endeavouring so to amend a Crown Improvement Act as to rescue the very poor from some part of the hardship inflicted by it, and to secure the insertion therein of a provision against the erection of more playhouses. But it did not pass. The House had been sitting a couple of months, and had passed nothing. The 7th of June came, and they were still an "addle" parliament; when the usher of the Lords called them to their Dissolution, and found them cheering for Savile against Wentworth's friend Wotton. "Sir Henry Wotton," writes Chamberlain, "for some indiscreet and indecent language used to Sir John Savile, was cried down, and in great danger to be called to the Bar, but escaped narrowly." The day after the Dissolution, Sandys, Crewe, Whitelocke, and the rest of the twelve members named to conduct the Conference against Impositions, were summoned to bring to the Council-Table all the notes and arguments they had prepared; and there, while the Clerk of the Council set fire to them, Whitelocke caught sight of the King in the adjoining Clerk's Chamber,

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peeping through a hole in the arras to enjoy the bonfire! 'I saw him," says Whitelocke, after mournfully recording the fact of his having seen his "twenty-four sides in folio," all written with his own hand burnt by Mr. Cottington, " I saw him look throughe an open place in the hangins, about the bignes of the palm of one hand, all the while the lords were in withe us."

The Lords having thus disposed of those learned and elaborate arguments in a manner much more effectual than by handling them in Conference, proceeded to sign warrants for committal of Mr. Recorder Wentworth and three others to the Tower. At the same time intimation was given to Sir Edwin Sandys, Sir Edward Giles, Sir Roger Owen, Mr. Nicholas Hyde, and others, that their names had been removed from the Commission of Peace. A graver step seems at first to have been contemplated in regard to "Sir John Savile, Knight for Yorkshire," of whom bonds and sureties were taken; but at length, "after confinement to this town for a time," as a private letter informs us, he was released to his friends.

Unmolested, but also undistinguished, and hardly perhaps much gratified by the scenes he had abstained from taking part in, the other ex-member for Yorkshire went back to Wood-house; and so ended the Parliament of 1614, "in that manner," says the good Sir James Whitelocke, "that all good people wear verye sorye for it. I think it not fit to play the part of a historiographer about it, but I pray God wee never see the like."

Oh Grief! what have I Done?

WISH that I had perish'd

Or had vow'd myself a Nun, Ere I cross'd the wide AtlanticOh Grief! what have I done?

Like a desert without water,
Like a sky without a sun,

Is this loveless life, this joyless--
Oh Grief! what have I done?

"Tis so cold-so drear around me :

These forests wild and dun,

That frozen lake before me

Oh Grief! what have I done?

My heart is very heavy

Ere the long day is begun-
But 'tis heavier far at evening:

Oh Grief! what have I done?

The stranger's eye it freezes me,

The stranger's hearth I shun-The stranger's voice is harsh to me: Oh Grief! what have I done?

The friends I lov'd so dearly,
The gentle hearts I won,

I left them all-I left them—

Oh Grief! what have I done?

They cry "Come back, come back to us;"

And thither would I run,

But the ocean rolls between us

Oh Grief! what have I done?

ANNA JAMESON.

Death.

(A FRAGMENT.)

EATH is a road our dearest friends have

gone;

Why, with such leaders, fear to say "Lead

on?"

Its gate repels, lest it too soon be tried;

But turns in balm on the immortal side.

Mothers have passed it; fathers; children; men,
Whose like we look not to behold again;

Women that smil'd away their loving breath.-
Soft is the travelling on the road of death.

But guilt has passed it? Men not fit to die?-
Oh hush-for He that made us all, is by.
Human were all; all men; all born of mothers,
All our own selves, in the worn shape of others.