"I go," said the king, "from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no disturbance can be,-no disturbance in the world."

“You are exchanged,” replied the bishop, "from a temporary to an eternal crown-a good exchange."

Then the king said to the executioner, "Is my hair well?" and took off his cloak and his George, giving his George to the bishop, saying, "Remember." Then he put off his doublet, and being in his waistcoat, he put on his cloak again; then looking upon the block, he said to the executioner, "You must set it fast. When I put out my hands this way (stretching them out) then-" After that, having said two or three words to himself, as he stood with his hands and eyes lift up, immediately stooping down he laid his neck upon the block. And then the executioner, again putting his hair under his cap, the king thinking he was going to strike said, "Stay for the sign."

After a little pause, the king stretching forth his hands, the executioner at one blow severed his head from his body, and held it up and shewed it to the people, saying, "Behold the head of a traitor!" At the instant when the blow was given, a dismal universal groan was uttered by the people (as if by one consent) such as was never before heard; and as soon as the execution was over, one troop of horse marched rapidly from Charing-cross to King-street, and another from King-street to Charingcross, to disperse and scatter the multitude. "When the body was put into a coffin at Whitehall," says Rushworth, "there were many sighs and weeping eyes at the scene; and divers strove to dip their handkerchiefs in the king's blood. A general gloom and consternation pervaded London on the day of this atrocious perpetration; many of the chief inhabitants either shut themselves up in their houses, or absented themselves from the city."

THE PRIZE.

NAOMI STEVENS was one of the youngest of a large family. Her father and mother were honest, industrious people, and by means of constant striving and economy, they had brought up their elder children respectably. All of them were strong and healthy, nor was real illness known in the family till the little Naomi began to pine and grow weak; at length she was observed to go lame, and a small swelling in the hip-joint was discovered. The wisest plan in such a case would have been to consult some real doctor; but Naomi's parents preferred taking her to a man near, who had great fame in the neighbourhood for his treatment of bruises, burns, and the like, and who always boasted that he knew more than all the regular doctors put together, having taught himself every thing he knew of surgery, and so having found out several wonderful cures that they knew nothing about. It was very far from sensible in John and Mary Stevens to be deceived by such talk. They had a kind of feeling, while they went to him, that it was not a right thing to do; "but," as they said to one another, "it matters little where one goes, if one can but get good." He sold them some expensive ointment, to rub on the part, and, when that produced no good effects, made them buy some of another kind, which was sure to make a cure; and so it went on for some time, till they could afford no more money, and poor little Naomi had a sad wound on her hip, which wore away all her strength, and made her so completely lame that she could not set her foot on the ground. This was sad discouragement both to the child and her parents. The neighbours used to come in and shake their heads when they looked on the little sufferer's pale thin cheeks and wasted limbs, as she lay on her uneasy couch, a simple contrivance of two chairs set together, with a pillow for her aching head.

"Ah, mistress," one would say, 66 you will never rear her; I can almost see death in her face now."

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Nay, surely; do not say so," answered the startled mother; "I can't think her so bad as that: it is only that she is tired just now, poor thing."

"Why, if she lives," returned the other, "she will be but a burden to you and to herself too; it is hard enough to work one's way with health and strength. How is a poor cripple, as she will always be, to get a living?"

The mother sighed at this prospect, but only said, "Well, we must hope for the best."

She

Naomi had lain with her eyes closed while this conversation passed. They thought she was not attending, or was too young to understand what was said, and nothing in the expression of her countenance led them to think otherwise. Indeed, for the first few minutes she heard the words without giving any meaning to them, but as she lay thinking, every thing came full upon her mind; that she was likely to die, and that if she lived she must be a burden to her mother. These were sad and bitter feelings for a child; instantly every thing around her seemed more dark, and dull, and dreary than before. did not shew her mother what she felt; and she was so often silent from bodily pain, that Mary Stevens did not notice any thing particular about her. That night, and for many a long night after, she lay crying for hours, wetting her pillow with tears, and feeling every present pang more acutely, from the prospect of what was coming upon her. Even the society of her brothers and sisters could not give her the pleasure it once did. She almost envied them the power of being useful, though this was a feeling she did not allow herself to dwell on; and their cheerful merry faces, as they stood round her, telling what had happened to each of them, only roused and pleased her for a time. When she was left alone she could not help thinking how different they all were to her; that they were helping her father

and mother, or in the way to do so, while she was a burden. What a sad word that seemed to her! In the mean while her father, as a last hope, took her to a medical gentleman who had a high reputation for skill, and also for his kindness in using it for the poor. John Stevens felt a little ashamed of asking for his help on such terms, when he considered how much he had paid to the ignorant man who had done such mischief to his child, but he was obliged to confess all to Mr. Neele, who would not prescribe till he knew what had been done; and the shame of having to do so was a sort of punishment. Mr. Neele soon found that it was impossible at present to hope for a cure; all that could be done was to relieve the pain as much as possible, and endeavour to strengthen her. This he succeeded in doing, and soon it was thought she could walk a little with crutches. A pair was therefore got for her; at first she found them sad awkward things; she doubted if she could ever use them; and, besides, felt ashamed to be seen by her companions limping along in such a strange fashion. She enjoyed, however, being once more in the open air; and when she got a little more expert in the use of her crutches, she overcame her reluctance to be seen with them, and went hopping along, carried by their long strides to some distance from her father's house. She was now more than eight years old, and her mother began to think of her neglected schooling, and that something might be done, since she could get about once more, to make up for lost time. It happened that the National-school was not far off; and though the child felt shy at going amongst so many strangers, her mother determined on taking her there, as she heard from her neighbours such good accounts of the children who went to it. The first Monday morning of Naomi's going to the National-school was a formidable time to her. As her crutches sounded along the floor when she was being led by the governess to the lowest class at the end of the room, she

thought they had never made so much noise before, nor did she wonder when she saw every head in the school, (not fewer than a hundred,) turned towards her; and when, at last, she came to the end of her painful march, and was placed among a set of children, all of them two or three years younger than herself, and had to shew before them all that she hardly knew a letter of the alphabet, she felt bitterly ashamed: she could not tell the governess then that this was no fault of hers, for that nobody had taught her, and she knew she must be condered stupid and ignorant by everybody who saw her. A week passed, and at the end she had hardly compassed the alphabet, all the while feeling very dull and uncomfortable. Next Monday morning, as she was sitting in her usual place, with a little slip of calico, on which she was learning to hem and sew, in her hands, she heard the children about her whisper to one another, "Miss Seymour!" and looking up, she saw a young lady enter the room. She had a kind, pleasant countenance, so that Naomi did not feel surprised that the girls seemed pleased when she came near them. As hers was the lowest class, it was the last Miss Seymour attended to. After all had stood down from the form, and made a curtsey, Miss Seymour began to look over their work one by one. An odd little set of patches they were to examine and criticise; sometimes the stitches were all underneath the hem, so that it was not caught or fastened down at all, while in others they were so high and long that all was puckered up into a frill. Naomi could hear, as Miss Seymour came round, her remarks on each little piece of hemming; how they were to set in their needle, and hold the hem over the forefinger, and not take such long needlesful, nor let the thread get so sadly dirty, nor race over their task with such monstrous stitches, as if the only point was to get it done as quickly as possible. At length she came to Naomi; and either she observed that she was new in the