Original.

LADY JANE GREY.

BY J. FITCH.

the time nothing while I am with him. And when I
am called from him, I fall on weeping, because what-
soever I do else but learning, is full of grief, trouble,
fear, and whole misliking unto me.
And thus my

book hath been so much pleasure, and bringeth daily to
me more pleasure, and more, that in respect of it, all
other pleasures in very deed be but trifles and troubles
to me.""

This was a thrilling narrative. It shows a feeling heart, and a mind disposed to overcome, and turn to

THIS illustrious lady was born in the latter part of the year 1535, or the beginning of 1536. She was of noble ancestry; the daughter of Henry Grey, Marquis of Dorset, and Lady Frances Brandon, daughter of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. From early life she gave evidence of great vigor of mind, which sub-good effect the injudicious conduct of those who should sequently displayed its energies in grasping an amount of knowledge, seldom attained by any of the other sex. Her father, having himself a taste for learning, employed two chaplains, Harding and Aylmer, men of extensive erudition, as tutors to his daughter. And his care in this respect was amply rewarded, for she made extraordinary advancement. We are informed, that in addition to intimate acquaintance with her own language, she added the thorough knowledge of the Latin, French, Italian and Greek; and that while yet young, had become versed in Hebrew, Chaldee, and Arabic. The severity of her parents was truly afflictive to a feeling heart, though perhaps it resulted to her good. That we may see this, and the effect it had upon her mind, we will introduce the observations of Roger As-raising objection to his sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, and cham, made while paying her a visit:

"Before I went into Germany," says he, "I came to Broadgate in Leicestershire, to take my leave of that noble lady, Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding much beholden. Her parents, the Duke and Duchess, with all the household gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in her chamber, reading Phæd Platonis in Greek, and that with as much delight as some gentlemen would read a merry tale in Boccace. After salutation, and duty done, with some other talk, I asked her why she should lose such pastime in the park? Smiling, she said, 'I wist all their sport in the park is but a shadow, to that pleasure that I find in Plato. Alas! good folk, they never felt what true pleasure meant.' 'And how came you, madam,' quoth I, 'to this deep knowledge of pleasure? And what did chiefly allure you unto it, seeing not many women, and but very few men have attained thereunto?' 'I will tell you,' quoth she, and tell you a truth which perchance ye will marvel at. One of the greatest benefits God ever gave me, is that he sent me so sharp and severe parents, and so gentle a school-master; for when I am in the presence of either father or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand or go, eat, drink, be merry or sad, be sewing, playing, dancing, or doing any thing else, I must do it, as it were, in such weight, measure, and number, even as perfectly as God made the world; or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea, presented sometimes with pinches, nips, and bobs, and other ways, which I will not name for the honor I bear them, so without measure misordered, that I think myself in hell till time come that I must go to Mr. Aylmer, who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learning, that I think all

have dealt more kindly with such a generous and noble daughter. The father of Lady Jane was created Duke of Suffolk, in October, 1551, and in conjunction with the Duke of Northumberland, endeavored to contrive against a reverse of fortune, which they feared would happen on the death of Edward VI., whose health was now declining. To be successful in this attempt, they aimed at a change in the succession to the crown, by availing themselves of the reputation, and many amiable qualities of the Lady Jane. Indeed, it is said that this was the design of her marriage to Lord Guilford Dudley, son of the Duke of Northumberland, but without any intimation of it to her. Many efforts were made to bring the young monarch into their scheme, both by

by pleading the royal line, and excellent qualities of Lady Jane. His majesty was finally brought to accede to their proposals, and on July 6, 1553, expired.

To carry these measures into execution, the two dukes endeavored to conceal the king's death, to gain the city of London, and the consent of Lady Jane, who was left in ignorance of their designs. In the meantime the king's sister, Mary, informed of their movements, asserted her right to the throne, and that if they would acknowledge this by proclaiming her queen, she would forgive their past offenses. But instead of yielding to this, they asserted their attachment to Lady Jane, and her right to the throne.

On Monday, July 10, the above mentioned dukes repaired to the Lady Jane's residence, to open to her their proceedings. Her father informed her that the letters patent of the king, the voice of the privy council, and the magistrates and citizens of London, conferred upon her the right to the crown; and then, himself and Northumberland, paid their homage to her as Queen of England. Greatly astonished at this discourse, without yielding to their arguments, she replied as follows:

"That the laws of the kingdom, and natural right standing for the king's sisters, she would beware of burdening her weak conscience with a yoke which did belong to them; that she understood the infamy of those who had permitted the violation of right to gain a sceptre; that it were to mock God and deride justice, to scruple at the stealing of a shilling, and not at the usurpation of a crown."

She concluded her reply, which throughout was marked with modesty, candor, and good sense, in the following manner: "And if you love me sincerely, you will rather wish me a secure and quiet fortune,

good father, I have opened to you the state in which I presently stand, whose death at hand, although to you seems right woful, to me there is nothing that can be more welcome, than from this vale of misery, to aspire to that heavenly throne of all joy and pleasure of Christ our Savior; in whose steadfast faith, it may be right for the daughter to write to the father. The Lord that hitherto hath strengthened you, so continue you, that at last we may meet in heaven, with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost."

though mean, than an exalted station exposed to the and doubtless was much afflicted at his and her calamiwind, and followed by some dismal fall." ties, and that she was resigned to the issue, and imNotwithstanding this request, she was at length pre-plored God's mercy, she thus concludes: "And thus, vailed upon by the entreaties of her father, her mother, the Duke of Northumberland, and even her husband, to assent to what was to be done; and accordingly, with reluctant feelings, was conveyed to the Tower, in queenly state, and was solemnly proclaimed queen. But her reign was brief, lasting only about nine days; for, on the 19th of the same month, the Princess Mary was proclaimed queen. Her father hearing this, went into his daughter's apartments in the Tower, and gently informed her that she must lay aside her queenly state, and return to her former condition. To this she cheer- The night before her death she wrote a letter to her fully replied, "Sir, I better brook this message than sister Catharine, in the end of her Greek Testament, that of my advancement to royalty. Out of obedience in which she says, "I have here sent you, good sister to you and to my mother I have grievously sinned, and Catharine, a book, which, although it be not outwardly done violence to myself; I now willingly, and as obey-trimmed with gold, yet inwardly is more worth than ing the motions of my soul, relinquish the crown, and precious jewels. It is the book, dear sister, of the law endeavor to salve those faults committed by others, if at of the Lord. It is his testament and last will, which least so great a fault can be salved, by a willing relin-he bequeathed unto us wretches, which shall lead you quishment, and ingenuous acknowledgment of them." to the path of eternal joy; and if you with a good With the close of her reign began the severest afflic- || mind read it, and with an earnest mind do purpose to tions; for in a little time, she, the father of her husband, follow it, it shall bring you to an everlasting life. It with all his family, many nobility and gentry, and at shall teach you to live, and learn you to die." length her own father, were imprisoned in the Tower. On the 3d of November, 1553, herself and husband were condemned to death on a charge of high treason. This solemn decision made little impression on her mind, for she had long expected death, and he was robbed of his terrors.

In her trouble, she drew up a very devotional prayer, which is too lengthy to be introduced here. It commences, "O Lord, thou God and Father of my life, hear me, poor and desolate woman, which flieth unto thee only in all troubles and miseries." The following is the character of this lady as drawn by Bishop BurThis last remark reveals the most amiable part of her nett: "She read the Scriptures much, and had attaincharacter, namely, her piety. She was early instructed ed great knowledge in divinity. But, with all these in the reformed religion, the principles of which were advantages of birth, and parts, she was so humble, so deeply engraven on her mind, and gave her a stability gentle and pious, that all people both admired and loved of religious character, unmoved by the arts, machina- her. She had a mind wonderfully raised above the tions, and terrors of Popery. Her intimate acquain-world; and at the age when others are but imbibing tance with the truths of our religion might be shown in her conversation with Mr. Feckenham, who was sent to her two days before her death, that he might endeavor to gain her to the Church of Rome; but it cannot be introduced here. In the conclusion of their interview Mr. Feckenham remarked, "That he was sorry for her; for I am sure," said he, "we two shall never meet." "True it is," says Lady Jane, "that we shall never meet, except God turn your heart; for I am assured unless you repent, and turn to God, you are in an evil And I pray God, in the bowels of his mercy, to send you his Holy Spirit; for he hath given you this great gift of utterance, if it pleased him also to open the eyes of your heart."

case.

Her attachment and zeal for true religion, in oppesition to error, is most strikingly shown in a letter written by her to Mr. Harding, one of her tutors; who, it appears, had turned from an opposer to an advocate of Popery. In this letter, though she uses severe language, she appears to desire his return to truth and safety. During the time of her imprisonment, she wrote a very affecting letter to her father, in which, after remarking that he had been instrumental in hastening her death,

the notions of philosophy, she had attained to the practice of the highest principles of it. She was neither lifted up with the hope of a crown, nor cast down when she saw afterwards her palace made her prison; but carried herself with an equal temper of mind in those great inequalities of fortune, that so suddenly exalted and depressed her. All the passion she expressed in it was, that which is of the noblest sort, and is the indication of tender and generous natures, being much affected with the troubles into which her husband and father fell on her account."

The day appointed for her and her husband, Lord Dudley's, execution, was February 12, 1554; which having arrived, her husband requested an interview with her, but she tenderly declined, assuring him that this would open afresh the fountain of feeling, and unsettle their minds from that stability with which they had hitherto contemplated death. With moving tenderness she referred to their interview beyond this vale of tears. When he was passing out to execution, she bade him farewell from the Tower, which was her last sight of him till she saw his headless body carried back. At this sight she retained her serenity of countenance,

THE MUSIC OF NATURE.

and wrote in her table-book the following sentences, in
Latin, Greek, and English. The Greek was, "If his
slain body shall give testimony against me before men,
his most blessed soul shall render an eternal proof of
my innocence before God." The Latin was, "The
justice of men took away his body, but the Divine
mercy has preserved his soul." The English was, "If
my fault deserved punishment, my youth, at least, and
my innocence, were worthy of excuse.
God and pos-
terity will show me favor."

Soon after, she was conveyed to the place of execution, where, addressing the spectators in a very feeling speech, and committing her soul to God, she prepared for death, by unloosing her gown, and giving herself into the hands of the executioner, who implored her forgiveness; and having placed her head upon the block, it was soon severed from her body. The following was written in her prison, just before her end:

"Think not, O mortal, vainly gay,

That thou from human woes art free;
The bitter cup I drink to day,
To-morrow, may be drunk by thee.
Fruitless all malice, if our God is nigh;
Endless all pains, if he his help deny;
Patient I pass these gloomy hours away,
And wait the morning of eternal day."

9་-

Original.

THE MUSIC OF NATURE.

BY MISS BAKER.

A MUSIC floats on the morning breeze,
That wakes from the dewy bowers;
And soft tones steal from the singing bees,
As they sip the sweets from the flowers.

A song breaks forth from the limpid streams,
As they sweep in their gladness by;
And Eolian sounds are stirring the beams,
With a spirit like minstrelsy.

The mountain cataract that sweeps

Down the rocks, in its whitening foam, Hath a melody that for ever keeps

A joy round its desolate home.

A strain swells forth from the blue sea waves,
As they break on the shore afar,
That echoes among the rocky caves,
Ever making a gladness there.

A grandeur blends with the tones that come
From the deep, when the gales are high;
While billows raise their proud heads of foam,
Like mountains of snow, to the sky.

To the child of danger, how sweet the strain
That swells from the breezy shore,
And floats afar, o'er the wat'ry main,
When it breathes of his voyage o'er.
Vol. I.-32

Sounds thrill sublimely, from winds that bear
The clouds on their wings abroad,

For the rumbling of the wheels, they are
Of the chariot of a God.

249

When clouds have mustered their gloomy forms,
And the lightnings are flashing free,

I love the deep peals, for the rush of storms
Is always a music to me.

The glowing stars have a melody,

Softly breathing from all their rays,
That gladly echoes the calm blue sky,

As they hymn their Creator's praise.
How sweetly the song of a mother flows,

When she soothes her baby to rest;
As it lays its head in dreamy repose,

So still on her snowy white breast.
There's a gladness, too, in the softened tone
Of a sorrowing father's voice,

When he pardon speaks to a faithless son,
That makes a sad spirit rejoice.

There's a stirring touch in the very words,
When they breathe of a changeless love;
A touch that thrills all the bosom's chords,
Like a strain from the world above.

How strangely sweet are the last faint sighs
That rise on the laboring breath,
When the Christian closes his peaceful eyes,
In the spirit repose of death.

And even a joyous anthem swells

From the darkness of the tomb,
And glad'ning the mourner's bosom tells
Of a sun-rise beyond its gloom.

O! when to a fallen world like ours,
Such exquisite notes are given;
How sweetly ring the Elysian bowers,
With a music that gladdens heaven.

FOR THE TOMB OF ONE,
Who is said to have lost a large family in one day, and to have
died of a broken heart.

SHE saw-and gave no shriek of woe,
But shudd'ring kiss'd them, cold as they:
Speechless she felt death's bitter throe,
And sunk his unresisting prey.

Others there be, that brave distress,
'Reft of some dearly treasur'd one;
That live in utter loneliness,
Their life of life, their solace, gone.

These, if perchance they pass by here,
With slow-sad step, and care-worn brow,
Will cry, Vain woman! claim no tear,
Thy griefs were transient-happy thou.

The nautilus pompilius (fig. 1) is a univalve,* of the || chamber, is much larger than any of the others, and is spiral discoidal form, and being multilocular, is divi- intended as a place of residence for the animal. The ded into a number of different compartments, termed chambers, by the intervention of transverse plates, passing across the cavity nearly at right angles to the sides of the shell. These chambers have no connection with each other, or the body of the animal, except by an aperture in each transverse plate for the passage of a siphuncle or tube, which runs from the body of the animal to the interior of the shell. The first or external

* Univalves are shells which are formed in one piece, as the muret, cypræa, and strombus, common as mantle ornaments. Bivalves, are those having two parts or valves, generally connected by a cartilage or strong ligament, or by a hinge, as the common unio or muscle, so abundant in the western rivers. Multivalves have more than two parts, the rough lepas or balanus rugosus may be taken as an example.

extreme lightness of the shell counterbalances the weight of the animal, so that both become so near the specific gravity of sea water, that the difference produced by the tube being either empty or filled, and which scarcely amounts to half an ounce in weight, causes the whole to sink or float. The interior chambers being filled with nothing but air, are in great danger of being broken by the pressure of the ocean, which must be im

Fig. 2. Drawing of the animal of the Nautilus Pompilius. a. a. The heart.

b. b. A bristle passing from the pericardium, through the membranous siphuncle laid bare.

c. c. Bristles passing from the pericardium, through the orifices of communication with the branchial chamber.

d. d. d. d. Follicles communicating with the branchial ar