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King. (Aside,) Lie, lie! how strange it seems to me to be talked to in this style. (Aloud,) Upon my word I do not sir.
Miller. Come, come, Sirrah, confess; you have shot one of the king's deer, haven't you?
King. No, indeed, I owe the king more respect. I heard a gun go off to be sure, and was afraid some robbers were
Miller. I am not bound to believe this, friend. Pray who are you ? What's your name?
Miller. Name! aye, name. You have a name, haven't you? Where do you come from, and what business have you here?
King. These are questions I have not been used to, honest man.
Miller. May be so; but they are questions no honest man would be afraid to answer. So if you can give no better account of yourself, I shall make bold to take you along with me, till you can.
King. With you! What authority have you to
Miller. The king's, if I must give you an account. Sir, I am John Cockle, the miller of Mansfield, one of his Majesty's keepers in the forest of Sherwood; and I will let no suspected person pass this way, unless he can give a better account of himself than you have done, I promise you.
King. Very well, sir, I am glad to hear the king has so good an officer; and since I find you have his authority, I will give you a better account of myself, if you will do me the favour to hear it,
Miller. You don't deserve it, I believe, but let's hear what you can say for yourself.
King. I have the honour to belong to the king as well as you, and perhaps should be as unwilling to see any wrong done him. I came down with him to hunt in this forest, and the chase leading us to-day a great way from home, I am benighted in this wood, and have lost my way.
Miller. This does not sound well; if you have been hunting, pray where is your horse ?
King. I have tired my horse so that he lay down under me, and I was obliged to leave him.
I must own,
Miller. If I thought I might believe this now
Miller. What, live at court and not lie ? that's a likely story, indeed.
King. Be that as it will, I speak the truth now, I assure you : and to convince you of it, if you will attend me to Nottingham, or give me a night's lodging in your house, here is something to pay you for your trouble, (offering money) and if that is not sufficient, I will satisfy you in the morning to your utmost desire.
Miller. Aye, aye, now I am convinced you are à courtier; here is a little bribe for to-day, and a large promise for to-morrow, both in one breath. Here take it again, John Cockle is no courtier. He can do what is right without a bribe.
King. Thou art a very extraordinary man, and I should be glad, methinks, to know more of thee.
Miller. Prithee, don't thee and thou me at this rate. I dare say I'm as good a man as yourself, at least.
King. Sir, I beg pardon.
Miller. Nay, I am not angry, friend; only I don't love to be too familiar with you, while your honesty is suspected.
King. You are right. But what else can I do to convince you.
Miller. You may do what you please. It is twelve miles to Nottingham, and all the way through this thick wood; but if you are resolved upon going thither to night, I will put you in the road, and direct you as well as I can, or if you will accept of such poor entertainment as a miller can give, you shall be welcome to stay here till morning, and then I will go with you myself.
Enter a courtier in haste. Courtier. Is your Majesty safe? We have hunted the forest over to find
you. Miller. How! the King! then I am undone. (Kneels.) Your majesty will pardon the ill usage you have received.
The King draws his Sword. His majesty surely will not kill a servant for doing his dutv inn faithfully.
King. No, my good fellow. So far from having any thing to pardon, I am much your debtor. I cannot think but so good and honest a man will make a worthy and honourable knight. Rise up, Sir John Cockle, and receive this sword as a badge of knighthood, and a pledge of my protection ; and to support your nobility, and in some measure to requite you for the pleasure you have done us, a thousand crowns a year shall be your revenue.
OF QUEEN MARY AND THE MARTYRS.
MARY possessed few qualities either estimable or amiable. Her person was as little engaging as her manner. And, amidst the complication of vices which entered into her composition, obstinacy, bigotry, violence, cruelty, we scarcely find
any virtue but sincerity ; unless we add, vigor of mind, a quality which seems to have been inherent in her family.
2. During this queen's reign, persecution for religion was carried to the most terrible height. The mild counsels of Cardinal Pole, who was inclined to toleration, were overruled by Gardner and Bonner; and multitudes of all condi. tions, ages and sexes, were committed to the flames.
3. The persecutors began with Rogers, prebendary of St. Paul's; a man equally distinguished by his piety and learning ; but whose domestic situation, it was hoped, would bring him to compliance.
4. He had a wife, whom he tenderly loved, and ten children; yet did he continue firm in his principles. And such was his serenity after condemnation, that the jailors, it is said, awaked him from a sound sleep, when the hour of his execution approached. He suffered at Smitháeld.
5. Hooper, bishop of Gloucester, was condemned at the same time with Rogers, but was sent to his own diocess to be punished, in order to strike the greater terror into his flock. His constancy at his death, however, had a very contrary effect.
6. It was a scene of consolation to Hooper, to die in their sight, bearing testimony to that doctrine which he had
formerly taught among them. And he continued to exhort them, till his tongue, swollen by the violence of his agony, denied him utterance.
7. Ferrar, bishop of St. David's also suffered this terrible punishment in his own diocess; and Ridley, bishop of London, and Latimer, formerly bishop of Worcester, two prelates venerable by their years, their learning, and their piety, perished together in the same fire at Oxford, supporting each other's constancy by their mutual exhortations.
8. Latimer, when tied to the stake, called to his companion, "Be of good cheer, my brother; we shall this day kindle such a flame in England, as I trust in God will never be extinguished."
9. Sanders, a respectable clergyman, was committed to the flames at Coventry. A pardon was offered him, if he would recant; but he rejected it with disdain and embraced the stake, saying, "Welcome, cross of Christ! welcome, everlasting life!"
10. Cranmer had less courage at first. Terrified by the prospect of those tortures which awaited him, or overcome by the fond love of life and by the flattery of artful men, who pompously represented the dignities to which his character still entitled him, if he would merit them by a recantation, he agreed, in an unguarded hour, to subscribe to the doctrines of the papal supremacy, and the real presence.
11. But the court, no less perfidious than cruel, determined that this recantation should avail him nothing; that he should acknowledge his errors in the church, before the people, and afterwards be led to execution.
12. Whether Cranmer received secret intelligence of their design, or repented of his weakness, or both, is uncertain; but he surprised the audience by a declaration, very different from what was expected.
13. After explaining his sense of what he owed to God and his sovereign, "There is one miscarriage in my life, said he, of which, above all others, I severely repent; and that is, the insincere declaration of faith, to which I had the weakness to subscribe.
14. "But I take this opportunity of atoning for my error, by a sincere and open recantation; and am willing to seal with my blood that doctrine, which I firmly believe to be communicated from heaven."
15. As his hand, he added; had erred, by betraying his heart, it should first he punished by a severe, but just doom. He accordingly stretched it out, as soon as he came to the stake ; and without discovering, either by his looks or motions, the least sign of weakness, or even feeling, he held it in the flames till it was entirely consumed.
16. His thoughts, to use the words of an elegant and learned historian, appeared to be totally occupied in reflecting on his former faults ; and he called aloud several times, “ This hand has offended; This wicked hand has offended!”
17. When it dropped off, he discovered a serenity in his countenance, as if satisfied with sacrificing to divine justice the instrument of his crime. And when the fire attacked his body, his soul, totally collected within itself, seemed superior to every external accident, and altogether inaccessible to pain.
STORY OF LOGAN, A MINGO CHIEF.
IN the spring of the year 1774, a robbery and murder were committed on the inhabitants of the frontiers of Virginia hy two Indians, of the Shawanee tribe. The neighboring whites, according to their custom, undertook to pun. ish this outrage in a summary way.
Colonel Cresap, a man infamous for the many murders he had committed on those much injured people, collected a party, and proceeded down the river Kanhaway in quest of vengeance.
2. Unfortunately, a canoe of women and children, with one man only, was seen coming from the opposite shore, unarmed, and unsuspecting any hostile attack from the whites. Cresap and his party concealed themselves on the bank of the river; and the moment the canoe reached the shore, singled out their objects, and at one fire, killed every per
son in it.
3. This happened to be the family of Logan, who had long been distinguished as the friend of the whites. This unworthy return provoked his vengeance.
He accordingly signalised himself in the war which ensued.