and be frequently stirred, (for all depends on this,) and, (unless your cook lets it boil too fast and then fills it up with water) it will, when cold, be as firm as a jelly. Lastly, refrain from having any potatoes dressed in your houses, once or twice a week, and address a few seasonable words of encouragement to any in whom you may notice an instance of self-denial, of however humble a kind. May your own hearts and minds suggest many improvements on these humble hints, from

SERENA.

THE DAYS OF LAUD.-PART II.

CHAPTER 1.

THREE years passed heavily over the drooping head of Lucy Wentworth, yet in that long and weary period there were moments of brightness that nerved her to endure, that were as a going "from strength to strength.". These moments were spent in the Fleet Prison, praying with the emaciated prisoner who suffered there, bathing his parched lips, watching his gradual decay! These were the bright moments of Lucy's life, for when the rigorous laws of the prison, or the wanton cruelty of the jailor kept her from her husband's side, her imagination painted the captive's sufferings in still darker hues. In the daytime her spirit was worn with a vain yearning to withstand the power that held her hopelessly away from him, and she would sometimes upbraid herself with enjoying the very light and air which were denied to him. In the night-time sleep seldom visited her eyes, and when it did, dreams made her afraid. Sometimes she fancied she stood by his dying couch, and his pale face reproached her with cruel neglect. Sometimes she imagined she heard him calling her to save him from those who were going to scourge him, and still his voice would grow fainter-fainter till it ceased, and she awoke again, crying to the executioners to show pity; and behold it was a dream! but a DECEMBER, 1845.

2 K

dream which she knew might at any time be fearfully realized.

Atter

Mark Wentworth had been brought to trial. bury and Hobbes appeared against him. He was found guilty, and sentenced to be publicly whipped as a sower of sedition. This sentence, however, had not been executed. Public affairs were assuming every day a more perplexing appearance, and their shadows fell propitiously over some of the lesser victims of usurped power. Lucy Wentworth was now "heard in that she feared.” Her husband was not put to open shame or excruciating torture, and on the night of the second of November 1640, she lay down to rest with a calm for which she could scarcely account resting on her spirits.

Lucy slept, and she dreamed. She thought she stood alone in a large and sumptuous chamber in which was everything that could attract the eye, or give pure pleasure to the refreshed senses. But one object only fixed the dreamer's attention. It was a large parchment scroll, on which was written in letters of blood a long list of names. The Lollards' names were there. The victims of Arundel—the victims of Gardiner-the one erring victim of him whose Romish nurture still led him to believe the episcopal power had to do with matters of blood. Wrongs more recent were reckoned on that scroll. There Lucy found the names of Thacker and Cuping, of Penry and Udal,* and as she read on she heard a voice saying, “Verily I say unto you, all these things shall come upon this generation." She turned to know who spoke, and saw two men in glittering armour. One of them carried a drawn sword, the other bore in either hand the crown of England, and

*Fuller, Book ix.

the mitre of Canterbury, and Lucy thought she heard the man with the sword say to his fellow, as he laid his hand on the emblems of civil and spiritual power. 'These must be cleansed.' 6 They are bright and shining,' thought Lucy, and need no cleansing.' But she looked again; spots of blood like rust were eating into the precious metal of which they were made. The scene of her dream changed and became confused. Sometimes she heard the roar of cannon, and saw the flashing of opposing swords. Sometimes she passed over battle-fields where the bones of many slaughtered were whitening around her, yet seemed her heart to be divested of its usual terrors, for one kept whispering in her ear. "A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee."

The next day, as Lucy sat pondering this dream in her mind, she was roused from her reverie, by hearing her brother exclaim, 'They come, they come! Even now they are on their way to the House, and they will gird up their loins for the fight, which must yet be fought ere our Israel shall be delivered from the hand of the oppressor.'

Lucy sighed as she took her place at the window by her brother's side. Cuthbert used the phraseology of Scripture still, but out of it he framed watchwords of strife and defiance. He had entered warmly into the irritated feelings of the Scottish malcontents, had swelled the shout of victory as he and his fellows drove the English forces before them at Newburn, and after witnessing the signing of the Treaty of Rippon, he had returned to London restless, and eager for similar scenes, and similar victories in his native land. Lucy found no comfort in his exulting tones, or his vengeful

threatenings, but old Catherine Redford sometimes fancied an angel had said to him, "The Lord is with thee, thou mighty man of valour," and she began to look upon him as the future Gideon, who was to avenge her wrongs upon the Midianites. Age had dimmed the sight of Catherine Redford, but she clasped her hands with the fervour of feeling, and raised her blind eyes towards heaven as she heard the joyous cries of the crowd who were conducting their favourite members to the theatre of coming triumphs in the cause of freedom, and of all the sins that marred them.

'Pym!' exclaimed Cuthbert eagerly, pointing him out to his sister. Uncompromising principle and wisdom not easily matched. "The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness.”

Lucy reflected on her brother's words. She knew little of the individual to whom he applied them, but she questioned within herself, Shall many of those heads that must be filled with schemes of earthly policy, intricate plans, expediencies, be really found, when they are covered with hoar hairs, in the way of righteousness?"

6

'John Hampden, and no ship-tax!' said Cuthbert, echoing the words of the throng below. Do you remember, Lucy, when we stood together on the deck of the ship which should have carried us and John Hampden to another world, how ardently the old sailor thanked God that he was not suffered to depart. More eyes will glisten, and more hearts will glow, as our patriot passes on to St. Stephen's, than when King Charles rides thither in all his empty parade.'

Lucy did remember standing together on the deck of the vessel, and this recollection had retained her thoughts, and prevented them from following her bro