and can you passengers, as they floated down the stream, were amusing themselves by watching the banks glide away from them, when the priest, turning towards Brown, said to him, insolently, "You are too near me, get further off. Do you know who I am?" "No, sir," answered Brown. "Well then, you must know that I am a priest." "Indeed, sir! are you a parson, or vicar, or a lady's chaplain?" "No; I am a soul priest," he haughtily replied. "I sing mass to save souls." "Do you, sir?" rejoined Brown, somewhat ironically; "that is well done; tell me where you find the soul when you begin the mass?" "I cannot," said the priest. "And where you leave it when the mass is ended?" "I do not know." What," continued Brown, with marks of astonishment; "you do not know where you find the soul, or where you leave it, and yet you say that you save it?" "Go thy way," said the priest, angrily, "thou art a heretic, and I will be even with thee." Thence-forward, the priest and his neighbour conversed no more together. At last they reached Gravesend, and the boat anchored. 66 As soon as the priest had landed, he hastened to two of his friends, Walter and William More, and all three, mounting their horses, set off for Canterbury, and denounced Brown to the archbishop. In the meantime, John Brown had reached home; three days later, his wife, Elizabeth, who had just left her chamber, went to church, dressed all in white, to return thanks to God for delivering her in the perils of childbirth. Her husband, assisted by her daughter Alice, and the maidservant, were preparing for their friends the feast usual on such occasions, and they had all of them taken their seats at table, joy beaming in every face, when the street door was abruptly opened, and Chilton, the constable, a cruel, savage man, accompanied by several of the Archbishop's apparitors, seized upon the worthy townsman. All sprang from their seats in alarm; Elizabeth and Alice uttered the most heart-rending cries; but the primate's officers, without showing any emotion, pulled Brown out of the house, and placed him on horseback, tying his feet under the animal's belly. The cavalcade rode off quickly, and Brown was thrown into prison, and there left forty days. At the end of this time, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Rochester called before them the impudent fellow who doubted whether a priest's mass could save souls, and required him to retract the "blasphemy." But Brown, if he did not believe in the mass, believed in the Gospel. "Christ was once offered," he said, "to take away the sins of the many. It is by this sacrifice we are saved, and not by the repetitions of the priests." At this reply the Archbishop made a sign to the executioners, one of whom took off the shoes and stockings of this pious Christian, while the other brought in a pan of burning coals, upon which they set the martyr's feet. The English laws in truth forbade torture to be inflicted on any subject of the crown, but the clergy thought themselves above the laws. "Confess the efficacy of the mass," cried the two bishops to poor Brown. "If I deny my Lord upon earth," he replied, "he will deny me before his Father in heaven." The flesh was burnt off the soles of his feet, even to the bones, and still John Brown remained unshaken. The bishops, therefore, ordered him to be given over to the secular arm, that he might be burnt alive. On the Saturday preceding the festival of Pentecost, in the year 1517, the martyr was led back to Ashford, where he arrived just as the day was drawing to a close. A number of persons were collected in the street, and among them was Brown's maid-servant, who ran off crying to the house, and told her mistress. "I have seen him! he was bound, and they were taking him to prison." Elizabeth hastened to her husband, and found him sitting with his feet in the stocks, his features changed by suffering, and expecting to be burnt alive on the morrow. The poor woman sat down beside him, weeping most bitterly, while he, being hindered by his chains, could not so much as bend towards her. "I cannot set my feet to the ground," said he, “for the bishops have burnt them to the bones; but they could not burn my tongue, and prevent my confessing the Lord, O Elizabeth! continue to love Him, for He is good; bring up our children in His fear." On the following morning, it was Whitsunday, the brutal Chilton and his assistants, led Brown to the place of execution, and fastened him to the stake. Elizabeth and Alice, with his four other children and his friends, desirous of receiving his last sigh, surrounded the pile, uttering cries of anguish. The faggots were set on fire, while Brown, calm and collected, and full of confidence in the Saviour, clasped his hands, and repeated this hymn, which Fox has preserved: "O Lord I yield me to thy grace, Grant me mercy for my trespass; Lord, I will bow, and thou shalt beat, Let never my soul come in hell's heat." The martyr was silent; the flames had consumed their victim. Their redoubled cries of anguish rent the air. His wife and daughter seemed as if they would lose their senses. The bystanders showed them the tenderest compassion, and turned with a movement of indignation towards the executioners. The brutal Clinton perceiving this, cried out, "Come along, let us toss the heretic's children into the flames, lest they should one day spring from their father's ashes." He rushed towards Alice, and was about to lay hold of her, when the maiden shrank back, screaming with horror. To the end of her life, she recollected the fearful moment, and to her we are indebted for the particulars. The fury of the monster was checked. Such were the scenes passing in England shortly before the Reformation. From D'Aubigné's Reformation in England. AN ADDRESS TO YOUNG CHRISTIANS. I SEE some in this assembly who are distinguished by the fear of God in their youth-some Isaacs, who prefer an evening walk to meditate, to the crowded avenues of dissipation-some Josephs, whose image is "a fruitful bough by a well"--some Davids, who love the harps of Zion, and have no ear for the "song of the drunkard," or "the mouth of fools"-some Timothys, who "from childhood have known the Scriptures, which are able to make them wise unto salvation." And I hail you on your early escape from the paths of the destroyer in your early separation from a world which attracts only to show its emptiness, and elevates only to depress; on your early union with the wise and good. Go forth in all "the beauties of holiness, honour God, and serve your generation according to his will. Religiously occupy the stations which you are to ennoble, and form the connections which you are to bless, Adorn the doctrine of God your Saviour in all things. Earnestly pursue the glorious course which you have begun, be not weary in well-doing; grow in grace as you advance in years, "abound more and more in knowledge and all judgment, approve the things that are excellent, and be sincere and without offence till the day of Christ." And what hinders any of you, my young friends, from joining yourselves to the Lord. Weigh the reasonings which you have heard, suspend for a while the influence of your passions, and endeavour to feel the force of the motives which have been adduced. Deliberate, or rather decide, for there is no time for hesitation;" now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation;" the language of the Redeemer is "to-day,' and will you say "to-morrow. Every delay will leave you more remote from the God you have to seek; every delay will place more barriers between you and heaven; every delay will increase your crimes, your passions, your aversions; every day will diminish the efficacy of means, the period of divine patience, the time of your probation. While you hesitate you die; while you promise yourselves years, perhaps you have not days, perhaps the shuttle has passed the loom that wove thy winding sheet, perhaps in yonder shop lies rolled up, and ready to be served off, the piece of cloth destined to be thy shroud, perhaps the feet of them that have buried thy companion, are at the door to carry thee out.-Jay. MEMOIR OF JONATHAN ROBERTSHAW. JONATHAN ROBERTSHAW was born at Castle Street, near Todmorden, on the 30th of June, 1842. When not more than five years of age, he was admitted into the Wesleyan Methodist Association Sunday School. He possessed an amiable disposition, and soon gained the affection of the teachers, and made rapid progress in learning. He also attended a week-day school; and manifested not merely a willingness but a desire to improve the advantages he enjoyed. His regular attendance at the Sunday Schoolthe steady way in which he conducted himself, afforded the most pleasing indications that he had become the subject of strong religious impressions, which induced the conductors of the Sunday School to intrust a class to his care. Considering his tender years, perhaps it was not discreet; but in his case it was not followed by any painful results, either to himself or others. Soon he became a favourite with scholars as well as with the teachers, and gave promise of a life of protracted honour and usefulness. It soon became evident that the truths taught at the school were, under the influence of the Holy Spirit, producing the most decided effects on his mind. With eager eye and grateful hearts did the conductors of the school observe the progress of his spiritual life; and they often looked |