by Laud, produced his Episcopacy by Divine Right as an antidote to this feeling, but it is doubtful how far it was of any use at the time

it was written. Men were too heated for the calm weighing of such subjects.

After eleven years without a national council, the Short Parliament met, and merited its name by being dissolved in three weeks' time. Laud enjoyed the unenviable credit of its dissolution, and he was called William the Fox, and was hunted by five hundred wild fellows in consequence. In fact, his life was in danger, and he knew it. His enemies were legion, and every day they became stronger. Not only Independents and Presbyterians, but Jesuits also, hated him, and the hour of their triumph was drawing nigh.

Six months after the Short Parliament was dissolved the Long Parliament met. Strafford was tried, condemned, and put to death, and the Church was 'purged.' A debate took place on Laud's conduct, and at the end of it he was voted a traitor and taken in his barge to the house of Maxwell, gentleman-usher, whence he was, after ten weeks, summoned to the bar of the House to hear the articles which had been framed against him. In an able speech Laud repelled the charge of treason against Church and State, and ended in David's words, They take their counsel to take away my life, but my hope is in Thee, O God!'

?

After a short delay he was conveyed to the Tower, followed by the abuses of a mob. Here he was visited by his friends, some of whom advised him to escape. But,' argued the Archbishop, why should I go to prolong a miserable life? And whither should I go If I went to a Popish country, every one would say there were good reasons for believing me a traitor to the Church of England; and if I went among Protestants, every Anabaptist would hate me and pluck my beard.' So Laud refused to evade the custody of his jailer when he might easily have done it, and in a while the opportunity was lost, and his durance became stricter.

Strafford and Laud were in the Tower at the same time, but were not allowed to meet. The unfortunate Earl desired Laud's prayers on the eve of his execution, and his blessing when he went forth to die. The Archbishop, worn out with sorrow and years, could scarcely reach the window whence Strafford was to be seen proceeding to the block, but by a great effort he appeared at the place and held up his hands in the attitude of one who blesses, without uttering a word. The Earl looked up and said, 'Farewell, my lord. May God protect your innocency!'

The Bishops were now all deprived of their authority, and their power passed into other hands. Convocation was superseded by a body of clergy elected by Parliament. The King, unfortunately, agreed to this change. God be merciful to the sinking Church!" was Laud's comment. All the revenues of the bishops and chapters were taken for the service of the Commonwealth, and the civil war began in earnest.

After two years' imprisonment Laud was visited by Prynne, who bore a warrant, and had a retinue of three well-armed soldiers. The Archbishop was in bed, but he rose and attended Prynne while he searched the apartment for papers. These tell-tale documents were carried off and examined, and out of them were 'hammered' fourteen articles, forming the groundwork of Land's trial. As, however, these

were not considered sufficient, ten more were added. In these articles he was accused chiefly of establishing arbitrary government, and of subverting the laws. The articles were presented to him, and he was bidden to prepare his answer in a week. Legal advisers were granted him, and some money allowance out of his sequestered revenues, and a little extension of time was also allowed. On November 13th he appeared at the bar of the House as a criminal, and his trial dragged on wearily for many months. No less than twenty days were occupied in his own defence. Many times he was summoned from the Tower for no purpose but to be a gazing-stock to the people.

Probably no man was ever accused of so many crimes, or had so many witnesses against him. Everything he had ever done had the mark of the beast upon it. His restoration of a broken painted window-the pictures on his palace walls-his disposal of patronage -his private conversations-his personal infirmities-his having called a man Sirrah:' and probably no man ever made a better or a braver defence. It wrung commendation even from the bitter Prynne. It was, in his words, full, gallant, and pithy,' but it argued him obstinate rather than innocent, more impudent than penitent.

On Nov. 1, 1643, Laud was summoned to the bar of the Commons, when the Speaker told him an ordinance was drawn up to attaint him of high treason. On the 11th he appeared again, and answered the ordinance-attainder with a plea of not guilty. A reply to his answer was given on the 13th, and the House thereupon voted him guilty of high treason.

Early in the year following the attainder was ratified (though the judges one and all declared there was no treason in the things laid to his charge), and in six days after the ratification he was to die, and on the gibbet. He heard the news with composure, but begged to be beheaded, which request was granted. From the scaffold he addressed the people in a speech of considerable length. He said he had come to the end of his life, and though he had prayed the cup might pass, for he was not in love with mortal agony, yet God's will must be done. Many good and great men had died by the executioner, to whom he dared not to compare himself, and he might well, therefore, be content. He vindicated the King from the charge of Popery, lamented sectarian divisions, cleared himself from treason, and forgave all the world. After this he made an affecting prayer, desiring the people to join him in it; and then, kneeling at the block, he continued to pray until he gave the sign for the axe to fall.

His body, buried at first (as he would have wished, with the funeral rites of the Church he loved) at Allhallows, Barking, was removed, about the time of the Restoration. to the chapel of St. John's College, Oxford, the home of his University life,

WILLIAM JUXON.

FOR fifteen years after Laud's death there was no Archbishop of Canterbury. When, however, the King enjoyed his own again,' William Juxon, who had been the Bishop of London, became Primate of all England, but did not live long to superintend the affairs of the

Church. He was, at the time of his appointment, a man full of years, and one who had seen much trouble and many vicissitudes.

Born in 1582 at Chichester, and educated at the Merchant Taylors' School, Juxon proceeded to St. John's College, Oxford, where he became acquainted with Laud. When the latter was made Bishop of St. David's, Juxon succeeded him as President of the College. In this position he served the University twice as its ViceChancellor, and, after filling various dignified offices in the Church, he again succeeded Laud, this time as Bishop of London. In this important post he charmed the Londoners with his pleasant manners and unaffected amiability. Those who hated bishops were constrained to admire the meekness and unambitious temper of Juxon. He wielded even the Lord High Treasurer's white staff with such prudence and judgment that men's envy was reduced to a minimum, though many courtiers never forgave Laud for getting the Bishop of London an appointment which they thought clearly belonged to one of themselves.

After five years of Treasurership, Juxon resigned the white staff of office in consequence of increasing storms, but so admirably had he conducted the department that he placed in the exchequer nearly a million of money.

Juxon was, as we can easily suppose, a plain, honest counsellor. whose advice, as clerk of the closet, the King often asked, but did not always follow.

This was the case on one notably unhappy occasion. Charles signed the bill which made the Earl of Strafford a traitor, and consigned him to a traitor's doom. He signed it against the remonstrances of his conscience—he signed it to appease, if haply it might, the madness of the people-he signed it against the advice of the honest Juxon, who plainly told him, if he did not believe in Strafford's guilt nothing on earth should move him to assent to the bill. But, in spite of all, Charles did put his name to the bill, and in consequence of that deed he never enjoyed any more peace. He had sacrificed his servant to save his ship, and by this act of weakness and perfidy, more than by any other, he sealed his own fate.

When at length the King had lost his liberty, and the Parliament had decided to weigh his conduct in their balance, Juxon attended the fallen monarch, and greatly refreshed his spirit. After the trial, with Juxon by his side, Charles prepared for death. Other ministers of the Gospel proffered their services, but the King, thanking them for their good wishes, said he would have no spiritual advisers but Juxon, whom he had known so long as a man well able to minister heavenly consolations to his soul. On the Sunday before the King's execution Juxon preached on the text, 'In the day when God shall judge the secrets of all men by Jesus Christ, according to my Gospel.' The Holy Communion was then administered, and the day wore away in religious exercises, as did also Monday, the last day of the King's life. The Bishop did not leave him until after the midnight of Monday, and he promised to be with him at an early hour. The last moments of Charles have been so often and so well described that we need not here fully enter into them, touching as they are and ever will be. The last words of the Bishop and the King stand out sharply from the confused page of history.

'There is but one stage more,' said Juxon. It is a short one, but it will carry you from earth to Heaven.'

'I go,' replied Charles, from a corruptible to an incorruptible

crown.

'Yes,' rejoined the Bishop, you are exchanged from a temporal to an eternal crown; a good exchange.'

The King having delivered his badge to the Bishop with the one word 'Remember,' was at a single blow beheaded. What his last word meant was much discussed at the time, and the ruling powers thought it suspicious. Juxon said it merely referred to the conveyance of the badge to his eldest son, accompanied with his last wish, 'to forgive those who had put him to death.' After some investigation Bishop Juxon was set at liberty, and allowed to go where he liked. He had an estate in Gloucestershire, and there he took up his abode. Not knowing whether he should be molested or no, he prepared a secret chamber, into which he could retire whenever unwelcome visitors came to Little Compton, and, despite the tyranny of those in power, he read the Church Service every Sunday at a gentleman's seat hard by as long as he remained in his retreat.

At the Restoration, which was brought about by the removal of Cromwell's master mind, nine Bishops were found alive, and of these Juxon was chosen, with almost universal satisfaction, to fill the chair of St. Augustine. In consequence of the Archbishop's great age and many infirmities, Sheldon, now Bishop of London, undertook the difficult task of presiding over the Savoy* Conference. This Conference consisted of twelve Bishops and twelve Dissenting Ministers, and it met to consider and settle the Liturgy of the Church of England. It was now the good Baxter wished to give the Church a Liturgy of his own composition. The Prayer-book, which had grown up in the long ages, was to give place to one drawn up by Baxter in a fortnight!

At the coronation of Charles the aged Primate did his part, assisted by the Bishop of London. This was his last public act. During the latter days of his life Convocation sat, and transacted business. Special services were appointed for certain days, and the Prayer-book was carefully compared with the primitive liturgies. Alterations were made, amounting, it has been computed, to about six hundred, and when the work was done it was laid before the King, by him recommended to Parliament, and then made part of the law of the land.

About a year after this work was completed the venerable Archbishop departed this life, and his body was buried in his College Chapel, though with a funereal grandeur which had been ever distasteful to him, and in this instance, directly at variance with his last wishes. G. S. O.

* So called, because it was held in the hall of the Savoy Hospital.