her spiritual service to God, by which I mean a service moved by the Spirit of Christ which dwells in His Body.

'Why should He not say "from the face of my sins,"' says Augustine on the thirty-eighth Psalm, 'Who said to Saul, "Why persecutest thou Me," Who, however, being in Heaven, now suffered from no persecutors ? But just as, in that passage, the Head spake for the Body, so here too the Head speaks the words of the Body; whilst you hear at the same time the accents of the Head Itself also. Yet do not either, when you hear the voice of the Body, separate the Head from it; nor the Body when you hear the voice of the Head; because "they are no more twain but one flesh."'*

It is a more difficult task to see how we shall reconcile the words of Christ, 'Ye know not what spirit ye are of,' with the anathemas, (thirty in one Psalm, the 109th,) Contend Thou with them that contend with me. Let his children be fatherless. Let his days be few.'

Well, then, I must say that there are things described in Scripture as the issue of faith, which, if I did not hear God saying so, I would perhaps fail to see sprung from that principle. The eleventh of Hebrews shows this. But when I hear God saying it, I see that the principle has room, and I may have been forgetful of its probable presence.

The need of zeal, the need of justice, the need of the destruction of the enemies of God, may be forgotten, if we measure all Christ's acts and words by the sentiment, The Son of Man is not come to destroy but to save,' and the wrath of the Lamb become impossible because of our sense of the love of God. 'He shall rule them with a rod of iron;' Is not this in the Psalm which bids us, 'Kiss the Son, lest He be angry'? 'Until all enemies be put under His feet;' Is not this in the Psalm which declares Christ's glory and session at the right hand of God, and is it not made by the Apostle the very foundation of the ultimate victory of those that are Christ's? He who sought the wandering Samaritans who offended against the Son of Man, was filled with a different spirit toward the proud hypocrites who offended against the Holy Ghost. "Woe unto you! How can ye escape the damnation of hell?' If, however, we have any faith or sense of Christ in ancient or newer covenants of God's Will to man, we know the judgments of God led men at all times to repentance, and the tenderest desire for their return to God is compatible with the zeal which denounces all that is carnal and false.

As to the other question, 'How can Christ be in the Psalms when the eternal life and immortality He brings appears so faintly there?' Davison says the Law had not manifestly the motive of eternal life, because man would think it came by the Law; it is the gift of God by Jesus Christ. So we may say of all the Old Testament; if it was God's will, (and it was so,) to make the Gospel have this prerogative, to bring life and immortality to light, then God may not have so manifestly presented it *See S. Augustine's Expositions on Psalms: on Psalm xxxviii. 3, Oxford Trans

lation.

in the Psalms. But the answer is nearer still. If Christ be there, Christ the hope of glory,-then life and immortality and eternal hopes, and not transitory promises or carnal motives, were there, there effectively, constantly, after the measure of the Gift of God.

The Providence of God, the city of God, the enemies of God, and the supplies of God's grace, I need not dwell on. These are in the Psalms, and they all have their reference to Christ, easy to understand, constantly applied in the New Testament, and generally acknowledged. Christ and His Church explain these.

So I have endeavoured to set forth a principle, which we may fail in applying, but which I conceive Christ and His Apostles exhibit. It seems also to be proved by what I believe is a fact concerning the Canon of the four first centuries. The early Church does not seem nervously anxious about the number of the books of the Gospels or the possession of a full canon of the Epistles; their faith was not lost nor their love destroyed by one less or one more of the Sacred Scriptures of the New Testament, for they were so fully persuaded of the fulness of the Scriptures of the Old Covenant to present Christ to their souls for salvation, that the study of them was practically accepted as making the Word of Christ dwell in them in all wisdom and spiritual understanding, for what the Old contained was what is revealed in the New.

I shall end as Bishop Hall said about the use of devotion. 'I hate superstition on the one side, and looseness on the other: but I find it hard to offend in too much devotion, easy in profaneness.' So I most humbly say respecting this matter of Christ in the Psalms.'

CAMEOS FROM ENGLISH HISTORY.

CAMEO XCII.

JACK CADE.

1450-1451.

THE disasters of the English army in France added to the discontent of the people at home, and all losses and misfortunes were attributed to Suffolk's treason. His being raised to the rank of a duke seemed only to mark him out for greater odium, and as Gaveston, Spenser, and De Vere had fallen of old, so was he now to fall.

The first commencement of his danger came in the winter of 1450. A man named William Taillebois was found lurking near the Star Chamber door, with some armed followers; and Lord Cromwell, the treasurer, who had been appointed by Glocester, declared that it was to murder him, and succeeded in getting the man fined three thousand

pounds, in spite of Suffolk's interference on his behalf, which only led to the conclusion that he had been instigated by the hated favourite. Soon after, Adam Moleyns, Bishop of Chichester, who had been his partner in the treaty of Nanci, was sent down to Portsmouth to pay the troops who were to be sent to France; but a report arose that he was the man who had sold Maine to the French, and the mob of Portsmouth rose on him and murdered him. It would seem that in his deadly terror the Bishop had endeavoured to persuade the people that it was Suffolk's doing, and not his-even, it was reported, saying that Suffolk had a seat in the King of France's council, and was as much trusted here as there.

Whatever the Bishop had said, or whatever rumour made of it, Parliament met in a mood of bitter indignation against Suffolk. He on his part thought it best to meet the storm, and demanded leave to clear himself before the King, Lords, and Commons. It was a spirited and dignified speech, beginning thus:

'Most high and dread sovereign Lord, I suppose well that it be comen to your ears, to my great heaviness and sorrow, the odious and horrible language that runs through your realm almost in every common's mouth, sounding to my highest charge and heaviest slander by a certain keeper of your privy seal, made at his death, as it is said.'

Then, as the best refutation of the calumny, he described his father's services, ending by his death before Harfleur-how his eldest brother had died at Agincourt, his second and third at Jargeau, on which day he himself had been made prisoner, when he had to pay £20,000 for his ransom, and in the meantime his younger brother died a hostage for him. 'I was myself armed, in your father's days and yours, thirty-four winters, and have had the Garter thirty. For seventeen years I abode in the wars without coming home or seeing this land, and have served you since my return fifteen years. All these things considered, if for a Frenchman's promise I should be either false or untrue to your high estate, or to this your land that I am born of, there could be no earthly punishment but it would be too little for me.'

Lord Cromwell seems to have been the chief mover in the attack upon Suffolk, and this honest defence went for nothing with the hotly prejudiced commons, who, four days after, insisted that Suffolk should be committed to the Tower till he should clear himself of the charges current against him. The Lords declared that there was no ground for his imprisonment, and a declaration was then made by which he was accused of having sold England to France, and in preparation for the coming of the French, 'stuffed his castle at Walsingford with guns and gunpowder,' to give them a place of refuge and succour.

On this ridiculous accusation it was necessary to arrest him; but the Archbishop of Canterbury at once resigned the chancellorship, which was given to the other primate, Cardinal Kemp.

In ten days' time the bill of impeachment was brought. It charged

him with having advised Dunois and the other French ambassadors to bring their king to depose Henry, and set on the throne the little Margaret, only daughter to John, the last Duke of Somerset, who was by Glocester's death Henry's nearest heir, if the Beauforts were reckoned legitimate, she being betrothed to John de la Pole, Suffolk's son. Next, that he had corruptly procured the release of the Duke of Orleans, and had promised Maine to King René, and that he had continually betrayed the King's plans to the French.

These preposterous charges almost shew the real guiltlessness of the veteran on whom national hatred had fixed. Not a word was said of Glocester's death; and this, in the state of the public mind, was a virtual acquittal of Suffolk on that head.

However, the English mind had fallen into a state of frenzied prejudice, and demanded a victim. Suffolk was committed to the Tower, and there remained for a month, until seventeen new articles were produced against him. Most of them were details of the former ones, and the others vague hearsay matters. The Duke was brought to a house in the garden of the Palace of Westminster, with his own good will, for he had been told that the Tower was unsafe for him, and was brought before the peers on the 13th of March. He knelt down before the House, and was asked what he said to the charges laid against him.

They were too horrible to answer, he said. First it was treason to regard the Lady Margaret as so near the crown; then everyone knew he had intended to marry his son to the daughter of Henry Beauchamp, Duke of Warwick, if she had not died; as for the cession of Maine, the whole council were as much concerned in it as himself; and the other charges were frivolous.

The proceedings went no further that day. The King, the Council, and most of the Lords, were convinced of his innocence; but the Commons were blinded by prejudice, believed him a traitor, and made it known that they would grant no supplies unless the Court sacrificed him the Queen's minion, as they absurdly fancied the old warrior who had fought in many a campaign before she was born.

The concern of the Court was then to put the Duke out of reach till this fury should overpass; and for this purpose the King sent for all the Lords, spiritual and temporal, to his chamber, and placed Suffolk before them, on his knees, again to answer for himself. He said that he had already shown the falsehood of all, swore that he knew no more of these treasons than an unborn child, and unreservedly threw himself on the King's mercy.

The Chancellor, Cardinal Kemp, then declared that, as he had not put himself on his peerage for trial, the King made no decision as to his guilt or innocence, but merely commanded him to quit the realm on the 1st of May for five years. Lord Beaumont then protested in the name of all the Lords that their acquiescence in this sentence was not to be a precedent for depriving them of their rights of being tried by their

peers; and a few days after, the King adjourned Parliament, to meet on the 19th of March at Leicester.

The populace were in a dreadful state of excitement, inflamed by political ballads and by seditious whisperers, who went about under feigned names, such as Bluebeard, and the like. Two thousand persons assembled at St. Giles, and searched the fields around it, in hopes of seizing and destroying the Duke ere he left London. He had notice, and evaded them; but they found his horse and servant, and used them cruelly.

Suffolk safely reached his own estates, set his affairs in order, and wrote a beautiful letter of advice to his son, of which the Pastons preserved a copy,-bidding him to honour and obey God first, next the King, and then his mother; to avoid evil company, and choose good advisers. Doing thus, with the mercy of God, ye shall do right, and live in right much worship, and great heart's-rest and ease. And I will be to you as good lord and father as my heart can think. And last of all, as heartily and as lovingly as ever father blessed his child on earth, I give you the blessing of our Lord and of me, which of His infinite mercy increase you in all virtue and good living, that your blood may be His grace from kindred to kindred, multiply in this earth to His service in such wise as after the departing from this wretched world here, ye and they may glorify Him eternally amongst His angels in heaven.

Written by mine hand

The day of my departing fro this land.

Your true and loving father,

SUFFOLK.'

It was a longer farewell than Suffolk knew. Those who thirsted for his blood were resolved not to be balked, and kept their watch on the

seas.

His last measure was to call the knights and gentlemen of Suffolk together, and make oath of his innocence on the Sacrament before them. Then he embarked at Ipswich, with three ships, and on approaching Calais, on the 2nd of May, sent his smallest vessel to learn whether he might land there. A large ship came out to meet him, and a message was sent to desire him to come on board and speak with the captain. As soon as he set foot on deck he was greeted with the words, 'Welcome, traitor!' and made prisoner. He was allowed the attendance of his confessor, and wrote a long letter to the King; and thus two days passed, but his heart sank when he found that the name of the ship was the St. Nicolas of the Tower, for he had been told that he should be safe only if he escaped the Tower! On the third day he was set before a mock tribunal of the rude sailors, found guilty, and sentenced, taken out into a boat, and told to lay his head down, for he should die like a knight, and the head of this brave old gentleman was hacked off with