es attack
each other, historians may arrive at the truth. Here certainly are
edifying pictures of the corruption of the Spanish regency in the
Netherlands, painted by the President of the state-council, and of the
dishonesty of the President painted by the Regent.

A remarkable tumult occurred in October of this year, at Antwerp. A
Carmelite monk, Christopher Smith, commonly called Fabricius, had left a
monastery in Bruges, adopted the principles of the Reformation, and taken
to himself a wife. He had resided for a time in England; but, invited by
his friends, he had afterwards undertaken the dangerous charge of
gospel-teacher in the commercial metropolis of the Netherlands. He was,
however, soon betrayed to the authorities by a certain bonnet dealer,
popularly called Long Margaret, who had pretended, for the sake of
securing the informer's fee, to be a convert to his doctrines. He was
seized, and immediately put to the torture. He manfully refused to betray
any members of his congregation, as manfully avowed and maintained his
religious creed. He was condemned to the flames, and during the interval
which preceded his execution, he comforted his friends by letters of
advice, religious consolation and encouragement, which he wrote from his
dungeon. He sent a message to the woman who had betrayed him, assuring
her of his forgiveness, and exhorting her to repentance. His calmness,
wisdom, and gentleness excited the admiration of all. When; therefore,
this humble imitator of Christ was led through the streets of Antwerp to
the stake, the popular emotion was at once visible. To the multitude who
thronged about the executioners with threatening aspect, he addressed an
urgent remonstrance that they would not compromise their own safety by a
tumult in his cause. He invited all, however, to remain steadfast to the
great truth for which he was about to lay down his life. The crowd, as
they followed the procession of hangmen, halberdsmen, and magistrates,
sang the hundred and thirtieth psalm in full chorus. As the victim
arrived upon the market-place, he knelt upon the ground to pray, for the
last time. He was, however, rudely forced to rise by the executioner, who
immediately chained him to the stake, and fastened a leathern strap
around his throat. At this moment the popular indignation became
uncontrollable; stones were showered upon the magistrates and soldiers,
who, after a slight resistance, fled for their lives. The foremost