he Queen's subjects, there will be small fear
of a new rebellion." Men greeted each other fearfully, scarcely knowing
if they should ever meet again. But the worst fears of all were
awakened for the Archbishop, Bishop Ridley, and Mr Latimer, within the
Tower, and for Mr Rose outside it. On the 15th of February, Isoult
Avery wrote in her diary--

"In Southwark all this day were the gallows at work, till I am sick at
heart for every sound I hear. The gallows at Aldgate, I thank God,
cannot be seen from our windows, being hid by the gate. If it could, I
scantly know what should come of us. I dare not go forth of the door,
lest I meet some awful sight that I may not forget to my dying day.

"God Himself showeth His displeasure by fearful sights from Heaven. Two
suns should this morrow be seen in the sky, and this even was a rainbow
over London, turned the diverse way, the arch on the ground, and the
points on high. I dare not think what shall come next, either on earth
or in Heaven, unless Christ Himself (that scarce ever was more wanted)
would rend the heavens and come down to save us. Yea, Amen, Lord Jesus,
come Thou quickly!"

But no sign of the Son of Man flashed on that weary land. Not yet was
accomplished the number of the elect; and until the last sheep was
gathered into the fold, there could be no hastening of the kingdom.

The execution of Lady Jane's father quickly followed her own. He died,
as men of his stamp often do, better than he had lived. The "subjection
to bondage from fear of death," in which he had spent his trembling
life, vanished before death came to him. Boldly and bravely this timid,
shrinking soul stood forth at the last, telling all the world that he
died in the faith of Christ, "trusting to be saved by His blood only,
and by no other trumpery." Strange words from one of the weakest men
that ever lived!--yet it is the special characteristic of Christ's
strength that it is "made perfect in weakness." It may be chiefly when
His children come to die that they understand the full meaning of that
passage, "He hath abolished death." For our faith, as it has been said,
is a religion of paradoxes. Strength, whose perfection lies in
weakness,--life, which is founded upon a death--glory, which springs out
of shame and suffering. When the Twelve heard that, to draw all men
unto Him, the Master should be lifted up from the earth, it probably
never dawned upon their minds that the scene o