stretched out upon the Cross, even so receive me within the stretchedout arms of thy mercy." Then rising, the executioner advanced to disrobe her, but she motioned him away, saying, she had not been accustomed to such valets de chambre. Her maidens having done what was necessary, she dismissed them; and, kneeling down, stretched out her neck to the executioner, saying: "My God, 1 have hoped in Thee, I commit myself into Thy hands."

Laying her head on the block, the executioner was so much moved by the trying scene, that his stroke was unsteady, and instead of falling on her neck, the axe alighted on the back of the head. But this did not distress her serenity, she uttered neither shriek nor complaint. On the blow being repeated, her head was severed from the body, and being held aloft by the headsman, he exclaimed: "God save Queen Elizabeth." The Dean of Peterborough had the bad taste to say: "Thus may all her enemies perish," to which the Earl of Kent replied: "Amen."

THE SPANISH ARMADA.

For some considerable time rumours of an invasion of England, by Philip the Second of Spain, were rife through Europe; and by the summer of 1588, all his preparations being complete, he assembled his enormous armada in the harbour of Lisbon. He had not, however, been permitted to collect this fleet without experiencing considerable annoyance from Elizabeth's daring sea-captains. Sir Francis Drake, for instance, singed the Don's whiskers in Cadiz harbour, sailing in and de

stroying eighty Spanish vessels; he then defied the great fleet at the mouth of the Tagus, and, almost within sight of that armament, took possession of a large and heavily laden treasure-ship, with which he returned to England.

Before the Spanish fleet put to sea, Philip addressed a letter to the Queen, consisting of four lines of Latin, in which he demanded that she should forbear from aiding the Protestants of the Netherlands, that she should restore the treasure captured by Drake, and that she should at once acknowledge the supremacy of the Pope. To this insolent appeal, Elizabeth returned one line for answer, written in the same classic language, to the effect that she would obey his mandates at the time of the

Greek Kalends, which, as the Greeks did not reckon time by Kalends, meant-" never."

Philip was aided in his mighty enterprise by all the Catholic Sovereigns of Europe; the Pope renewed the bull of excommunication against England, and the King of Spain gave direct charge to his commanders, that they were in no wise to injure the Queen, but were to arrange for her speedy conveyance to Rome, where she was to be made an offering to the Holy Father.

In the meantime, our countrymen were not idle. There was no standing army in those days; it was the age between the feudal and more modern times, and the safety of the country depended entirely upon the militia. In haughty derision of the papal bull, the Bishop of London was commanded to hurl defiance at the Roman Pontiff, from the pulpit at Paul's Cross; and, as an instance of the spirit of the people, it will be sufficient to state that when the city of London was called upon to furnish its quota of ships and men, the Lord Mayor demanded to know how many of each he was expected to provide. "Five thousand men and fifteen ships," was the reply. After two days' consultation, his lordship reported that his fel

low-citizens had placed ten thousand men and thirty ships at Her Grace's disposal. Not only towns sent forth their chosen warriors, but private individuals, Catholics as well as Protestants, hurried forth to do battle for their native land.

An anxious time was that summer and autumn in this our native England. At Plymouth, Lord Howard of Effingham awaited, with about thirty ships, the advent of his overwhelming foe. While the most breathless anxiety pervaded all minds, it was told that the

GENTLEMAN AND HALBERDIER.

Spanish fleet, of one hundred and thirty ships, had put to sea. For a time the blow was averted by a violent storm, which dispersed the enemy. Again the proud Armada advanced in haughty array. Fleming, the flying pirate, in a little pinnace, descried their fleet, in the form of a crescent, sailing along the coast of Cornwall. He brought the news to the Lord Admiral, who, nothing daunted, directed his sails to be shaken to the wind, and with his colours nailed to the mast, followed by his brave lieutenants, Drake, Hawkins, and Frobisher, advanced in the Oak Royal, at the head of his little fleet. In a short time the English ships were engaged. They selected the largest vessels they could descry as their antagonists, and their own ships being much smaller and more manageable, they

sailed in and out among their enemies, and did them immense damage.

Nothing daunted, the Spaniards pursued their course up the Channel, with the English ships following, and, like a cloud of wasps, never failing to sting when they could seize an opportunity. Every little harbour sent out its gallant bark to strike a blow for the honour of England; and the Dons were so harassed by these incessant attacks, that they were fain to make for Calais harbour. Howard was now in a position to show a bold front, and taking eight of his smaller ships, he filled them with combustible materials, and setting fire to them, directed their prows towards the serried Spanish lines. Horrified at this manœuvre, the galleys crowded sail, and the admiral coming upon them in their distress, captured twelve of their largest ships.

A council of war was now held on board the Spanish fleet, and the Duke of Medina Sidonia, who commanded, determined to make for Spain, by sailing round the northern coasts of this island. But the English cruisers followed him, and every hour one of his ships was captured or sunk. The gallant deeds of England's sailors during those eighteen days' chase, surpass, in wonder and daring, any romance; but the greatest praise we can bestow on them is this, that they never desisted from their purpose while a Spanish ship remained in English waters, and, that of one-hundred-and-thirty sail, closely packed with human beings, destined for the invasion and the enslaving of our ancestors, only fifty-three of his own crest-fallen barks, with shattered rigging, and filled with craven hearts, returned to grace Philip's anticipated triumph.

ELIZABETH AT TILBURY.

Doubtless, the picture most frequently present to the mind, when the name of Elizabeth is spoken, is that amazonian figure, riding in all the panoply of war along the serried lines at Tilbury Fort, her stout heart not quailing, her belief in her subjects' truth and loyalty unshaken, her courage undaunted by the presence on her coasts of the most magnificent armament that ever sailed forth on a mission of conquest.

The army, which, under the orders of the Earl of Leicester, had been for some days encamped on the Essex marshes, was little better than an undisciplined rabble; but still a band of patriot warriors, who, rather than allow the proud Spaniard to set his foot on their native soil, would shed their life's blood.

Mounted on a magnificent charger, bearing on her stout woman's breast a cuirass of polished steel, and with a marshal's baton in her hand, Queen Elizabeth rode along the lines; her head was bare, her auburn tresses, veering towards red, glistened in the sunshine, and as that majestic figure passed along at a foot's pace, attended only by Leicester and Ormonde, the stoutest heart there acknowledged the majesty of England, his courage and his chivalry were strengthened, and not one in that host was unready or unwilling to show proofs of his devotion.

A shout of overwhelming power told all this to the Queen, better than the most finished oratory, and when the bursts of enthusiasm had somewhat subsided, she elevated her voice, and thus addressed the troops:

"My loving people: We have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit ourself to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I do assure you that I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear: I have always behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loving hearts and goodwill of my subjects, and therefore am I come amongst you, as you see me at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of battle, to live or die amongst you all, to lay down for my God, and my kingdom, and for my people, my honour and my blood even in the dust. I know I have the body of a weak feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a King, and of a King of England too; and I think foul scorn that Parma or Spain should dare to invade the borders of my realm, to which, rather than any dishonour should grow by me, I myself will take up arms-I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field." Then, committing her army to the command of the Earl of Leicester, whom she named her lieutenant-general, Elizabeth retired, while the welkin rung again with loud huzzas and wild protestations of loyalty.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

The troops collected at Tilbury were, however, not called upon to serve against the threatened invaders, for the terrible ruin recorded in the last paragraph, had already burst on the vain-glorious armament of Spain.

DEATH OF THE EARL OF LEICESTER.-1588.

MAN-AT-ARMS.

Anxious to bestow some signal reward on the commander of her armies, Elizabeth declared to her council her intention of naming Leicester to the purposely-created office of Lord-lieutenant of England and Ireland. The Queen's faithful minister, Lord Burleigh, believing the step to be fraught with great danger, urged its impolicy so forcibly, that the patent was ultimately revoked. Whether or not Leicester's chagrin at this thwarting of his ambition influenced him, he retired from the court, and died before he could reach his far-famed castle of Kenil

U

worth. There is a romantic report, that his Countess, finding he had prepared a draught of poison for her, changed the cup, and that the Earl drank the poison intended for the destruction of his wife.

DEATH OF LORD BURLEIGH.-1598.,

After many years' patient endurance, both of bodily and mental suffering, it became evident that the great minister of the great Queen was passing to his end. His agonies were intense; and when the power no longer remained to him of raising his hand to his mouth, Elizabeth herself tended him with the solicitude of a mother, and even took the food from the attendants to serve him with her own hands. Harrington, the Queen's godson, says, after Burleigh's death: "The Queen's Highness doth speak of him in tears, and turns aside when he is discoursed of; nay, even forbiddeth his name to be mentioned." Thus deeply did Elizabeth regret the loss of this faithful and veteran minister, who had piloted her and her people through so many shoals and quicksands.

A ROYAL REMINDER.-1600.

Scene-The royal closet. Persons present—The Queen, Lord Howard of Effingham, Sir Robert Cecil, the clerk of the privy seal, and the young favourite, the Earl of Essex. Subject in Debate-The appointment of a lord-deputy to Ireland.

The Queen named Lord William Knollys for the post, to whom Essex most pertinaciously objected, setting forward the rival claims of Sir George Carew. The debate growing warm, Elizabeth made some inaudible remark to Essex, who instantly turned his back upon her with indignant contempt. This aroused the lioness: advancing towards her offending favourite, she gave him a box on the ear, and told him to "Go and be hanged." Instead of enduring this unqueenly outburst, as a prudent courtier would have done, the petulant Earl's hand sought his sword-hilt. Lord Howard threw himself between the actors, to prevent violence, when Essex said, with an oath: "He would not have taken that blow from her father;" and rushing out of the royal prescuce, muttered something about a "King in petticoats."

THE ROMANCE OF THE RING.-1601.

It is hard to believe that that box on the ear was ever forgotten by Essex, but a sort of reconciliation having been effected, the young Earl accepted the disputed post of Lord-deputy of Ireland. It was with much mistrust that he departed to take up his command, for his nature was noble and refined, and his spirit revolted at the thought of the murders and massacres of the native Irish which he would be called upon to sanction. In war with the Spaniards or the Flemings no braver man ever lived, but he felt that fighting the Irish was as brother to brother. Contrary to orders from home, he entered into a treaty with Tyrone, the leader of the Hibernian forces, and this, and others of his doings, being