not be far spent before he had done a mischievous deed."

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On May-day in the following year, we find it recorded that "a certain company of godly and innocent persons, to the number of forty men and women," were assembled in the woods of Islington, for prayer and meditation on God's word. They had not been there long before a suspicious-looking stranger, leaning over the hedge that enclosed the field, startled the little company. "Good morning," said he; "you look like men who mean no hurt." ❝ Can you tell us," asked one of the congregation, "whose close this is, and whether we may be so bold as to sit here?" "Yes," he rejoined, you seem to me such persons as mean no harm." He then left them, but it was to fetch the constable and his men, who demanded the books of the worshippers, and carried twenty-seven of the people themselves before Sir Roger Chomley, Chief Justice of the Queen's Bench. Out of the twenty-seven, twenty-two were sent to Newgate. About seven weeks elapsed before any of them were examined, and during that period two of the sufferers were released by death. Of the twenty others, seven escaped with their lives, some of them not without cruel scourging; seven were burnt at Smithfield, and six at Brentford.

One of the Smithfield martyrs was Roger Holland, whose examination is deeply interesting. His Protestantism was as intelligent as it was firm, and he defended himself in a tone of the most earnest feeling. His martyrdom, and that of his six companions, took place on the 27th of June. On this occasion, some officers of Queen Mary read a proclamation, forbidding any of the people, under pain of imprisonment, to speak a word to the forthcoming martyrs. But the prohi

bition was little likely to be obeyed by a certain group there, members of the London Congregation, who surrounded their honoured pastor, Master Bentham, afterwards made Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry by Queen Elizabeth. As the seven witnesses for truth approached, the sympathising band, in spite of the royal edict, pressed forward, affectionately embraced their brethren, and brought them in their arms to the place of suffering. The proclamation was now again read; but the heroic Bentham, nothing daunted, turned his eyes to the crowd, and exclaimed with a loud voice, "We know that they are the people of God, and therefore we cannot choose but wish well to them, and say, God strengthen them! Almighty God, for Christ's sake strengthen them!" The Queen's proclamation availed not: a murmur rolled along the multitude, echoing Amen, Amen, Amen, to the pastor's prayer; and while the officers were abashed, the martyrs gathered courage. "Lord, bless Thy people," said Holland, “and save them from idolatry." These seven martyrs were the last victims of Romish persecution who suffered at Smithfield.

THE REVOLUTION PLOT IN BLOOMSBURY.

Mr. Dobie claims for Bloomsbury "the honour of being the scene of a plot most momentous to the future welfare of Britain;" " yet,” he adds, "it does not seem to be known to any considerable extent, nor properly appreciated." The reader may probably inquire why Mr. Dobie should take such cognizance of the matter; but be it known that Mr. Dobie has written a history of the district wherein this plot was hatched by no less

notable a person than Mrs. Eliza Thomas, the Corinna of Curll, and who lived with her mother in Dyot-street, now George - street, St. Giles's. Mrs. Thomas had undergone many vicissitudes; but above all, in her widowed state, she had been the dupe of a visionary alchemist, whose scheming impoverished herself and daughter. Time and patience at last overcame the pangs which this produced, and she began to stir among her late husband's great clients. She took a house in Bloomsbury, then a fashionable quarter of the town:

"In Palace-yard, at nine, you'll find me there;

At ten, for certain, sir, in Bloomsbury-square."-Pope.

Mrs. Thomas, by means of great economy and a showy appearance, was supposed to be better off in the world than she really was. Her husband's clients received her like one risen from the dead; and they came to visit her, and promised to serve her. At last, the Duke of Montague advised her to let lodgings, which mode of life she declined; she could not make up her mind to receive ordinary lodgers; "but," added she, "if I knew any family who desired such a convenience, I would readily accommodate them." "I take you at your word," replied the Duke, "I will become your sole tenant; nay, don't smile, for I am in earnest ; I like a little more freedom than I can enjoy at home, and I may come sometimes and eat a bit of mutton with four or five honest fellows, whose company I delight in." The bargain was made, though on a deeper scheme than drinking a bottle; and his Grace was to pass for Mr. Freeman, of Herefordshire. In a few days he ordered a dinner for his friends, Jack, Tom, Will, and Ned, good honest country fellows, as his Grace called them. They came at the time appointed; but how

surprised was the widow when she saw the Duke of Devonshire, Lords Buckingham and Dorset, and a certain Viscount, with Sir William Dutton Colt, under the above feigned names. After several meetings at the lady's house, the noble persons, who had a high opinion of her integrity, entrusted her with the grand secret, which was nothing less than the project for the Revolution. Though these meetings were held as privately as possible, suspicions arose, and Mrs. Thomas's house was narrowly watched; but the messengers, who were no enemies to the cause, betrayed their trust, and suffered the noblemen to meet unmolested, or at least without any dread of apprehension.

The Revolution being effected, and the State become more settled, the place of rendezvous was quitted; the noblemen took leave of the lady, with promises of obtaining for her a pension or some place in the Household, as her zeal in the cause merited: besides, she had a very good claim to some appointment, having been ruined by the shutting of the Exchequer. Alas! the court promises had but an aerial foundation, and the noble peers never thought of her more. The Duke of Montague, indeed, made offers of service, and being Captain of the Band of Pensioners, Mrs. Thomas asked him to admit to the post Mr. Gwinnet, a gentleman who had made love to her daughter. This the Duke promised, but upon these terms, that her daughter should herself ask him for the favour. The widow unsuspectingly thanked him but was amazed to find her daughter, in the most determined manner, refuse to ask any such favour of his Grace. Her mother then insisted upon her explaining the cause of her refusal. She then told her that the Duke of Montague had already made an attack upon her; that his designs were dishonourable;

and that if she submitted to ask his Grace one favour, he would reckon himself secure of another in return, which he would endeavour to accomplish by the basest means. Thus, the profligate Duke had made use of the mother for carrying on his political designs: he found her distressed, and, as a recompense for her services, and under the pretext of mending her fortune, assailed the virtue of her daughter, and would provide for her on no other terms than the sacrifice of her child's inno

cence.

BLACK SPOTS IN CLERKENWELL.

Turnmill-street, the western side of which was taken down in 1856-7 for the Clerkenwell Improvements, is one of great antiquity, and of peculiar interest, from its disreputable associations, it having been infamous for centuries past.

Early in the fourteenth century, in the reign of Henry IV., it is mentioned in an old document as Trylmyl-street, as this highway was then called. It is also to be traced, and is distinctly named in one of the earliest maps of London, date 1560. At a later period it is referred to in a letter addressed by Mr. Recorder Fleetwood to the Lord Treasurer Burghley, dated "the vj. of Julie 1585," containing some curious disclosures concerning the thieves of London, and their school for thievery; and having appended to it a list of "Harboringe howses for maisterless men, and for such as lyve by thiefte and other such lyke sheeftes," in which list "Baker's howse, Turnmyll Streate," is mentioned as one of the proscribed places of resort. Stow, writing about this time, explains that Turnmill-street was so