formed religion by some new acts; or, by a solemn ratification of the treaty of Leith. He used all his influence to induce the Earl of Murray to forward this object. Failing in his attempts, he renounced the friendship of the Earl, and continued unreconciled to him for nearly two years. Previous to the rising of this Parliament, he preached a sermon in presence of many of the members, in which he accused the nobles of ingratitude, and of a cowardly desertion of the cause of Christ. Before concluding, adverting to the reported marriage of the Queen with a Roman Catholic, he exclaimed, "This, my Lords, will I say, that whensoever the nobility of Scotland who profess the Lord Jesus, consent to have an infidel (and all Papists are infidels,) for their king, you do all that is in your power to banish Christ from the realm; you will bring the vengeance of God on the country, a plague on yourselves, and most probably will add little to the happiness of your sovereign." Such expressions were not to be passed over by the Queen's minions, who instantly carried tidings to the palace, that Knox had preached against her marriage. He was, accordingly, cited to appear before her; when the Queen, bursting into tears, passionately accused him of insulting both her character and government. Waiting till she was somewhat composed, Knox calmly replied, that if it should please God to deliver her from the prejudices in which she had been educated, she would not consider his honest liberty of speech offensive. That, when out of the pulpit, he believed he had seldom given offence to any man; but that, in the pulpit, he was not his own master, being the servant of him who commanded to speak plainly, and not to flatter any one on the face of the earth. "But what have you to do with my marriage?" replied the Queen. Knox was proceeding to explain the extent of his commission as a Minister of the Gospel, when the Queen interrupted him, by again exclaiming, "But what have you to do with my, marriage ?" and, in a tone of indignation and contempt, "What are you in the commonwealth?" "A subject born within the same, Madam," replied Knox; "and, although neither Earl, Lord, nor Baron, yet God has made me (however abject in your eyes,) a profitable member within the same. Yea, Madam, to me it belongs to forewarn of evil, if I foresee it, as much as it doth to any of the nobility. My vocation and conscience crave plainness. Therefore to you I repeat what I have said in public

that whensoever the nobility of this land shall consent that you become subject to an unfaithful husband, they do all that in them lies to renounce Christ, banish his truth, destroy our liberties, and do little comfort to yourself." The Queen again burst into tears, and continued to sob and cry for some time; during which Knox remained silent, and with unaltered countenance. At last he said, "Madam, I declare, I never delighted in the weeping of any of God's creatures; yea, I can scarce abide the tears of my own sons when I correct them, much less can I rejoice in your Majesty's weeping. But knowing that I have given no just cause of offence, I must sustain your tears, rather than hurt my conscience, or betray the commonwealth by my silence." Still more irritated, the Queen commanded him to leave her presence, and wait her pleasure in another room. While there he employed his time in exhorting the ladies of the court to think of death, judgment, and eternity. Meantime the Queen, having consulted with the Lords on the propriety of punishing him, was advised to let him pass without farther remark, and Knox was accordingly allowed to return home.

In the month of August, during the Queen's residence at Stirling, her domestics at Hollyrood House celebrated Mass more openly than had been done when she was present. Several of the Protestants, offended at this breach of the laws, repaired to the palace, and observing numbers entering the chapel, burst in along with them, and demanded why the laws were thus wantonly violated? The comptroller being summoned from sermon at St. Giles, came, accompanied by the provost, but found neither riot nor commotion. Two of the Protestants, however, were taken into custody, and, by order of the Queen, put upon their trial for invasion of the palace. The danger of these two men alarmed the Protestants, and they directed Knox to issue circulars for a meeting at Edinburgh, on the day of the trial. This letter was pronounced treasonable, and a prosecution was instituted against Knox. Previous to his trial, every means was employed to intimidate the Reformer, and lead him to acknowledge his offence. But all proved ineffectual to move the undaunted spirit of Knox. "I have done nothing," said he, "but my duty; and, therefore, whatever shall befal me, my hope is, that my God will enable me to bear it with patience."

When conducted to the court, and standing uncovered at the foot of the table, the Queen, looking at him, burst

"We have

into laughter, and exultingly said, "That man made me weep, and never shed a tear himself; but I will see if I can make him weep." When charged with issuing the letter, he acknowledged it was his. The secretary asked him, if he was not sorry for having written it? 'Before I repent," said Knox, "I must be taught my offence." Offence!" replied Maitland, " you have convoked the Queen's subjects: the offence cannot be denied." "You should distinguish, my Lord, between an unlawful and a lawful convocation. I have often called assemblies, and it was never till now pronounced offensive." "Then was then, but now is now," replied the secretary. no need of such convocations." "The time that has been," replied the Reformer, "is even now before my eyes. I see the poor flock in as much danger as ever; only the Devil has got a visor upon his face. Formerly the Devil came with his own face, discovered by open tyranny, seeking the destruction of all who refused idolatry; but now he comes under the cover of pretended justice, to effect the mischief he could not accomplish by force." "Ye trifle. with him," said the Queen; "who gave him authority to convoke my subjects? Is not that treason?" "No, Madam," replied Lord Ruthven, "for he makes convocation almost daily to hear prayers and sermons, yet we count it no treason." Hold your peace," said the Queen, “and let him answer for himself." "I began, Madam," resumed Knox, "to reason with the secretary, (whom I take to be a better dialectician than your Grace,) that all convocations are not unlawful; and now my Lord Ruthven has given the instance of lawful convocation; which, if your Grace will deny, I address myself to the proof." "I say nothing against your religion," replied the Queen, "nor against convening to your sermons; but what authority have you to convene my subjects at your will, without my authority ?" "At my will,” replied Knox, "I never convened four persons in Scotland. What I have done has been by order of my brethren. But if your Grace complain that it has been done without your commandment, so I answer has been all that has been done within the realm in the work of reformation. And therefore, Madam, before I either feel or profess repentance, I must be convicted of transgressing some just law-a matter which I believe impossible; as in what I have done, I have acted in obedience to the General Kirk of this realm." "You shall not escape me so," replied the Queen. "Is it not treason to accuse a Prince

of cruelty?" The Lord's agreeing, the following sentence of Knox's letter was read: " this fearful summons is directed against the two brethren, to make, no doubt, a prepar ative on a few, that a door may be opened to execute cruelty upon a greater multitude.” "So," said the Queen, "what say you to that?" The whole assembly now looked at the Reformer, anxious to hear what answer he could produce. "Say what you can," exclaimed the Queen; "for I think you have enough to do." "I will first, then, desire of your Grace," rejoined Knox, "and of the most honourable audience, to declare whether the obstinate Papists be not deadly enemies to all who profess the Gospel of Christ; and whether they do not earnestly desire the extermination of them, and of the true doctrine that is taught in this realm ?" The Queen remained silent, but the Lords unanimously exclaimed, "God forbid that our lives or doctrines stood in the power of the Papists; for just experience has taught us that cruelty lies in their hearts." "Who then thinks, my Lords," replied Knox, "that their insatiable cruelty would end in the murder of these two brethren, now unjustly summoned and accused; but that these few are intended to prepare a way against the whole? And now, Madam, I have not accused your Grace; but I affirm, that those who have inflamed your Grace against these two men, are the sons of the Devil, and therefore must do the works of their father the Devil, who was a liar and murderer from the beginning." "You forget yourself," said one of the Lords, "you are not now in the pulpit." "I am in the place,” replied Knox, "where I am demanded of conscience to speak the truth, and therefore the truth I will speak, impugn it who list." After some farther conversation, Knox was permitted to depart. On taking the votes, he was unanimously acquitted of the charge. The secretary, enraged at the decision, brought the Queen into the room, and proceeded again to call the votes. The Lords were deeply offended at this attempt to bias their judgments; and, praising Knox's modesty and sensible answering, again absolved him of the charge.

The mortification of the Queen was excessive; and, learning that the Bishop of Ross, a zealous Roman Catholic, had voted for the acquittal, she openly upbraided him, "Trouble not the child," said she, for he is newly wakened out of his sleep. Why should not the old fool follow the footsteps of those who have passed before him?" The Bishop coldly replied, that it was neither affection

for the man, nor love for his opinions, that had influenced his vote, but the simple truth had compelled him to join in the sentence of acquittal. Thus did God again defeat the designs of Mary against the Reformer. "And that night," observes Knox, "there was neither fiddling nor dancing in the court; for Madam was disappointed of her purpose, which was to have had John Knox in her will, by vote of her nobility."

We judge this pause in our narrative no improper opportunity of introducing an observation upon the temper, manner, and language of our Reformer. Dr. Robertson, in all the refinement of modern liberalism, while he admits the many virtues by which he was distinguished, yet represents him as "rigid and uncomplying, showing no indulgence to the infirmities of others; and as uttering his admonitions with an acrimony and vehemence more apt to irritate than to reclaim." From Dr. Robertson we are not surprised to hear such sentiments; but even Dr. M'Crie, whilst he most eloquently describes the virtues of his character, assumes rather the attitude of an apologist than a defender, and tells us, that "it is not so much the man as the Reformer that should engage our attention," and admits, by implication, that we search him in vain for "courteous manners and winning address," and pronounces his expressions "vehement and harsh." Now, of all this description, whether from Dr. Robertson or Dr. M'Crie, we happen to believe just-not one word. About the characters both of the living and the dead, there often occur most specious misrepresentations and mistakes. We have known a most amiable man to be reputed a misanthrope; a most charitable man a miser; a well-bred man a boor; a modest man proud; and a profound scholar a consummate blockhead. Now if such misrepresentations are often given of living characters, how much more readily may they be circulated of the dead! The living man can live down the slanders of his enemies; or, at all events, there are some who, knowing him in private, will defend him in public; but the dead man has no opportunity of speaking or acting in his own defence; a slander once originated is propagated without examination from volume to volume; and men conclude that it must be true, because it is repeated without contradiction. These slanders against Knox invented by enemies, and, we are sorry to say it, permitted to pass uncontradicted by friends,