conducted to the shore, stood still on the wreck Dobson, whe was below in the boat waiting, calied out—“Come, make hasto my lord, if the tide goes all out, you'll a' have to walk over in the mud." The stranger still continued looking upon the shore, at last, however, he jumped into the boat, and said to one of the men-"Row me in there, just by that clump of trees, and quickly, or the tide will leave it." When they had reached the spot, the nobleman leapt ashore, and kneeling down, thanked GoD for his preservation, and renewed his vow of building a church on that very spot before he left Manacca.

"And a beautiful spot, too, is this," he said, as he joined tl e party on their way to the Priory; "Father Prior, I have vowed to build a church by yonder clump of trees, close by the spot on which I landed, as a thank-offering for my preservation; and if you will draw a design, we will lay the foundations as soon as I have procured suitable stone." Indeed," repli the Prior, "I am right glad to hear it; a good church is much wanted hereabouts; I am sorry that I cannot draw a plan fɔr you, but Father Rodolph here, who designed our new Refectory which you shall see, is a very good Architect, and will, I have no doubt, be very much pleased to render his services." Father Rodolph assented, and after they had had a little more conversation on the matter, they started for the Priory.

THE STORM had committed sad devastation: large tree torn up by the roots, were lying on the ground in every direction; and one little cottage, which was situated near the shore, had been nearly swept away by the violence of the waves. "A fine old building that," remarked the noble man, as they drew near to the Priory. "Not so very old," said the Prior, "it was mostly built by me, about fifteen years ago, and the cloisters and the refectory were erected last year; there is some little change going on in our Architecture up the country, just now, the round-headed arch is fast yielding to the pointed: Father Rodolph has just returned from Kent, whither he had gone on a pilgrimage to Canterbury,

and he has brought with him a picture of some of the new works in that cathedral, and of a church whieh is building near and from those I see, that the pointed arch is in great request." which do you prefer?" asked the stranger. "I have given the matter every consideration, and I am on the whole inclined to think that the pointed arch has just claims to our prefer ence." "On what grounds did you make that conclusion?” enquired the nobleman. "I think the principle of the pointed arch is more in accordance with our religion in the round arch the eye is carried upwards from the abacus of the capital, but it is brought down again this I take to be symbolical of crushed hopes. The pointed arch, on the other hand, carries the eye upward and does not bring it down again, of necessity; indeed, the vertical principle is in every respect preferable to the horizontal, and will eventually, if I am not very much mis taken, triumph."

"What you say seems to be right," said the stranger, "I have had very little experience in such matters, and will gladly leave the designing of my church to Father Rodolph. One thing only I must take upon myself to decide—its dedicationI vowed to build it in honour of S. Anthony." “And a right good patron," said the Prior, we, in particular, owe much to him

THEY NOW entered the Refectory, where they found a good meal provided. The Prior invited Maurice and Richard Dobson, and the other villagers who had been watching through the night; for they were all anxious to hear from the mariners an account of the perils they had undergone....After the meal was over, and the dishes removed, the whole party accompanied to the chapel, where, in addition to the service of thehour,a public thanksgiving was giving, in which all present very heartily joined. Most of the seamen then repaired to the ship, in order to ascertain the extent of the damages which she had received, and the condition of the freight. It was found that the vessel was utterly destroyed, having been dread ully shattered by the violence with which, she was

but the freight which consisted of a large quantity of ashlared stone from Normandy, was but little injured.

THE HOUR of the next service being over, they were again regaled with a sumptuous dinner, after which the whole party sat round the fire, and entertained each other by recounting the dangers of the night.

"And pray," said the nobleman to old Maurice, "what did you think of our position out at sea, when you saw us first?" "Oh! my lord, I never dream't you had much chance; I did say that if you ran up Gilleyne Creek you would be safe, and you did it; but I was afraid you would have struck upon the rocks at the point of Little Dinas: if that had happened you could scarcely have escaped." "It was, indeed, a great mercy!" rejoined the nobleman; "I never remember to have undergone so many hardships, as in this almost fatal passage." it plase yer honor," said Richard Dobson, "we should be very thankful to ye, if ye would give us a little account of your voyage; I should like it much." The Prior also having expressed a similar wish, the stranger said that it would give him much pleasure to oblige his kind hosts in any way. What he said will be recorded in our next Number.

[To be continued.]

MEMOIR OF DR. ROWLAND TAYLOR.

[Continued from page 116.]

ON THE next day after that on which Dr. Taylor had supped with his wife, the Sheriff of London, with his officers, came to the Compter by two o'clock in the morning, and brought forth Dr. Taylor, and without any light led him to the Woolsack, an Inn without Aldgate. Mrs. Taylor suspecting that her husband should that night be carried away, watched all night in St. Botolph's church-porch, beside Aldgate, having with her two children, the one named Elizabeth, thirteen years of age, who, being left without father or mother, Dr. Taylor had

If

brought up from three years old), the other, named Mary, Dr. Taylor's own daughter.

WHEN THE sheriff and his company came against St. Botolph's Church, Elizabeth cried, "O my dear father!mother, mother, here is my father led away." Then cried his wife-"Rowland, Rowland, where art thou?" for it was a very dark morning that one could not see the other. Dr. Taylor answered, "Dear wife, I am here ;" and stopped. The sheriff's men would have led him on, but the sheriff said, “Stay a little, masters, I pray you, and let him speak to his wife and so they stopped. Then came she to him, and he took his daughter Mary in his arms: and he, his wife, and Elizabeth, kneeled down and said the Lord's Prayer, at which sight the sheriff wept, and so did others of the company. After they had prayed, he rose up and kissed his wife, and shook her by the hand, and said-" Farewell, my dear wife; be of good comfort, for I am quiet in my conscience. God shall stir up a father for my children.” And then he kissed his daughter Mary, and said, "God bless thee, and make thee his servant;" and kissing Elizabeth, he said-"God bless thee. I pray you all stand strong and steadfast unto Christ and his word and keep you from idolatry." Then said his wife--" God be with thee, dear Rowland; I will, with God's grace, meet thee at Hadley." Then they proceeded to the Woolsack, his wife following. As soon as they came to the inn, he was put into a chamber, where he was kept with four yeomen of the guard, and the sheriff's men. As soon as he was come into the chamber he fell on his knees, and gave himself wholly to prayer. Then the sheriff seeing Dr. Taylor's wife there, would in no case allow her to speak any more with her husband, but gently desired her to go to his house, and take'it as her own, and promised her she should lack nothing, and sent two officers to conduct her thither. But she desired to go to her mother's, where the officers took her, and charged her mothor to keep her there till they came again. At the Woolsack Dr. Taylor was kept by the sheriff and his company till eleven o'clock

at which time the sheriff of Essex was ready to receive him so that they put him on horseback within the inn, the gates being shut.

ON coming out of the gates, there stood at the rails, Dr. Taylor's son, Thomas, with John Hull, his servant. When Dr. Taylor saw them, he called thəm, saying, "Come hither, my son Thomas." And John Hull lifted the child up, and set him on the horse before his father. Then Dr. Taylor put off his hat, and said to the people that stood there looking on, "Good people, this is mine own son, begotten of my body in lawful matrimony, and God be blessed for lawful matrimony.' Then lifted he up his eyes toward heaven, and prayed for his son; laid his hat upon the child's head, and blessed him, and so delivered him to John Hull whom he took by the hand and said, "Farewell, John, Hull, the faithfullest servant that ever man had." When they were come almost to Brentwood, they were met by Arthur Faysie of Hadley, who had once been Dr. Taylor's servant : and he, supposing him to have been at liberty, came to him, and took him by the hand, said—" Master Doctor, I am glad again to see you at liberty." "Soft sir," said the sheriff, "he is a prisoner; what hast thou to do with him ?'6 "I cry you mercy," said Arthur, "I knew not so much, and I thought it no offence to talk to a true man.' The sheriff was very angry with this, and threatened to take Arthur to prison, notwithstanding he bade him get quickly away. When they arrived at Brentwood they caused a close hood to be made for Dr. Taylor, with holes for the eyes to look out at, and a slit for his mouth to breath at; that no man should know him, nor he speak to any man; fearing, if the people should see him, or he speak to any of them, they might be more strengthened by his godly exhortations, to stand stedfast in God's Word, and fly the superstitions and idolatries of the papacy. All the way, Dr. Taylor was joyful and merry, as one going to a banquet or bridal. He spake many notable things to the sheriff and yeomen of the guard that conducted him, and often moved them to tears, through his earnest calling upon them to repent, and to amend their