pleased with his minister for the credit given him in the affair. But he took care not to enter the parliament house.

On the afternoon of Monday, the fourth of November, the Lord Chamberlain, accompanied by the Lords Salisbury and Mounteagle, visited the cellars and vaults beneath the parliament house. For some time they discovered nothing to excite suspicion. At length, probably at the suggestion of Lord Mounteagle, who, as will be recollected, was acquainted with the situation of the magazine, they proceeded to the cellar, where they found the store of powder; but not meeting with any of the conspirators, as they expected, they disturbed nothing, and went away, reporting the result of their search to the king.

By the recommendation of the Earl of Salisbury, James advised that a guard should be placed near the cellar during the whole of the night, consisting of Topcliffe and a certain number of attendants, and headed by Sir Thomas Knevet, a magistrate of Westminster, upon whose courage and discretion full reliance could be placed. Lord Mounteagle also requested permission to keep guard with them to witness the result of the affair. To this the king assented, and as soon as it grew dark, the party secretly took up their position at a point commanding the entrance of the magazine. Fawkes, who chanced to be absent at the time the search was made, returned a few minutes afterwards, and remained within the cellar, seated upon a barrel of gunpowder, the head of which he had staved with a lantern in one hand, and petronel in the other, till past midnight.

The fifth of November was now at hand, and the clock of the adjoining abbey had scarcely ceased tolling the hour that proclaimed its arrival, when Fawkes, somewhat wearied with his solitary watching, determined to repair, for a short space, to the adjoining house. He accordingly quitted the cellar, leaving his lantern lighted within it in one corner.

Opening the door, he gazed cautiously around, but perceiving nothing, after waiting a few seconds, he proceeded to lock the door. While thus employed, he thought he heard a noise behind him, and turning suddenly, he beheld through the gloom several persons rushing towards him, evidently with hostile intent. His first impulse was to draw a petronel and grasp his sword; but before he could effect his purpose, his arms were pinioned by a powerful grasp from behind, while the light of a lantern thrown full in his face revealed the barrel of a petronel levelled at his head, and an authoritative voice commanded him in the king's name to surrender.

CHURCH-GOERS AND CHARITABLE INDIVIDUALS.

BY E. P. ROWSELL, ESQ.

THERE would be something very ludicrous, if there were not something very lamentable, in the behaviour of ordinary individuals when in church. It would certainly be interesting if, at a given moment, we could ascertain precisely whither tended the thoughts of each party supposed to be wholly engrossed in devotional exercise. What a startling exposure there would be!-what a tremendous discovery of hypocrisy and fraud! That venerable old lady, with her demure look and saintly aspect, would, most assuredly, be convicted (while feebly mumbling the responses) of anxiously contemplating the subject of a new bonnet-a question probably given rise to by the appearance in one of some friend, which exactly meets her approval. The portly gentleman, sitting frowning in the well-cushioned pew, is thinking of the rascally conduct of Jones yesterday on the Stock Exchange; his daughter by his side is marvelling why the Smiths have not given their customary ball this season; the good-natured-looking tradesman's wife in the free-seats is absorbed in the consideration of the one o'clock dinner, to which the whole of her relations have been invited that day; while her two boys near her are furtively engaged at "odd and even" with marbles, desisting, however, at the approach of the beadle.

It is amusing to see Mrs. Brown lean across to Mrs. Robinson directly she has entered the church and taken her seat, and draw her attention to the fact that Mr. Black is absent; and then to notice the animated conversation that will ensue between the two ladies, as to the probable causes of such absence. They talk and even laugh with much energy until the clergyman makes his appearance in the reading-desk, and then there is such a change! Their countenances visibly lengthen; they look immediately as though they had just received tidings of some dreadful calamity, under which they would eventually sink, and their behaviour is the very essence of decorum.

Some people, however, are not so particular. That merry-looking gentleman is apparently fancying himself at a cheerful gathering; in fact, his mind (like the tradesman's wife's) is occupied in anticipating a very social afternoon with sundry relatives who are to dine with him. To do him justice, he tries, but unsuccessfully, to get rid of the subject; there is, consequently, a strange jumbling within him of the carnal and the spiritual. Thus, he begins the response, "Good Lord deliver," then whispers to his wife, "I do hope Mary won't spoil the mock turtle."

It is very distressing when one's mind lights suddenly upon some comical matter while one is in church. If we have been to see Buckstone at the Haymarket the night before, there will sometimes quite unexpectedly rise up the recollection of a rich expression of that gentleman, and we find ourselves straightway, irresistibly (though horrified all the while), absolutely on the broad grin at the very moment, perhaps, when our countenance ought to wear a peculiarly penitential aspect, and the clergyman's eye falling upon us discovers us, when we are supposed to be deeply bewailing our manifold transgressions, apparently on the eve of breaking forth into a loud guffaw.

This is also very distressing-to be dreadfully sleepy in a warm church in an evening. The inclination to slumber is occasionally overpowering; every endeavour to rouse and think religiously is only a miserable failure; the clergyman's voice falls faintly and more faintly on the ear, the lamps

appear to grow dim and dimmer, and for the moment we are asleep-only, however, for the moment-for directly afterwards we are awakened, and, starting up aghast, we strive to appear earnestly attentive, and look fiercely round, as though anxious to inquire whether anybody had dared to fancy us at all somnolent.

What a bustle there always is when service is concluded. It is a grievous fact, that most people look exceedingly relieved when they have risen from their knees and are arranging their attire prior to leaving the pew. Friends whisper freely to one another upon different matters. Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Robinson discard their woe-begone aspect and smile cheerfully; the old lady speaks her mind now fully to the friend beside her about the bonnet before alluded to, and the tradesman's wife bustles off, glancing at the clock, and wishing there were an act of parliament against long sermons.

There are certain circumstances always to be noticed in connexion with charity sermons. Divers seats are invariably empty. Mrs. Brown has always a cold upon such occasions, and is confined to the house. There is a dissatisfied air about sundry people, who remark, after church, that they object on principle to charity sermons generally; while others observe, that the particular charity for which this sermon has been preached does not meet their approval; and therefore, careless of the odium they had incurred thereby, they had not contributed to the plate.

A bishop is a great attraction; and it is a very hard case indeed if a good congregation be not obtained when the announcement has been carefully spread that a bishop is to preach a charity sermon. Certain old ladies have a great notion of a bishop, and survey him with much reverence. They believe that no man can read or preach like a bishop, and you cannot persuade them otherwise. Generally speaking, a bishop is much more successful in obtaining a liberal collection than any lower dignitary of the church.

It must be confessed that it is rather difficult to obey all the injunctions one receives. I hear a sermon to-day in behalf of a dispensary, and I am told that this charity is peculiarly deserving of my assistance, and sad consequences are hinted at if that assistance be withheld. In a few Sundays I shall listen to an appeal in behalf of the schools, and am exhorted to a liberal contribution towards their support; again, a few Sundays on, and a reverend missionary comes down upon me with awful force touching the state of his flock out in India somewhere. By-and-by I am reminded there is a great lack of spiritual food nearer home, and it is incumbent on me to help to furnish more. When to these appeals are added exhortations in behalf of hospitals, visiting societies, church building societies, pastoral aid societies, &c., and I am admonished that to each and all I must lend a helping hand, and that there is no telling what will ensue if I don't, I say it is highly puzzling to a poor man, and I am well nigh in despair.

It is a pleasant thing if you go to a strange church and share a hymnbook (oh, what a nuisance it is, that at almost every church and chapel a different hymn-book is required!) with some obliging personage, to find that that individual sings in a manner which draws upon you both the indignant observation of all around. And how delightful it is to stand twenty minutes waiting for a seat (although you see plenty unoccupied), the pew-opener hoping that when quite tired you will present her with a pair of spectacles, enabling her to perceive that you require to be inducted into a pew.

We do not wish to be disrespectful to the clergy, but we must say, that