would be over-the King dead and the conspirators triumphant. And Fawkes, too, resolute as ever, kept watch and ward in the vault, provided with a time-piece, which, set truly, would tell him when to fire the mine. The Wrights and Catesby rode away to join Sir Everard Digby at Dunchurch; Winter remained with Monteagle; Percy dined at Sion House with his august relative; Rookwood had his relays ready-five horses saddled, and equal to any emergency. And so on that Monday afternoon the conspirators separated, to await the springing of the mine on the morrow, in doubt and in fear.

THE MINE IS SPRUNG.

And the mine was ready; not only the gunpowder and the faggots in the vaults, but the mine prepared by Salisbury, and towards which he had been leading the blinded conspirators. His time had come !

Monday afternoon, November 4th, 1605, saw the conspirators dispersed to wait the fatal 5th; and in the course of the day, while it was yet light, Suffolk, the Lord Chamberlain, whose duty it was to see all the arrangements for the meeting of Parliament properly carried out, came, accompanied by Lord Monteagle, to the House. They examined and inspected the chamber, and thence they proceeded," as a matter of form " no doubt, to see that all was right underneath the Parliament House.

The two noblemen came with a light excuse, quite unattended, laughing and talking as they proceeded from cellar to vault, and to inner vaults, till they reached the part immediately beneath the throne. Fawkes was present, and the Chamberlain carelessly inquired who he was, and his business.

"I am Mr. Percy's servant," replied Fawkes, "and am looking after my master's coals;" when Suffolk caused a smile by a remark concerning Christmas fires and timely preparation. Nothing could be pleasanter; there was no suspicion; the merry gentlemen saw nothing, suspected nothing, brought no guard to effect an arrest, and all was well. Fawkes was a judge of faces, and watched his visitors narrowly, but no trace of fear, no shade of suspicion crossed their features. The time was almost come. The dreaded search had been made and was over. All was well!

Fawkes could not restrain his impatience, and in his satisfaction at the result he at once rode to Isleworth to tell Percy what had occurred, and how well their plans had succeeded. This so affected Percy that he came away from Sion House with Fawkes, and accompanied him to London. Fawkes bade him farewell in Westminster, and

descended to the vault. Percy rode to St. Giles' Fields and told Rookwood and Kay that all was well, and the deed would be done upon the morrow.

The hours passed-ten o'clock struck. Surely there would be something stirring at Westminster if there were any suspicion. So excited and restless were the men that they left their hiding-place in the darkness of the night and hurried down to Westminster to see what was going on. Nothing! All was quiet and still as the grave in which they hoped the King would, in a few hours, be lying. Not a sound of preparation broke the stillness. The royal residence was slumbering; all lights were extinguished; no sign of alarm or suspected danger. The three conspirators breathed more freely, though with quivering lips; and as quietly as they had paced the deserted roads, they returned again to their lodgings to sleep, and then to listen for the terrible explosion which they hoped, yet feared, would come next day.

While they were sleeping, tossing restlessly from side to side with muttered thoughts of the expected tragedy escaping in their dreams, Guy Fawkes was acting and wide awake. He had made all his sinister preparations-the watch was wound up, the lanthorn lighted, the train laid. Fully aware of the desperate nature of the attempt, Fawkes, booted and spurred, was ready for flight by land or by water if the boat were at the stairs.

The vault was close and warm even that wintry morning, and about two o'clock Fawkes left the inner chamber and came into the further room. He ascended the stairs to pass into Vinegar House, where were the porter and Robartes the priest. He came slowly forth; all was quiet. He advanced more cautiously, and reached the court, when he was suddenly seized and bound.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Sir Thomas Knyvett, a magistrate of Westminster.

"Had you but taken me inside," was the bold reply, "I would have blown you all up with the house and myself."

Sir Thomas directed the prisoner to be searched at once, and found tinder, slow match, and some touch"-wood on his person; the lanthorn was lighted in the vault, and the top of a barrel of powder was stove in; the train was ready,-but Salisbury had sprung his mine first. The prisoner was taken. and then carried to the King at Whitehall, to be interrogated by His Majesty in Council.

Thus while Catesby and his friends were quietly riding to Ashby, their luckless accomplice was cursing his fate on his straw pallet in the Tower.

RUN TO EARTH.

Fawkes declined to reveal anything more than what concerned himself. In reply to the King, he confessed his object and the means he had taken to attain it. When asked how he had the heart to destroy the Sovereign and his children, the bold man replied that "Dangerous diseases required desperate remedies," and told the Scottish courtiers he wanted to have "blown them all back to Scotland!" Such hardihood appeared incredible to the King, and Fawkes was quickly removed to the Tower.

Early in the morning of the 5th of November, a report ran like wildfire through the city that a man had been arrested in the vault beneath the Parliament House, with a dark lantern. The gunpowder which had been discovered put aside all doubt as to his object, and public indignation was aroused with public curiosity. The rumour reached St. Giles's Fields and its occupants, who were greatly stirred, and the three conspirators hurried away to find that all was known, and that flight was only possible.

Percy and Wright immediately fled; the former, who had made his arrangements, now found the benefit of his foresight, and they journeyed to Fenny Stratford unharmed, while Cecil's messengers were seeking them in other roads. Here they met the others, who were also flying for their lives; Catesby and John Wright having only heard the news from Rookwood, who had come fast with his relays. The friends then proceeded through Dunstable, and thence to Towcester, and to Ashby St. Leger, where Lady Catesby resided.

It was six o'clock in the evening when the dusty and travel-stained troop entered the house where many members of the great "hunting party" which had been convened had already assembled at supper, The newcomers did not take long to acquaint them of the failure of the enterprise, which their condition and presence so fully endorsed. "To horse!" was still the cry, and accompanied by many members of the party, the fugitives rode to Dunchurch to Sir Everard Digby.

But cool air and cooler reflection rapidly thinned the ranks of the adherents. All was lost; there was no hope for those who resisted; and in the darkness many a horseman drew rein and turned aside for home to wait events. Kay had long ago quitted his friends and made for his home, where he was afterwards captured.

Arrived at Dunchurch, the dread news was received in silence, and a deep gloom fell upon those assembled there. The result was that many fell away notwithstanding the determination of Catesby; and on the morrow

a small but desperate band continued their headlong flight to Leamington Priors, where they rested and attempted to recruit their band, but without success. Men looked upon them with suspicion, and resented the manner in which they sought to appropriate arms and steeds. Thus they raised up opposition instead of making friends.

They proceeded across Warwickshire and Worcestershire, and made for the residence of Stephen Littleton at Holbeach, after enlisting a few adherents at Norbrook where Grant resided. As they proceeded they called upon the country people to take up arms and join them, but not one man did so. Whatever idea the people had respecting a change of ruler, the condition of the conspirators was not one to inspire much confdence in any one just then.

Sir Richard Walsh was by this time upon their track; and without attempting further flight the conspirators and their adherents awaited the arrival of the troops at Holbeach, determined to defend it. But Littleton left his house, and during the night many servants stole away also. On the morrow, after much consultation, Sir Everard Digby quitted his friends to procure assistance, and Catesby made preparations for defence.

They had been harassed across the Stour by the royalist troopers, and the arms and ammunition had got wetted. The powder was most valuable to them, and Catesby proceeded to dry it by the fire, in the hall, on a platter. A large bag of gunpowder was also left, at a safe distance as was conjectured, while Catesby pursued his dangerous task.

Percy watched this proceeding, and expressed a wish respecting its effects-that the powder would prove more destructive than the quantity stored beneath the Parliamen: House, and Catesby joked grimly upon the subject as he continued his work. The others had scarcely quitted the hall when a tremendous explosion occurred. A coal had sho from the fire, and the powder had exploded, though the large bag had been blown bodily through the roof uninjured. Four of the men, Catesby, Rookwood, Percy, and Grant, were hideously wounded and burnt, but staunch to the last.

The attack began in the forenoon, and proceeded with spirit. Robert Winter and Bates escaped early in the morning. Tom Winter was quickly disabled by the assailants. The sheriff directed some of his men to fire the house, and the rest to attack on the opposite side; and thus the fight proceeded.

"Stand by me, Tom," cried Catesby, "and we'll die together." As they were standing back to back they were shot through, and fell side by side. Catesby crawled into the vestibule and expired, embracing an image of the Virgin. The Wrights were also shot

dead; Rookwood and Percy were severely wounded. Digby was afterwards captured near Dudley, and the others were betrayed in their hiding-places. The wounded in the house died miserably; and within a week all the plotters, except the priests, were dead or in the Tower of London, where Guy Fawkes had already confessed his crime.

TORTURE AND CONFESSION.

The Government made every effort to get at the truth by question, rack, and pressure; but although much was said, there was a great difficulty in sifting the chaff from the grain. What was said one day was contradicted or explained away the next, and everyone concerned in the plot seemed quite oblivious or incapable of speaking "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." The determination of the Secretary of State had almost given way under the repeated disappointments, but through Tresham a clue was at length obtained to the priestly adherents of the plot.

Tresham, though he was implicated by the tardy confession of Guy Fawkes, was not arrested for some days after the public announcement of the discovery of the plot. But at length Master Frank, a past master in the art of duplicity and Jesuitical cunning, was committed to the Tower, and told all he thought it worth while to tell. Monteagle's name was frequently mentioned, but it was not the intention of the Secretary of State to impeach his colleague.

From Tresham and Winter information was received concerning Garnet, Gerard, and Oldcorne, and more definite action was taken when the servant Bates had been persuaded, with more or less force, to reveal all he knew. His information was very useful, and the priests Garnet and Oldcorne, who were at Hendlip, were sought for. Meantime Tresham was suddenly taken ill after his confession. Romancers tell us that Monteagle visited the unhappy man in the Tower, and with the connivance of the gaoler, poison was administered to "Cousin Frank," who died from the slow effects. Be that as it may, there is no doubt that after his committal and confession he was taken ill and died in the Tower in great agony. Finding the hand of death press closely upon him, his wife and confidential servant were sought and permitted to visit him. In their presence he made and signed a statement contradicting all he had said about the Jesuit priests. Tresham signed this document, and had it attested by Vavasour, his servant. Frank died that same night, leaving the document, which was entirely untrue, and which had been written by the servant, to the care of his wife for the information of the Council.

THE EXECUTIONS; SEARCH FOR THE

JESUITS.

On the 15th of January, 1606, a proclamation was issued against the English Jesuits, and pending their arrest the trial of the surviving lay members of the Gunpowder Plot had been postponed. But on the 27th of January, the Spaniards having declined to deliver up those Jesuits in their dominions who had been implicated, the conspirators were arraigned. Their trial did not last long, nor was any mercy shown them. On the 30th of January, Sir Everard Digby, Robert Winter, Grant, and Thomas Bates, were hanged at Paul's Cross. Guy Fawkes, Kay, Rookwood, and Thomas Winter were hanged, drawn, and quartered in Palace Yard, Westminster. But for the presence of a strong armed force the conspirators would have been dragged from the ignominious hurdles and torn to pieces by the crowd.

Digby was the first to suffer, and kneeling down he desired the prayers of all good Catholics. "Then none will pray for you," remarked an individual in the crowd as the young man was launched into eternity. Robert Winter came next, and he ascended the blood-stained scaffold. The executioner's assistants had already dismembered his late associate, but Winter remained firm and died defiantly. Grant and Bates were soon despatched; but the crowning tragedy was enacted in Old Palace Yard on the 31st of January.

Every available position which commanded a view of the scaffold was occupied. The Abbey roof was crowded with spectators, the pinnacles and buttresses black with clinging figures. Thomas Winter was the first to ascend the scaffold and die firmly. Rookwood and Kay came next. The latter threw himself off with such violence that the rope broke, and he was despatched like a dog. Guy Fawkes, the stern soldier, was the last of all.

As this brave but misguided man ascended the steps of the scaffold his firm foot slipped upon the bloody surface, and had he not been supported he must have fallen. He ascended deliberately and then turning to the multitude, said: "I ask forgiveness of the King and the State for my criminal intention, and trust that my death will wash out my offence." He then ascended the drop, and ere his heart had ceased to beat, his quivering frame was cut down and hacked to pieces by the savage knives of the executioners.

While the conspirators were being led to execution, the search for Garnet and Oldcorne had been busy and unremitting. The other Jesuits had escaped, and the pair might easily have got away in safety. But they

preferred to play the old game of hide-andseek, and at Hendlip Hall they found an asylum. Like many other old mansions, Mr. Abingdon's house was a perfect “rabbit warren" of passages and hiding-places. Secret stairs and panels, holes and corners, abounded. Wide chimneys with duplicate flues, and cunning recesses for priest or plotter were in many rooms, while hollow walls and fissured wainscots were general. To such a house the Jesuits were glad to retreat and hide.

But Sir Henry Bromley had orders to track them out, and to Hendlip came he in due course and suddenly, to search the house. He surrounded it closely and then proceeded to examine the interior. From room to room he sounded the walls, and discovered many a secret passage and hidden panel. Measurements were made inside and out; and so suddenly had Bromley come upon the Hall that no provisions had been stored in the recesses for the priests. But no success at first attended the Knight's efforts. Day after day passed and no real discovery was made, though all evidence tended to confirm suspicion that the men were there.

At last one night, towards the witching hour, two ghostly figures appeared to the guard in the hall of the mansion. These were the priests' servants, Owen and Chambers, who had had no food for two or three days. Gaunt, grimy, and hollow-eyed, they tottered along, and surrendered themselves to Bromley's men, but would confess nothing -not whence they came nor who they were.

Mr. Abingdon and his wife were at once put under arrest by Sir Henry Bromley, and every exertion was made to ascertain the hiding-place of the priests, for no doubt existed in Bromley's mind now. They were sought for, but unsuccessfully, and at last even Sir Henry lost patience and issued orders for retiring.

But soon afterwards, acting on information of a condemned prisoner, Garnet and Oldcorne were found in the recess of a chimney, cramped and starving. They were carefully tended-as fowls are fed for killing -and brought to London and the Tower.

THE JESUITS' END.

On the 13th of February the Jesuit priests were confronted by the Council at Whitehall, and Garnet was received with all the "treacherous courtesy" he had already enjoyed as he was being conducted to London. A good impression was left upon the priest's mind, though he was closely questioned. His cell at the Tower was changed for a better, and, as he subsequently said in a letter to Ann Vaux, whose reputation he had so seriously compromised, "I am allowed every meal a

good draught of excellent claret wine, and I am liberal with myself and neighbours for good respects, to allow also out of my own purse some sack, and this is the greatest charge I shall be at."

But before long this interesting correspondence came to an end. Cecil questioned and received many damaging answers from the Jesuit leader, and before very long Mistress Vaux was herself committed to the Tower as a participator in the Gunpowder Treason.

By this time nearly all the English Jesuits had been arrested and put in the Tower; and the kind Lieutenant was so obliging as to put Garnet and Oldcorne into adjacent rooms, and caused a communication to be shown to the by means of which they could quietly converse when the warders were out of the way.

This was an opportunity not to be neglected. The Jesuits held many interesting conversations through the panel, curiously oblivious of the danger they incurred. The craft of Cecil does not appear to have been suspected by either, but spies were so placed that the dialogue was heard and transmitted to the Secretary of State. These conversations tended to clear up much that had been before obscure. Ann Vaux was closely questioned. but nothing against the Jesuits could be ob tained from her. The queer, if not unusual, relationships lately existent at White Webbs. and the meetings of the plotters there, were disclosed by the dame; and then Cecil sent for the priests, and told them he was well aware of their conversation through the panels.

This was too much for Oldcorne; he confessed his share in the dialogue, and added various other words which proved very injurious to him and his associates. Garnet. on the contrary, firmly denied the facts until threatened with torture, when he confessed. and was ordered for trial in March 1606.

When Garnet had confessed it was of no use to keep Oldcorne any longer in prison. He was therefore sent to Worcester with Mr. Abingdon of Hendlip to be tried before a special Commissioner. Mr. Abingdon was pardoned, and yet Lord Monteagle, with the priest Oldcorne and others, were executed. Gerard had escaped.

A volume might be written concerning Garnet's latter days, his correspondence with Ann Vaux, whose character he defended at the last, and his interviews with Cecil. By degrees, as we have seen, enough was found to criminate him, and by means of spies and such devices, proof was adduced against all the priests. Henry Garnet was then condemned and executed. So the active principle of the terrible plot died out, and there remain but a reproach and a by-word and a doggerel rhyme, to bring prominently before us the great Gunpowder Treason, which should never be forgot."

66

H. F.

FOR ENGLAND,

A NIGHT OF SUSPENSE. HE long, hot summer day was drawing to a close, and the level beams of the setting sun were lighting up with resplendent beauty the dancing waters of Plymouth Sound, when suddenly a small armed vessel, with all sails set, ran smartly in from the Channel, before the wind. A few minutes more, and down rattled her canvas, the anchor was thrown out, and the vessel's head swung round. Another minute passed and her captain sprang ashore, and quickly made his way to the bowling-green on the Hoe, where a group of officers and sea-captains were engaged in the old English game of bowls.

Seeking out one of the officers who from his appearance seemed to be a person of some distinction, and who, in fact, was none other than Lord Howard of Effingham, High Admiral of England, the new-comer exclaimed

excitedly,-" My Lord, the Spaniards are upon us! I saw the Armada this morning off the Cornish coast, and I have cracked on all sail to let your Lordship know in time."

Instantly there arose shouts for the ships' boats, and some of the captains hurried away to the water; signs of excitement and haste began to manifest themselves on every side; but there was one there, holding a large ball in his hand, who coolly checked the excitement of his colleagues, and insisted that the match should be played out. "There is time to beat both you and the Spaniards too," he said. A hearty laugh was the response, and then Drake (for the last speaker was that famous captain) and his friends played out their game as coolly as though the invading Spanish ships were thousands of miles away.

But while they were concluding their game, the news of the Spaniards' arrival had spread far and wide. Fire-signals, ready to burst