Thomas, these friends and fellow-captives were lodged in the Bell Tower, and the confinement of the bishop was more rigorous from the first than was that of the exchancellor.

Both these illustrious captives Anne Boleyn is said to have regarded with the deepest resentment. She knew that from the first Fisher had expressed his aversion for the divorce in most unqualified terms of disapprobation, whilst More, who though he so far temporised as to consent to investigate the matter with the bishops appointed by the King, never yielded, and as well he had no doubt wounded her female vanity, by refusing to be present on the day of her coronation.

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CHAPTER XVI.

LADY ALLINGTON'S LETter.

THE following letters, extracted from the works of Sir Thomas, will, we are sure, be read with much interest :—

"In August, in the year of our Lord 1534, the Lady Alice Allington, wife to Sir John Allington, Knight, and daughter to Sir Thomas More's second wife, wrote the following letter to Mistress Roper

"Sister Roper,-With all my heart I recommend me unto you, thanking you for all kindness: the cause of my writing is to show you that two hours after my coming home, my Lord Chancellor did come to take a course at a buck in our park, the which was a great pleasure to my husband. Then, when he had taken his pleasure and killed his deer, he went to Sir Thomas Barnstow's to bed, at whose house I met him the next day at his desire, to which I could not say nay, for he begged me heartily and most especially, because I would speak to him of my father. And when I saw my time, I besought him as humbly as I could, that he would be still good lord unto him. First, he answered, that he would be glad to do for him even as for his own father, and he said he appeared very well when the matter of the nun was laid to his charge, and as to the other matter he marvelled that my father was so obstinate in his own conceit, for that every one went forth, save only the blind bishop and he; 'and in good faith,' said he, 'I am

very glad that I have no learning,' but I know a few of Esop's fables, of which I will tell you one. There was a country in which there were none but fools, saving a few men which were wise, and they by their wisdom knew that theyre should fall a great raine, that should make all them fools that should be wet therewith: they seeing that, made them caves under ground till all the rayne was past. Then they came forth thinking to make the fools do what they list, and to rule them as they woulde. But the fools would none of that, but would have the rule themselves for all their craft. And when the wise men saw that they could not obtain their purpose, they wished that they had been in the rayne and had wetted their garments with the fools. When this tale was told, my lord laughed merrily, and I replied, for all this merry fable, I have no doubt but that he would be good lord to my father, when he saw his time (opportunity).'

"I would not have your father so scrupulous of his conscience, said he, and then he told me another fable of a lion, an ass, and a wolfe, and how they went to confession; first the lion confessed that he had devoured all the beasts he could meet with, his confessor absolved him because he was a king, and it was his nature so to do; then came the poor ass, and said that he took but one straw out of his master's shoe for hunger, by which means he thought 'his master did take cold, this great trespass the confessor could not absolve, but sent him to the bishop; then came the wolfe and made his confession, and he was strictly forbidden to exceed the cost of sixpence at a meal, but when the wolfe had used this much of diet, at a time, he waxed very hungry, insomuch that on a day when he saw a cow

with her calf come by him, he sayd to himselfe, 'I am very hungry, and fain would I eate, but that I am bound by my ghostly father; notwithstanding that, my conscience shall judge me, and then if that be so, then my conscience shall be this, that the cow doth seem to me now but worth a groat, then is the calf but worth twopence.' So did the wolfe eate both the cow and the calfe. Now, my good sister, hath not my lord told me two odd fables. In good faith, they pleased me not at all, nor I wist not what to say, for I was ashamed of this answer, and I see no better suit than to Almighty God, for He is the comforter of all sorrows, and will not fail to send comfort to his servants when they have most need. Thus fare ye well, myne owne good sister.

"Written on Monday after S. Laurence in haste.

"Your Sister, ALICE ALLINGTON.."

The following reply to the above letter makes known to us the communication that passed between the prisoner and his daughter :

"Sister Allington,-When I next visited my father, I thought it proper and requisite to show him your letter, proper, that he may see for himself how lovingly you take his case to heart, requisite as he may thereby perceive that if he still stand in such scruple of conscience (as it is terderly called by many that are his frendes and wyfe), all his frendes that seem most able to benefit him, either will finally forsake him, or perchance not indeed be able to do him any good at all. For these reasons, at my next being with him after receiving your letter, when I had talked with him awhile of his old disease in his chest, and of his pre

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sent internal complaint, and also of the crampe that many nights grips him in the legs, and that I found his bodily pains had not increased but continued as formerly, sometimes very painful, sometimes less, and at this time finding him pretty well, after oure seven psalms and the letany sayde, beginning to talk and be merry first with matters about the comfort of my mother, and the good order of my brother and sisters, that he hoped disposed themselves daily more and more to set little by the world and draw more closely to God, and that his family, his neighbours, and other good frendes, diligently remembered him in their prayers, I said—

"I pray God, dear father, that their prayers and ours may purchase grace of God, His grace that you may in this great matter, for which you are in this trouble, and for which also we all who love you, may take such means, as agreeing with the will of God, may content and please the King, whom you have always found so singularly gracious to you, but if you stiffly refuse to do the thing that would please him, which God not offended, you might do (as many great, wise, and learned say that you may), it would be a great blot in you in every wise man's opinion, and as I have heard some say, whom you have always, held for good and learned, a peril to your soul also. But as for that point, dear father, I will not be so bold as to dispute upon it, for I trust in God, and your own good heart, that you will look surely to it, and your learning is such that I well know you can.

"But there is one thing, father, which I and your friends perceive, which, if it be not shown you, you may peradventure to your soul's peril mistake, and hope for less harm (for as