Allen's good-will and kind offices towards him, was unceasing in telling his sister, that with such an hypocritical Methodist as Allen, she never could be happy, and that it was downright madness and folly for her to think any thing of him, when she might be so well matched with their neighbour's son, Andrew Thomson, who had expressed such regard for her. It was on this account that most of the interviews between Allen and Mary were held in the absence of Robert. It had been Allen's good fortune to have been brought up by a pious mother, who spared no pains to instil into his mind, to the best of her humble abilities, the precepts and promises of the gospel; and she succeeded, for her son felt their preciousness, and made them the constant rule of his life. He had several times ventured to express his sentiments before John and Robert Gray; but having met with repeated scorn and ridicule, he forebore.

With Mary, however, he was more successful. With earnestness, and at last with interest, she heard him repeat the counsels of his deceased mother, which he had treasured in his memory. Mary had never heard the like before: from her father's lips she had not even heard of God, (except in a profane manner,) and the wonderful truths which William made known to her, had sunk deep into her heart. She had heard him speak of the excellency and value of the Bible, which he called the book of God, but she had never been taught to read. She heard him often describe the great comfort of prayer, but to her it was an unknown language. From time to time, however, during her conversations with William, light had broken in upon her mind, and she felt every day an increasing desire to be more fully sensible of those things which constituted the chief happiness of one so dear to her. It was under this impression that she had been first led to lift up her heart in silence to Heaven, that clearer views might be given her; and ever from that day she experienced a livelier interest in, and a better understanding of, religious truths. No wonder then, if she sought every opportunity of conversing with her friend, who saw with unspeakable joy the impression his humble words had made upon her mind. By such meetings as these, their hearts were drawn closer to each other, and closer to heaven!. But what is lasting here below? Their happy intercourse was now for a long time to be broken off. Allen was about to make a long voyage, a voyage of several months: it was to this he had alluded in his last conversation, and it had left a painful weight upon her mind, for she

feared, when her sole adviser was gone, that that the new impressions which had been recently stamped upon her heart, might vanish, for she doubted her own power to keep them alive.

She had scarcely made the necessary preparations, when her father and brother returned. "Well, Mary," said the old man, after he had arranged his out-door concerns, and was sat down to the supper she had spread before him, "the sight of this food is no unpleasant thing to one who has been toiling all day on the wide sea, with only a dry crust in his wallet; it would eat sweeter, though, if I could satisfy myself that I had earned it."

"Have you not then been successful today, father?"

"Moderate, very moderate. I can't tell how it is, daughter, but it seems to go against us now-a-days: no one works harder than your brother and myself, and yet, put all the last week together, we might as well have slept the time, for the matter of what we have caught."

""Tis poor work, indeed," replied Robert, "there's old Michael Thorn and his boy have sunk their boat to the water's edge with the weight of their day's labour : 'tis mortifying to see one's neighbours so lucky, when we have been so much the contrary."

"And why should our neighbour's success' mortify us, brother?" returned Mary: "surely it is not well to be envious of another's good fortune; we ought rather to rejoice."

"Hold thy tongue, and cease talking like a foolish girl," said old Gray; "rejoice, indeed, and for what? because another has gained what would have made thy father's pocket fuller, and his heart lighter: I dare say thou art more glad for Michael Thorn's luck, than if we had filled our nets ever so full.”

"She is preaching Allen's doctrine,” said Robert.

"Allen is a fool, like herself," replied he sullenly; "and did I not know that he is going away from us, I should be inclined to tell him so to his face. But let him go his way."

"I don't know who'd grieve if he never came back again," said Robert; "not I, for one perhaps Polly would let fall a few salt tears, when she could no longer hear his Methodist sermons."

"You are unjust and unkind, Robert," Mary answered warmly: "William has been your friend ere now, and would willingly do any thing now to serve us; do as you would be done by."

"That's another of Allen's maxims," said her brother.

"What argues wrangling thus," said the old man, "Allen is going away, and let it end. I've nothing to say against him more than any one else, but I hate all Methodists."

Here ended the conversation, and after a short time they retired to rest. The next morning they were up with the sun, and prepared for the same occupations as on the preceding day. Long and heavy were the hours to Mary, till the time came that she was to meet Allen for the last time for many, many months. The appearance of the moon above the deep told her of its approach, and ere many minutes passed they were standing together on the accustomed meeting-spot.

Mary was not backward in expressing her fears, that in his absence her love of religion would flag, especially under the taunts of her brother. Allen gave her all the comfort and encouragement he could produce: he told her never to cease asking God for support, and he promised always to pray for her. He felt, indeed, unspeakable regret, at being forced to quit her when she needed most his continued advice, and it was not without apprehension and fear that he left her unguarded in her spiritual infancy; but still, how young soever she might be in her life unto holiness, he knew her heart was sincere, and that consideration made him thankful. They stood and conversed till the plashings of her father's oars were heard upon the water; with tears they parted, and commended each other to the care of Heaven.

Her father returned home in better temper than on the preceding evening, having made a better day's work. It was no small difficulty for Mary to screen from his observation, and from that of her artful brother, the distress of mind which she felt, and of which her countenance at times manifested visible signs; she however succeeded, and as soon as possible found relief in the solitude of her little chamber, which she consecrated with fervent prayers for her lover's safety, and her own growth in grace.

Deprived of Allen's society and advice, it was now Mary's chief pleasure, instead, as had at one time been her custom, of spending the greater part of the day in idle conversation with her neighbours, to retire to those places which she had so often frequented with him now far away, and meditate upon the precepts he had imprinted on her memory. How sweet the occupation, when we are separated from those to whom the ties of earthly love, and the still stronger

bands of Christian fellowship has joined us, to trace in solitude those paths which have been hallowed by the pious breathings and affectionate words of the absent ones! The mountain, the wood, the plain, the lofty rock, or the wide sea-all that nature has grand and beautiful-when by their influence holy reflections are excited in the mind, become still more beautiful! Happy are those to whom, as to this humble child of earth, the haunts of solitude, shunned by the noisy and heartless votaries of the world, breathe that unspeakable peace, which the world cannot give, which it cannot take away!

Although she could not read, there were many beautiful passages from the book of life, which Mary had learned from Allen, and treasured in her memory; and these afforded her comfort, for they made her sensible that she always had the wings of a merciful Saviour spread above her to keep her from harm; and she knew that in the deepest retirement, he was with her to answer her prayers; and this thought made her tranquil in every season and circumstance. She was, indeed, troubled at the state in which she beheld her father and brother; but what could she do? If she ventured upon religious conversation, it was only to hear it ridiculed, and Allen abused; and she thought it best to hold her peace, and pray for them in silence: but the time was at hand when her pious feelings would be called into active exertion.

About three months after the departure of Allen, John Gray and his son left home, as usual, in their fishing-boat; when out at sea, Robert perceived what seemed to him to be a cask floating on the water; thinking it might have been ejected from some vessel, and that it contained spirits, he stretched his oars, and neared it, but reaching over the side to secure his treasure, he lost his balance, and fell over; the old man threw in a rope, and made many attempts to save his son, but it was in vain; he was carried out, and disappeared for ever before the eyes of his half-frantic parent.

From that time, the gloomy sullenness which had always been marked in the old man, assumed a stronger character: he seldom spoke to any one, and even his daughter could scarcely induce him to utter more than a few words. But she saw, with much inward satisfaction and gratitude to God, that he manifested a willingness to hear her talk on religious subjects. She was unceasing in her attempts to enlighten his mind with the consolations of the gospel, and all her little store of knowledge was over and again produced. Nor did her prayers and

endeavours prove abortive. The seed was not sown on a barren soil; and the cares and business of this world, which he had carried in his bosom even to his old age, now gave way under the humble teaching of his daughter. His willingness to hear, in time gave place to deep interest, and the awful truth flashed like lightning across his mind, "Am I then such a sinner?" He felt it, and for a long time mourned despairingly under the sense of his unworthiness; but that voice which speaks peace to every troubled soul, with soothing accents whis. pered it to his; and the sweet assurance of pardon sealed and sins forgiven, made his once care-worn breast a heaven upon earth! With what unutterable joy did his beloved daughter view this wonderful change; how did her gentle soul rejoice, that she had been the instrument of gaining for her Redeemer, the love which had been so abundantly shed on her from her childhood; and what would Allen say when he returned; for her father now often mentioned him in terms of gratitude and kindness-how would they all meet together and hear the word of God read! But in all her thankfulness and joy, a shade of sorrow came across her, when she remembered the sad end of her brother, who was summoned to his account in an unguarded moment, and thus pleasure and sorrow reigned alternately, or rather jointly, in her bosom.

It went thus with them for some time: old Gray every day growing more impressed with the importance of a religious life, and blessing God for having given him such a child, when Mary, who was in the habit of being much, during her father's absence, with the daughter of a neighbour. ing widow, who was brought near the end of her days by consumption, shewed symptoms of the same fatal disorder; it was supposed that from close and constant communication with the diseased person, she had inhaled her breath, and the infection had settled upon her. For a long time, although weak and feeble, she concealed her illness from her father, well knowing what would be his feelings, if there should appear any prospect of losing all which now bound him to earth, (for the value he set upon Mary may be easily imagined,) and when, on his return home, he would anxiously hear her continued cough, and say, "How long that cold hangs upon thee, dearest!" her answer uniformly was, "Oh, it is better to-day, father, thank God!" But she at length became so much worse, that concealment was impossible: Gray, almost frantic, soon procured a medical adviser from the neighbouring town, who,

as plainly as delicacy and sympathy permitted him, expressed his fears that Mary's disorder was one his skill could not remove. And now, in their brightest splendour, shone forth the comforts of religion; their beams were benignly shed over the whole frame of the sufferer, and with no less power did they dwell within the breast of the old patriarch. His occupation was now entirely neglected, and the small sum he had saved during his younger days, (for never a more frugal man ever cast net into the Solway, than John Gray, as all who knew him could testify,) was applied to the maintenance of himself and daughter, who gradually became worse as days and weeks passed on; and when death put an end to the protracted sufferings of Sarah Hall, the poor girl to whom Mary in her health and activity had ministered, it was with difficulty she could rise from her easy chair, to view the funeral as it passed the door on its way to its long home.

At last she was wholly confined to her bed, and every day deprived her of some portion of her strength; it was a melancholy picture, yet sadly pleasing to see the old man sitting by the side of the low pallet, with the Bible in his hand, his silver locks streaming over his shoulders, and his expressive countenance lighted up with a heavenly ray, and his eyes fixed upon the living page, full of calm and placid resignation, and even in his trial, such a demeanour was to be expected; for who, in the greatest tribulation, who can look with faith upon that blessed book, and not be glad?

Those who are acquainted with the symptoms and character of the fatal disease with which this humble one was visited, are well aware that there exists often in its vic. tim an expectation of ultimate recovery; and here Mary thought that, even if she should not recover, she should yet live to see Allen return; a persuasion which she fondly cherished, and a thought which, next to heaven and heavenly things, warmed her bosom most.

In this precarious state she lingered through the winter, the feeble strings of existence growing gradually weaker, while she was rejoicing in the prospect of soon being with her Saviour, and also of seeing her lover ere she departed. At length, spring again began to open her blossoms, and hang her green tresses on the trees,

Alas! we think it sad To part with life when all the earth looks glad, In her young lovely things, when voices break Into sweet sounds, and leaves and blossoms wake! Is it not brighter then, in that far clime Where graves are not, nor blights of changeful time? So thought the dying one!

Oh, yes! she thought so, and that thought sufficed to wean her affections from earth to those realms of glory, where spring-time is everlasting!

But the hand of death was at length visible upon the pale brow, and the poor frail body was nearly exhausted; but the mind was still unbent, the soul was firm and stedfast in its hope and hold, and the cherished thought was not foregone. It was one morning, when the sun had just risen, and his earliest rays were beginning to illuminate the deep, Mary called her father to her: the old man quickly obeyed the summons. "Father," she said, in a solemn tone of voice: "I want to sit in my easy chair." She had not been up for a long time, and her request startled him; but she repeated it, and, by his assistance, and that of the nurse who attended her, she was seated as she desired. "It is almost over now," she continued, "he will be here tonight; I dreamt he was returned, and my dream will be sooth." It was certainly near the period which Allen had mentioned to her for his return. During the day, she shewed a feverish anxiety, and spoke seldom, but solemnly; she prayed much also in silence. Towards evening, the sky, which through the day had been unclouded, suddenly became black and lowry, and distant thunder foretold the approach of a storm. It came rapidly; the rain poured down in torrents; the sea roared and swelled; the thunders rolled along the firmament, and the lightnings flashed dreadfully from one side heaven to the other, while the loud screams of the sea-gulls were audible amid the bellowing of the storm. Old Gray recollected that his boat, which he had lent to Michael Thorn, was yet lying on the beach, and, unless secured, might be washed away by the tide. He accordingly wrapped his old fisher's coat about him, and went to the water's edge. Around him, on the beach, he was surprised to see various planks and timbers lying, which, in his experienced eyes, were but too true signs that some vessel had gone to pieces: while he was examining them more closely, a huge billow heaved itself on high, and thundered its force upon the shore; its receding waters left a dark mass behind, which Gray ap proached, and discovered to be the body of a man; he turned it to examine the features, and he saw the well-known face of William Allen! "He is, indeed, come," murmured the old man, "she was right, but not in life!" He more closely examined the body: one hand was by his side, the other thrust into the side pocket of his coat,-Gray drew it out, and with it came a small Bible, which

was so firmly grasped, as with difficulty to be dislodged! The old man wept, and, as soon as sufficiently composed, removed the body to a safe distance from the waves, and quickly returned to the cottage. He passed in silence through the little kitchen where the nurse was busied in preparing some refreshment for the invalid, and entered his daughter's room: she was sitting in her chair, and it seemed that she slept-so beautiful she looked-but on touching her pale brow, it was icy cold! She had passed from earth, and was entered with her longexpected friend into the realm of glory.

In one grave were deposited their bodies, and in a short time the old man laid his tabernacle of mortality beside them. But though lost on earth, they form a trio in that land, where the praises of redeeming love fill every heart, and flow from every tongue.

March 1, 1833.

DESTRUCTION OF THE SPANISH ARMADA.

THE destruction of the Spanish Armada, termed by its proud originators, the Invincible, is to an Englishman one of the most heart-stirring and glorious incidents connected with the history of his country; while, at the same time, to the protestant christian it is one of the most gratifying relative to the cause of the Reformation, and the consequent spread of the true light of the gospel.

We cannot reflect on the vast congregation of war-ships, and the tremendous power with which they were freighted, and compare it with the small force with which we were able to oppose it, without acknow. ledging the hand of an over-ruling Providence in its annihilation.

We have been induced to select the following account from the life of Raleigh, as being full and concise, and though to some of our readers all the circumstances may not be entirely new, yet they possess sufficient interest and importance to render them acceptable to every lover of history and of truth.

"The mind of the whole nation was engrossed with one great subject,—the expected invasion of England by the fleet so proudly described as the Invincible Armada, and Raleigh, along with a committee of the ablest councillors and commanders, was engaged in devising measures of defence. The crisis was indeed one of the deepest importance. The preparations of Spain were conducted on a greater scale than had ever before been witnessed; and, whether we look to these mighty efforts, or

to the consequences involved in their success or discomfiture, it is, perhaps, not too much to affirm, that, in a reign crowded with events, this threatened annihilation of England, the Protestant bulwark of Europe, by the concentrated energies of a despotic and Catholic power, was the greatest of them all. The resources of Philip made him a most formidable enemy. His navy was vast and unrivalled, if we consider the size of his vessels and their ordnance; the possession of Flanders gave him harbours opposite to those of England; his influence with the Catholic party in France was great; his exchequer rich in the gold of the New World; and his army composed of the best-disciplined troops and the most experienced officers in Europe. His preparations had now continued for three years, and the result was, the assembling of a fleet greater than had ever sailed from Spain. According to a letter of Sir John Hawkins, written at the time to Sir Francis Walsingham, the main strength of the Armada consisted in a squadron of fifty-four "forcible and invincible" ships, embracing nine galleons of Portugal, twenty great Venetians and argosies of the seas, twenty great Biscainers, four galleasses, and one ship of the Duke of Florence, of 800 tons. Besides these, there were thirty smaller ships, and thirty hulks, making in all 114 vessels; but another account, derived from the Spanish historians, gives a higher estimate, affirming that the whole naval force extended to 134 ships and twenty caravels.

It was divided into seven squadrons. The first, consisting of twelve Portuguese galleons, under the command of the generalissimo, the Duke de Medina Sidonia; the second, of fourteen ships, being the fleet of Biscay, under the vice-admiral Juan Martinez de Recaldo; the third, that of Castile, of sixteen ships, commanded by Don Diego de Valdez; the fourth, the Andalusian squadron, of eleven ships, by Pedro de Valdez; the fifth, the squadron of Guypuscoa, of fourteen ships, by Don Michel de Oquendo; the sixth, the eastern fleet, of ten ships, called Levantiscas, led by Don Martin de Bertendona; and the seventh, of twenty-three urcas, or hulks, under the command of Juan Gomez de Medina. Besides these, there were twentyfour vessels, called pataches or zabras, under Antonio de Mendoza, four galleasses of Naples, led by Hugo de Moncada, and four Portuguese galleys, by Don Juan Gomez de Me. dina. The united crews amounted to 8766 mariners; and on board were 21,855 soldiers, besides 2088 galley-slaves. The ordnance was less than might have been expected, 2D. SERIES, NO. 28.-VOL. III.

the whole fleet mounting only 3165 guns; but, exclusive of this, the Armada contained a large quantity of stores for the army, consisting of cannon, double cannon, culverines, and field-pieces; 7000 muskets, 10,000 halberds, 56,000 quintals of gunpowder, and 12,000 quintals of match. Confident of success, the Spaniards loaded the ships with horses, mules, carts, wheels, waggons, spades, mattocks, baskets, and every thing necessary for taking possession of the country; and the fleet and army were provisioned on an unexampled scale of profusion. Amongst other articles were 147,000 pipes of wine. The generalissimo, the officers under him, and the volunteers, who belonged to the noblest families in Spain, were attended by their suites, physicians, and domestics. Every want had been provided for, every wish anticipated, with a splendour befitting more the progress of an Asiatic potentate than the passage of an army against a formidable antagonist. Superstition, too, had sent her sanguinary votaries, with the apparatus of her triumphs. One hundred and eighty monks and jesuits embarked on board the Armada; and chains, wheels, racks, whips, and other instruments of torture, to be employed in the conversion or extirpation of the heretics, formed part of the lading. But this was not all the force that Elizabeth saw arrayed against her. In the Netherlands, the Duke of Parma had prepared a flotilla of flat-bottomed boats, and collected an army of 30,000 men, commanded under him by Amadeus of Savoy, John of Medicis, and Vespasian Gonzaga, duke of Sabionetta; whilst the duke of Guise was conducting 12,000 men to the coast of Normandy, in expectation of being received on board the fleet, and landed on the west of England.

Such was the force destined for the destruction of the liberty of England, and the overthrow of the Protestant religion; and it might have been thought the gathering of a storm so tremendous would have shaken the constancy of a female sovereign. But it was far otherwise. The mind of Elizabeth rose with the emergency; and, at all times decided, now assumed an attitude of strength, cheerfulness, and preparation, which was truly noble. She knew the resources of her kingdom; she expressed her confidence that God would never desert the cause of the true faith, or permit its enemies to triumph, and she collected round her those wise ministers and brave commanders who had been bred in her councils, and had gained knowledge and renown in her service. Amongst