risoner be remanded to the prison from whence he came, and
put into a low, dark chamber; and there be laid on his back, naked,
unless where decency forbids: that there be placed upon his body as
great a weight of iron as he could bear and more; that he have no
sustenance, save only on the first day, three morsels of the worst
bread; and, on the second day, three draughts of standing water, that
should be nearest to the prison door; and in this situation this
should be alternately his daily diet _till he died_, or (as anciently
the judgement ran) _till he answered_."

With respect to this horrid judgment, Christian, in his notes to the
same work, goes on to say: that "the prosecutor and the court could
exercise no discretion, or show no favour to a prisoner who stood
obstinately mute." "In the legal history of this country," (England,)
he continues, "are numerous instances of persons who have had
resolution and patience to undergo so terrible a death in order to
benefit their heirs by preventing a forfeiture of their estates, which
would have been a consequence of a conviction by a verdict. There is a
memorable story of an ancestor of an ancient family in the north of
England. In a fit of jealousy he killed his wife; and put to death his
children who were at home, by throwing them from the battlements of
his castle; and proceeding with an intent to destroy his only
remaining child, an infant nursed at a farm-house at some distance, he
was intercepted by a storm of thunder and lightning. This awakened in
his breast compunction of conscience. He desisted from his purpose,
and having surrendered himself to justice, in order to secure his
estates to this child, he had the resolution to die under the dreadful
judgment of the _peine forte et dure_." This tale is the base of our
romance.

THE SEA NYMPH'S SONG.

BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER.

Sound is he sleeping
Far under the wave--
Sea nymphs are keeping
A watch for the brave:
Deep was our grief and wild--
Wilder our dirge
When the doomed ocean child
Drowned in the surge.

Within a bright chamber
His form we have laid;
With spar, pearl and amber
The walls are arrayed--
Though high rolls the billow
He wakes not at morn,
And sponge for his pillow
From rocks we have torn.

I heard thy name spoken
When down came the mast;
His hold was then broken,
That _word_ wa