had died on the previous day, at his house in London, to
which he had been confined by order of the King.

"An ill man and an unkindly," wrote Isoult in the diary she always kept,
"specially unto them which loved the Gospel. But how those tidings
taketh me back to the days that be over and gone! For the last time
that ever I saw this man was that black third of March, the year of our
Lord 1542, when the King that then was, sent him to bear his diamond and
message unto my dear master [Lord Lisle] in the Tower. Can I ever
forget that even?

"Of this Thomas Wriothesley I dare say nothing. I would think rather of
him whose voice I did hear last after his, in the commending of his
blessed and gentle spirit into the hands of God. How many times
sithence that day have I thanked God for him! Ay, Lord, we thank Thee
for Thy saints, and for Thy care and guidance of them. For the longer I
do live, the surer am I that Thy way Home is not only the right way, but
for each of Thine, the only way. I take it, we shall not think of the
thorns that tare us, nor shall we be ready for tears over the sharp
stones that wounded us, in that day when I and my dear-loved Lord may
sing to Thee together--`Thou hast redeemed us, O Lord God of truth!'"

Mrs Underhill walked into the Lamb, one warm afternoon in the beginning
of August, and remained to four-hours. And of course the conversation
turned before long upon the Protestant controversy with Rome. In the
Hot Gospeller's family, it rarely kept off that subject for many minutes
together.

"Mother!" said Kate, when she was gone, "what meaneth Mistress Underhill
by confession? She said it was bad. But it is not bad, is it, for me
to tell you and Father when I have done wrong?"

"No, sweeting, neither to tell God," answered Isoult. "Mrs Underhill
meant not that, but spake only of confession unto a priest."

"Thou must know, Kate," explained Robin, "that some men will tell their
sins unto any priest, in the stead of seeking forgiveness of God in
their own chamber."

"But what toucheth it the priest?" asked the child.

"Why, never a whit," he answered.

"If the man have stole from the priest," resumed she, "it were right he
should tell him; like as I tell Father and Mother if I have done any
wrong, because it is wrong to them. But if I had disobeyed Mother, what
good were it that I should ask Mr Rose to forgive me? I should not have
wronged him."

"She hath a brave wit, met