solemnly asked pardon for his
errors."

"Faith! there has been too much persecution on both sides: but 'twas you
taught us."

"Nay, 'twas the pagans began it," cried the lad, and began to instance a
number of saints of the Church, from the Protomartyr downwards--"this one's
fire went out under him: that one's oil cooled in the cauldron: at a third
holy head the executioner chopped three times and it would not come off.
Show us martyrs in _your_ Church for whom such miracles have been done."

"Nay," says the trooper gravely, "the miracles of the first three
centuries belong to my Church as well as yours, Master Papist," and then
added, with something of a smile upon his countenance, and a queer look at
Harry--"And yet, my little catechizer, I have sometimes thought about those
miracles, that there was not much good in them, since the victim's head
always finished by coming off at the third or fourth chop, and the
cauldron, if it did not boil one day, boiled the next. Howbeit, in our
times, the Church has lost that questionable advantage of respites. There
never was a shower to put out Ridley's fire, nor an angel to turn the edge
of Campion's axe. The rack tore the limbs of Southwell the Jesuit and
Sympson the Protestant alike. For faith, everywhere multitudes die
willingly enough. I have read in Monsieur Rycaut's _History of the Turks_,
of thousands of Mahomet's followers rushing upon death in battle as upon
certain Paradise; and in the Great Mogul's dominions people fling
themselves by hundreds under the cars of the idols annually, and the
widows burn themselves on their husbands' bodies, as 'tis well known. 'Tis
not the dying for a faith that's so hard, Master Harry--every man of every
nation has done that--'tis the living up to it that is difficult, as I know
to my cost," he added, with a sigh. "And ah!" he added, "my poor lad, I am
not strong enough to convince thee by my life--though to die for my
religion would give me the greatest of joys--but I had a dear friend in
Magdalen College in Oxford; I wish Joe Addison were here to convince thee,
as he quickly could--for I think he's a match for the whole College of
Jesuits; and what's more, in his life too. In that very sermon of Dr.
Cudworth's which your priest was quoting from, and which suffered
martyrdom in the brazier," Dick added, with a smile, "I had a thought of
wearing the black coat (but was ashamed of my life you see, and took to
this sorry red one)--I have