s, the sentence, and long prayers and
orations in Latin by President Bogerman gladdened the souls of an immense
multitude, which were further enlivened by the decree that both Creed and
Catechism had stood the test of several criticisms and come out unchanged
by a single hair. Nor did the orator of the occasion forget to render
thanks "to the most magnanimous King James of Great Britain, through
whose godly zeal, fiery sympathy, and truly royal labour God had so often
refreshed the weary Synod in the midst of their toil."

The Synod held one hundred and eighty sessions between the 13th November
1618 and 29th May 1619, all the doings of which have been recorded in
chronicles innumerable. There need be no further mention of them here.

Barneveld and the companions of his fate remained in prison.

On the 7th March the trial of the great Advocate began. He had sat in
prison since the 18th of the preceding August. For nearly seven months he
had been deprived of all communication with the outward world save such
atoms of intelligence as could be secretly conveyed to him in the inside
of a quill concealed in a pear and by other devices. The man who had
governed one of the most important commonwealths of the world for nearly
a generation long--during the same period almost controlling the politics
of Europe--had now been kept in ignorance of the most insignificant
everyday events. During the long summer-heat of the dog-days immediately
succeeding his arrest, and the long, foggy, snowy, icy winter of Holland
which ensued, he had been confined in that dreary garret-room to which he
had been brought when he left his temporary imprisonment in the
apartments of Prince Maurice.

There was nothing squalid in the chamber, nothing specially cruel or
repulsive in the arrangements of his captivity. He was not in fetters,
nor fed upon bread and water. He was not put upon the rack, nor even
threatened with it as Ledenberg had been. He was kept in a mean,
commonplace, meagerly furnished, tolerably spacious room, and he was
allowed the services of his faithful domestic servant John Franken. A
sentinel paced day and night up the narrow corridor before his door. As
spring advanced, the notes of the nightingale came through the
prison-window from the neighbouring thicket. One day John Franken,
opening the window that his master might the better enjoy its song,
exchanged greeting with a fellow-servant in the Barneveld mansion who
happened to b