y to an iron chain, and made to swing
to and fro over a slow fire till he was entirely roasted. His life lasted
almost to the end of these ingenious tortures, but his fortitude lasted
as long as his life.

In the next year, Titelmann caused one Robert Ogier, of Ryssel, in
Flanders, to be arrested, together with his wife and two sons. Their
crime consisted in not going to mass, and in practising private worship
at home. They confessed the offence, for they protested that they could
not endure to see the profanation of their Saviour's name in the
idolatrous sacraments. They were asked what rites they practised in their
own house. One of the sons, a mere boy, answered, "We fall on our knees,
and pray to God that he may enlighten our hearts, and forgive our sins.
We pray for our sovereign, that his reign may be prosperous, and his life
peaceful. We also pray for the magistrates and others in authority, that
God may protect and preserve them all." The boy's simple eloquence drew
tears even from the eyes of some of his judges; for the inquisitor had
placed the case before the civil tribunal. The father and eldest son
were, however, condemned to the flames. "Oh God!" prayed the youth at the
stake, "Eternal Father, accept the sacrifice of our lives, in the name of
thy beloved Son."--"Thou liest, scoundrel!" fiercely interrupted a monk,
who was lighting the fire; "God is not your father; ye are the devil's
children." As the flames rose about them, the boy cried out once more,
"Look, my father, all heaven is opening, and I see ten hundred thousand
angels rejoicing over us. Let us be glad, for we are dying for the
truth."--"Thou liest! thou liest!" again screamed the monk; "all hell
is opening, and you see ten thousand devils thrusting you into eternal
fire." Eight days afterwards, the wife of Ogier and his other son were
burned; so that there was an end of that family.

Such are a few isolated specimens of the manner of proceeding in a single
district of the Netherlands. The inquisitor Titelmann certainly deserved
his terrible reputation. Men called him Saul the persecutor, and it was
well known that he had been originally tainted with the heresy which he
had, for so many years, been furiously chastising. At the epoch which now
engages our attention, he felt stimulated by the avowed policy of the
government to fresh exertions, by which all his previous achievements
should be cast into the shade. In one day he broke into a house i