story was to tell; and it surely deserves its name, for it was God who wrought it. So, at any rate, thought all English people at that time; and so great was their sense of God's help that a medal was struck by order of the government, bearing on one side the impression of a tempest-beaten fleet; and on the other these Latin words,

"AFFLAVIT DEUS, ET DISSIPANTUR ;" which, being interpreted into English, means

"God caused the winds to blow, and they were scattered."

It is wrong to exult over the distresses of a vanquished enemy; and, perhaps, Englishmen, as well as others, have always been too ready to do this. I am not sure that this was not done when the Invincible Armada was defeated; but it was right and pious for those who had been thus delivered, while pitying their foes, to remember who it was who had done such great things for them, whereof they were glad. And we also, their descendants, may well be thankful that the cruel King Philip of Spain was not permitted to carry out his designs of conquering England, and bringing back Popery, and all its mistakes, and superstitions, and persecutions, and martyrs' fires.

But I wish to draw another lesson from this story, and impress it on the young readers' minds. It is a short one, and I shall not try to make it longer by many words. It is simply this-that in times of difficulty and trial, there are two duties belonging to every man, woman, or child. The first and greatest is, to put our full trust in God, and seek His direction and help; the other is, to use our own efforts as well.

There is an old proverb which has much truth in it, when it tells that "God helps those who help themselves." It was God who delivered England from the Invincible Armada; but He was not angry with the brave English people who fitted out their ships and risked their lives in defence of their country, any more that He was with those of them who prayed to Him night and day, that He would thus deliver it, and them.

Another Great Deliverance;

OR,

THE STORY OF THE "GUNPOWDER TREASON AND PLOT."

turned out excellently well for both countries. Before this union took place, England and Scotland were nearly always quarrelling, and were also much given

to fierce fighting,-very often on the slightest pretexts. Afterwards, when one king reigned over the whole island, an end was put to those unnatural and unwise divisions and disputes; and gradually the good sense of the people-both English and Scotch -led them to consider themselves as one nation, bound together in the bonds of a common interest.

There is not much to be said in praise of King James, except that he was well-meaning, and wished to reign so as to obtain the goodwill of his subjects. My story, however, is not so much about King James as concerning a wicked plot that was laid against him and his government, and the Protestant religion of England, in the early part of his reign.

In some of our former stories, you have read of the persecutions inflicted by Roman Catholics or Papists who were then in power, on Lollards, or Protestants, because of their religion. These persecutions, of course, ceased when Protestantism became the established religion of England, and it was no longer reckoned a crime for people to read the Bible. I wish I could stop here, or say that persecution then altogether ceased. But it was not so.

When Queen Elizabeth died, the Papists quite hoped and expected that some changes in their favour would take place; and they were enraged at finding that King James and his government were not more disposed than Elizabeth had been to grant them what they looked upon as their rights. Among these discontented Catholics was a gentleman of ancient family and good property. His name was Robert Catesby: his estate was in Northamptonshire;

but he was often in London, and had been mixed up with a former plot, which had come to nothing, and had only brought upon him suspicion, if not punishment. Writhing under this disappointment, Catesby determined to make one more bold effort on behalf of Popery, and, at the same time, to be revenged on those whom he considered to be not only his persecutors, but the enemies of religion. After pondering on this subject till all sentiments of pity and humanity must have been banished from his heart, it came into his thoughts that it would be possible to blow up with gunpowder both Houses of Parliament when the king was there. This, he believed, would destroy some of the greatest enemies of the Romish Church, and open the way for the restoration of Popery in England.

There can be little doubt that Catesby dwelt on this wicked design till he became partially insane. At any rate, the longer he thought, the more determined he was to put it into execution, let follow what might.

It was necessary, however, that he should have assistance in carrying out his plot; so he looked around him for suitable tools. The first person to whom he mentioned his dark and cruel design was his friend Thomas Winter, a gentleman of Worcestershire, who, as we may suppose, had also suffered in some way or other, on account of his being a Roman Catholic.

"This is too dreadful," said Winter, when he had heard out what his friend had to say.

Strong diseases need strong remedies," we may suppose Catesby to have replied,—adding—“Think of the way in which we and our brethren of the