Elizabeth, who was an excellent young woman, asked him to wait a few minutes; and, going away, returned to him, saying: "Here are thirty pounds, which were lately left me as a legacy. You shall take the money to repay our master, and I will keep the note; but only on this condition-that you never swear nor use improper language again, that you give up gaming, that you throw away your Popish books, and henceforward attend the daily lecture at Allhallows and the sermon at St. Paul's every Sunday; read the Scriptures, also, with attention and reverence, and pray fervently that your mind may be enlightened and your heart touched by God's Holy Spirit for His dear Son's sake." The young man was so much touched that he promised compliance; and, within half a year after, became a zealous defender of the Gospel, and the instrument of conversion to his father and many others whom he visited in Lancashire. His father was so much pleased with him that he gave him forty pounds (a large sum in those days), to commence business in London. Holland, on his return to town, made an offer of marriage to the good Elizabeth, and they were united in the first year of the reign of Queen Mary. The dreadful persecution which followed proved the sincerity of his faith. He was condemned to the flames for his religious opinions; and, on being brought to the stake, he embraced it as though it were his dear friend, exclaiming, "Lord, I most humbly thank Thee that Thou hast called me from death unto life! Into Thy hands I commend my spirit!" And so, added one more to the glorious army of martyrs, July 27, 1553. MARY COLLING, THE HOUSEMAID POETESS. "Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound; A GOOD many years ago an amiable and accomplished lady, the wife of a Devonshire clergyman, observed a pretty young woman, dressed with remarkable neatness, sitting Sunday after Sunday immediately under the reading-desk of Tavistock church. There was something so modest, sensible, and interesting about her, that Mrs. Bray (for that was the lady's name) inquired who she was, and found she was a maid-servant in the family of a gentleman of that place, and that she was a clever, good girl, with a turn for poetry, which did not unfit her, however, for the duties of her station. Some time after this, in the spring of the year 1831, Mrs. Bray received a small parcel from this girl, whose name was Mary-Maria Colling, containing a few poems, neatly written out, with a respectful request that she would look them over, and tell her what she thought of them. Mrs. Bray, having read the poems and made some inquiries about Mary, sent for her; but the poor girl was so embarrassed when she came, that she did not appear to much advantage. She called a second time, however, and saw Mrs. Bray alone, which she had not been on the first occasion, and they then had a long, H quiet, and interesting conversation, which made Mrs. Bray acquainted with the following particulars of her life. Mary Colling was born at Tavistock, of poor but honest parents, in 1805. She was sent to school when very young, to be out of the way, and was at first merely taught sewing and knitting; but, seeing others learning to read, she begged to be taught reading too; and, as soon as she could read tolerably, she learned the whole of Watts's hymns by heart, of her own accord, and also all the contents of a little book she bought for sixpence. At ten years old she was entered at the free school to learn needle-work, and some kind ladies who noticed her good conduct undertook to improve her in reading. She also learned writing; but, as her mother was frequently ill and had a large young family, Mary was often obliged to remain at home to nurse her little brothers and sisters, which, of course, interfered with her progress. At thirteen she was taken from school altogether, and placed at a loom to learn weaving. At this time "it grieved her heart," she told Mrs. Bray, "that her father should be unable either to write or read; and so she taught him to do both, that his Bible might speak to him." "At fourteen," she added, "it pleased God to give her a good service." For a Mrs. Hughes, being in want of a young person to help in the family, engaged Mary, who remained with her as long as she lived. "The dear old lady," she said, "was very good to her, and grew as fond of her as if she had been her own child. She died in her arms; and, when upon her death-bed, she charged her son to be a kind friend to poor Mary, and to take care of her;' which he has done," continued Mary, "from that hour to this. There could not be a better master, nor a better man." Her In the family of this benevolent gentleman Mary continued to live up to the time of Mrs. Bray's becoming acquainted with her. Her love of reading did not make her neglect her work in the least; and though there were ill-natured people who tried to set her master against her, he was so far from being influenced by them, that he bought her several nice books and some sermons as a Christmas present. She also bought some valuable books out of her wages, saving all she could from her expenses in the way of dress for that purpose; and this did not hinder her from being very generous to her own family. chief reading, however, was in the Bible, whole chapters of which she knew by heart. A sermon which Mr. Bray had preached about six years previously on the power of God had so much struck her, that it led to her composing a little poem on "Creation," which was her first attempt of the kind. Her good master, observing she did not go out much, or run after pleasure like other girls, kindly gave her a slip of garden ground to amuse herself by cultivating it at her leisure. This she did to such good purpose, that at length all the flower garden was put under her charge. The river Tavy flowed at the foot of it, and here her happiest hours were spent. Sometimes she amused herself by fancying the flowers talking to one another, and what they would say, according to their respective characters, as the queenly rose, the modest violet, the towering lily, the gaudy tulip, &c. Thus a peony growing near a laurel made her fancy it reproaching its neighbour for not being so fine as itself, and this led to her writing a little fable in verse called "The Peony and the Laurel.” She blushed when she named this, and said she was afraid Mrs. Bray would think her mazed. "She is very modest," says Mrs. Bray, "and seems imbued with a deep sense of religious feeling, the surest safeguard against vanity, since such a fault is seldom found in a mind accustomed to serious thoughts on sacred subjects. It is more frequently the vice of those who think too much about themselves and too little about their God. She has the Devonshire accent, but not coarsely; and though a perfect country girl in everything,-in her smile, her cap, her little straw bonnet, her courtesy,-yet there is nothing vulgar about her. The elevated feelings of her character have given to her manners that indescribable mark of mind which shows itself amid the greatest simplicity, and is never to be mistaken. Her features are regularly handsome, especially the forehead, eyebrows, and eyes, the latter peculiarly so when animated in conversation." Mrs. Bray had written a tale founded on fact, called "Ford of Fitz-Ford; a Legend of Devon," which Mary's master, knowing she had a strong desire to read it, kindly lent her. As soon as she had eagerly read a little of it, she thought of a way in which she might enjoy it a great deal more, and enable her sister Anne to enjoy it too. Many of the places mentioned in the book were in the neighbourhood, within the distance of a pleasant walk, and could be seen at once from a certain rock on Whitchurch Down. To this rock, on fine summer evenings, did Mary and her sister Anne go with the book, and there read it at their leisure, in sight of the places it referred to. "They could see the old ruined gateway of Fitz-Ford; Holwell, where Lady Howard set on the blood-hound to track Standwich, is just by; Dartmoor, the resort of 'the wild people,' was before them; Brent Tor, where the boy lighted the beacon, was in the distance; and, in the valley below, the vicarage in which the authoress of the tale lived." I must now give a specimen or two of Mary's verses, which are probably not the best that she wrote; but, unfortunately, her fables are out of print; and I have been totally unable to procure even a second-hand copy of them. The following is |