hope I shall quickly see a better assembly." He walked round the scaffold several times, and then delivered to the sheriffs a paper, which had been carefully prepared, declaring his innocence of the charge of treason, and his strong attachment to the Protestant faith. After this, he prayed by himself, and then Dr. Tillotson prayed with him. Another private prayer, and the patriot, having calmly unrobed himself, as if about to lie down on his couch to sleep, placed his head upon the block, and with two strokes of the axe was hastened into the eternal world. The faith, hope, patience, and love of his illustrious lady surpassed even his own, and her letters breathe a spirit redolent of heaven rather than earth. After a severe illness, she wrote, in October, 1680: "I hope this has been a sorrow I shall profit by; I shall, if God will strengthen my faith, resolve to return him a constant praise, and make this the season to chase all secret murmurs from grieving my soul for what is past, letting it rejoice in what it should rejoice--His favor to me, in the blessings I have left, which many of my betters want, and yet have lost their chiefest friend also. But, O! the manner of my deprivation is yet astonishing." Five years afterwards she says, "My friendships have made all the joys and troubles of my life, and yet who would live and not love? Those who have tried the insipidness of it would, I believe, never choose it. Mr. Waller says-- 'What know we of the bless'd above. But that they sing, and that they love!' And 'tis enough; for if there is so charming a delight in the love, and suitableness in humors, to creatures, what must it be to the clarified spirits to love in the presence of God!" Algernon Sydney was a man of very powerful mind and of great eloquence, in these respects utterly eclipsing his noble compatriot; but in his last days it is painful to miss that Christian faith, tenderness of heart, and beautiful religious hope, which shone with such serene brightness amidst the sorrows of his friend. Sydney was a staunch republican, and his patriotism was cast in the hard and severe mould of ancient Rome. He was another Brutus. This distinguished man was executed on Tower-hill, December the 7th, 1683, and faced death with the utmost indifference, not seeking any aid from the ministers of religion in his last moments, nor addressing the assembled multitude, but only remarking to those who stood by that he had made his peace with God, and had nothing to say to man.