queen, re-establishing Popery, and expelling the strangers “out of the citye and realme,” of whom four suffered death, and others confinement for life; and the imprisonment in the Castle of certain persons apprehended in Suffolk for “refusing to come to the church in time of sermons and common prayer.” Turning from these saddening scenes, we note the foundation, in 1557, of Caius College, Cambridge, by a Norwich citizen of that name, (but sometimes spelled Keyes, whence, we suppose, the pronunciation of the word,) physician to three sovereigns of the house of Tudor, and a man of learning. He was one of the first of a long line of distinguished men educated at our Grammar School—an institution of ancient date, but which did not become located in the present venerable structure until the reign of Elizabeth. And this mention of “Good Queen Bess” reminds us of her visit to the old city in 1578, spending a week in all sorts of festivities, pageantries, and amusements, to the unutterable delight of her loyal subjects. Nearly a century was destined to elapse ere Norwich was honored with another sight of royalty; and as there is a back-ground to every picture, so all this rejoicing was followed by the dread calamity of the plague—introduced, indeed, it was supposed, by some of the Queen’s attendants—and which slew five thousand victims. The succeeding half century is chiefly characterised by ecclesiastical commotions, of which the fact that within little more than 60 years the diocese had _twelve_ bishops, may be taken as one indication. Of these, the first, John Parkhurst, who died about 1575, was favorably disposed towards the church polity of Calvin, and opposed, as far as he could, a passive resistance to the harsh injunctions of his Primate (Parker, a native of Norwich) against the Puritans; Edmund Freke, his successor, deprived many nonconforming ministers of their livings, and imprisoned Robert Brown, the first separatist from the Establishment, and whose ideas of church government are mainly identical with those of the present Congregationalists; a third—Matthew Wren, father of the famous architect, was censured and imprisoned by the Parliament, on a complaint by the people of Ipswich, that he had, in two years, suspended or deprived fifty ministers, and driven 3000 persons, with their manufactures, to Holland, to the prejudice of the trade of the kingdom; Joseph Hall, the last of the twelve, was a man much esteemed for his mild disposition, and for the purity of his style was termed the English Seneca. Though at one time harshly treated by the Roundhead soldiers, he was ultimately restored by the Commons to the full possession of his revenues, and spent the latter part of his life in a quiet retreat at Heigham, (now the Dolphin Inn,) in the church of which parish he was interred, though a passage in his will runs thus—“I do not hold God’s _house_ a meet repository for the bodies