will out." True it is, that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those who break the great law of Heaven, by shedding men's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery. Especially, in a case exciting so much attention as this, discovery must come, and will come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes turn at once to explore every man, every thing, every circumstance connected with the time and place; a thousand ears catch every whisper; a thousand excited minds intensely dwell on the scene, shedding all their light, and ready to kindle, at the slightest circumstance, into a blaze of discovery.

7. Meantime, the guilty soul can not keep its own secret. It is false to itself, or rather it feels an irresistible impulse to be true to itself. It labors under its guilty possession, and knows not what to do with it. The human heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant. It finds itself preyed on by a torment, which it does not acknowledge to God nor man. A vulture is devouring it, and it can ask no sympathy nor assistance, either from heaven or earth. The secret which the murderer possesses, soon comes to possess him; and like the evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding *disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has become his master. It betrays his discretion, it breaks down his courage, it conquers his prudence. When suspicions from without begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstances to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must be confessed, it will be confessed; there is no refuge from confession but suicide, and suicide is confession.

CLXVII.-FALL OF CARDINAL WOLSEY.
FROM SHAKSPEARE.

Wolsey. FAREWELL! a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow, blossoms,
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him;

The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost,
And, when he thinks, good, easy man, full surely
His greatness is a ripening,
And then he falls, as I do.

nips his root,
I have ventured,

Like little, wanton boys that swim on bladders,
These many summers in a sea of glory,

But far beyond my depth; my high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me,
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There are betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That aspect sweet of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have:
And when he falls, he fails like +Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

Enter CROMWELL amazedly.

Why, how now, Cromwell!

Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.

Wol. What, amazed

At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder,

A great man should decline? Nay, if you weep,
I am fallen indeed.

Crom. How does your grace?

Wol. Why, well;

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.

I know myself now; and I feel within me

A peace above all earthly dignities,

A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me,
I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,

These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken

A load would sink a navy,-too much honor:

O, 't is a burden, Cromwell, 't is a burden,

Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven!

Crom. I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. Wol. I hope I have. I am able now, methinks,

Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,

To endure more miseries, and greater far,
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?

Crom. The heaviest, and the worst,
Is your displeasure with the king.

Here used for disgrace.

Wol. God bless him!

Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place.

Wol. That's somewhat sudden :

But he's a learned man. May he continue

Long in his highness' favor, and do justice

For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones,
When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em!
What more?

Crom. That Cranmer is returned with welcome,
+Installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
Wol. That's news indeed!

Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne,

Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
This day was viewed in public as his queen,
Going to chapel; and the voice is now

Only about her coronation.

Wol. There was the weight that pulled me down. O Cromwel The king has gone beyond me; all my glories

In that one woman I have lost forever:

No sun shall ever tusher forth mine honors,

Or gild again the noble troops that waited

Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor, fallen man, unworthy now

To be thy lord and master. Seek the king;

That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him
What and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will stir him-

I know his noble nature-not to let

Thy hopeful service perish, too. Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
For thine own future safety.

Crom. O my lord,

Must I, then, leave you? Must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.
The king shall have my service, but my prayers
Forever and forever shall be yours.

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me,

Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.

Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,

And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee,
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor,
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by it?

Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee,
+Corruption wins not more than honesty.

Still in thy right-hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not;
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,

Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the king;

And, prithee, lead me in.

There, take an inventory of all I have,

To the last penny; 't is the king's: my robe,
And my integrity to Heaven, is all

I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell!
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my King, He would not, in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.

Crom. Good sir, have patience.

Wol. So I have.

Farewell

The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.

CLXVIII.-OBSERVANCE OF THE SABBATH.
FROM DR. SPRING.

1. THE Sabbath lies at the foundation of all true morality. +Morality flows from principle. Let the principles of moral obligation become relaxed, and the practice of morality will not long survive the overthrow. No man can preserve his own morals, no parent can preserve the morals of his children, without the impressions of religious obligation.

2. If you can induce a community to doubt the genuineness and authenticity of the Scriptures; to question the reality and obligations of religion; to hesitate, undeciding,

whether there be any such thing as virtue or vice; whether there be an eternal state of retribution beyond the grave; or whether there exists any such being as God, you have broken down the barriers of moral virtue, and hoisted the floodgates of immorality and crime. I need not say, that when a people have once done this, they can no longer exist as a tranquil and happy people. Every bond that holds society together would be ruptured; fraud and treachery would take the place of confidence between man and man; the tribunals of justice would be scenes of bribery and injustice; *avarice, *perjury, ambition, and revenge would walk through the land, and render it more like the dwelling of savage beasts, than the tranquil abode of civilized and christianized men.

3. If there is an institution which opposes itself to this progress of human degeneracy, and throws a shield before the interests of moral virtue in our thoughtless and wayward world, it is the Sabbath. In the fearful struggle between virtue and vice, notwithstanding the powerful auxiliaries which wickedness finds in the bosoms of men, and in the seductions and influence of popular example, wherever the Sabbath has been suffered to live, the trembling interests of moral virtue have always been revered and sustained. One of the principal occupations of this day, is to illustrate and enforce the great principles of sound morality. Where this sacred trust is preserved inviolate, you behold a nation *convened one day in seven, for the purpose of acquainting themselves with the best moral principles and precepts; and it can not be otherwise, than that the authority of moral virtue, under such auspices, should be acknowledged and felt.

4. We may not, at once, perceive the effects which this weekly observance produces. Like most moral causes, it operates slowly; but it operates surely, and gradually weakens the power, and breaks the yoke of profligacy and sin. No villain regards the Sabbath. No vicious family regards the Sabbath. No immoral community regards the Sabbath. The holy rest of this ever-memorable day, is a barrier which is always broken down, before men become giants in sin. Blackstoue, in his Commentaries on the Laws of England, remarks, that "a corruption of morals usually follows a profanation of the Sabbath." It is an observation of Lord Chief Justice