head of Joan with the cap of the Inquisition, bearing her accusations,-" Relapsed Heretic, Apostate, and Idolater," then she was dragged forward, and placed upon the pile. It was at this moment that, looking around her with an inspired countenance, Joan earnestly requested that a crucifix might be given to her. An Englishman hurried forward, and breaking a stick in two pieces, formed one roughly, which she received and pressed fervently to her bosom. So touching was her demeanor, so complete her resignation that many left the Market-place, incapable of watching her constancy to the close: the very officials were melted to tears, while the bailie of Rouen could scarcely falter out the requisite orders. "Dieu soit béni!" exclaimed she, as she placed herself on the pile. The name of the Saviour was the last to quit her lips, and as long as she retained a single breath of life, she appeared to be pouring out her soul in prayer. When the smoke cleared away, the calcined ashes alone remained to France of the martyred heroine who had saved her in her peril; and, as usual, general lamentation was heard from those who, though preserved by her fortitude and constancy, had never evinced practical gratitude to rescue one whose devotion they could plausibly admire, yet were too pusillanimous to copy! Alas for poor humanity! which can adulate the prosperous, yet see the vast forest of great virtues cut down-yea, even aid in its extirpa tion, without an effort to preserve it, though protecting all beneath its shadow! How often does the mistaken motive called policy, which prompts to such ingratitude, deceive itself; and baseness finds no reward, but unavailing remorse becomes the profitless return for treachery! So was it with Joan; France felt herself more disgraced by the abandonment of her heroine, than by a thousand defeats; the gleam of the Maid's consuming pyre was reflected in the universal glow of national shame, and-fitting instrument of such inhumanity -priestcraft put forth all its cunning in aid of cruelty, and professed to punish imposture by the grossest perversion of truth! We gladly drop a vail over this scene, for the heart shrinks less at the sufferings of the innocent victim than at the malignant deceit of her persecutors. Sad indeed is the moral, of how ignorance sears the mind's best feelings; how superstitious fanaticism obscures the judgment, until, unguided by the Word, even the ministers of a religion professing peace, outrage its dictates, while they presume to call themselves its ministers, and profane His likeness whom they yet claim to be their God! MARGARET OF ANJOU. Born 1429-Died 1480. MARGARET, daughter of René of Anjou, and Isabella of Lorraine, was the youngest of her parents' five children, and, according to history, the most favored by nature of them all. Margaret's own mother, a scion of the line of Charlemagne, was also as spirited as she was beautiful; but René himself, so unfortunate in his career, appears to have naturally approximated more closely to the future consort of his daughter, being devoted to the refinements of art, and attached to the peacful enjoyments of domestic life. The members of this family were united to each other by bonds of the strongest affection; and Margaret, we are told, was alike the favorite and admiration of France and themselves. Possessed of a masculine, courageous spirit, of an enterprising temper, endowed-with solidity as well as vivacity of understanding, she had not been able to conceal those great talents, even in the privacy" of her father's narrowed court, "and it was reasonable to expect that when she should mount the throne, they would break out with still superior luster." She was "the most accomplished of her: age, both in body and mind, and seemed to possess |