infamously conspicuous in persecuting unto death the saints of the Most
High, under the sanguinary despotism of popish Mary; and the spot where
they suffered, called the Lollard's pit, lies just outside the town,
over Bishop's bridge, having a circular excavation against the side of
Moushold-hill. This, at least to within a year or two ago, was kept
distinct, an opening by the road-side. My father often took us to walk
in that direction, and pointed out the pit, and told us that there Mary
burnt good people alive for refusing to worship wooden images. I was
horror-stricken, and asked many questions, to which he did not always
reply so fully as I wished; and one day, having to go out while I was
inquiring, he said, "I don't think you can read a word of this book, but
you may look at the pictures: it is all about the martyrs." So saying,
he placed on a chair the old folio of Foxe's Acts and Monuments, in
venerable black-letter, and left me to examine it.

Hours passed and still found me bending over, or rather leaning against
that magic book. I could not, it is true, decipher the black-letter, but
I found some explanations in Roman type, and devoured them; while every
wood-cut was examined with aching eyes and a palpitating heart.
Assuredly I took in more of the spirit of John Foxe, even by that
imperfect mode of acquaintance, than many do by reading his book
through; and when my father next found me at what became my darling
study, I looked up at him with burning cheeks and asked, "Papa, may I be
a martyr?"

"What do you mean, child?"

"I mean, papa, may I be burned to death for my religion, as these were?
I want to be a martyr."