The story goes that Harry the Eighth wandering one night in the streets of London in disguise, was met at the bridge-foot by some of the watch, and not giving a good account of himself was carried off to the Poultry Compter, and shut up for the night without fire or candle. On his liberation he made a grant of thirty caldrons of coals and a quantity of bread for the solace of night prisoners in the Compter. Experience brings sympathy. Those who have felt sharp afflictions, terrible convictions, racking. doubts and violent temptations, will be zealous in consoling those in a similar condition. It were well if the great Head of the church would put unsympathising pastors into the Compter of trouble for a season until they could weep with those that weep.