of persons, the 'weaker brethren,' I deemed it advisable to be in advance of them in my sermon, from which I subjoin a passage. It is from a desire to honour Him who was born on this day that we decorate our churches with rich evergreen devices. It is to show our thankfulness by making the dumb leaves as it were speak their Creator's praise, that we place 'Glory to GOD on High,' over our arches. When the face of creation appears dead, the trees having lost their leaves, and the flowers yet hidden from our view, the bright green box and holly with its red berries enlivens the scene, and smiles amid the gloom, teaching us to look to brightest days in store. Yet further, the prickly leaves may tend to recall to our mind the thorny crown which encircled our SAVIOUR'S brow, and the red berries the blood which streamed from His most holy Body for the redemption of us most miserable sinners. Thus, brethren, have we endeavoured to make the 'works of the LORD bless, praise, and magnify Him.'

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Many thanks for the tracts you sent. I have been reading the Bishop of Exeter's Letter to Dean Lowe, which to every Churchman should be very satisfactory, though some no doubt may be inclined to question his opinion that our Church discourages private confession. With kindest remembrances, &c. "Believe me, your's faithfully,

"Feast of S. John Evangelist, 1852."

"E. J. R. HUGHES.

His active parochial labours did not interfere with his attention to the study; a fact which ought to be more impressed upon the minds of the Clergy, than we fear it generally is. Always teaching, and never reading, can produce but little results. In constant visiting amongst his people, in attention to his night schools, in his great charity, Mr. H. was a bright and a shining light, and an example to his peers. His health failed him, and he departed this life on the 26th March, 1853, aged 27 years. The following letter from the Rev. G. H. M'Gill, will fittingly conclude our notice of this faithful labourer of the Church:

"Dear Sir,

"Stoke Ferry, Oct. 3, 1853.

... Mr. Wales, the medical man, wrote to me on Thursday, the 17th of March, to say that Mr. Hughes was ill with influenza, and that he had been unable to obtain help for him in his duty on the morning of the following Sunday. I immediately got a friend to take my Morning Service on the 20th, and undertook that at Runcton for Mr. Hughes. On my arrival at Church on the Sunday, I was rather surprised to find that he wished to be prayed for by the congregation, and had with his own hand written the notice which is usually put in the accustomed place. On inquiry, I was told by the churchwarden that he was ill in bed, and very weak. I promised to go and visit him at Watlington on the Tuesday,-which promise I kept." On that day, I was with him from about twelve o'clock at noon till six p.m. I found him very weak, and he complained of considerable pain in the head. He desired me to write to his Rector, and say that he was not able to take the duty, but that his friends were willing to help him till Canon Wray's return. He then wished me to read to and pray with him; and for this end desired me to get his own book used for that purpose, the Visitatio Infirmorum.' I read a part of Sutton's 'Disce mori,' with which he appeared much affected. He spoke of the great lack of earnest practical faith which he had met with in his short ministerial career; and expressed the comfort and consolation which he felt in his sickness from his own trust in the merits and mediation of JESUS CHRIST. He resigned himself entirely into his SAVIOUR's hands. After this, I read the Office of the Visitation of the Sick, in which he joined with pious fervency, repeating the Creed and LORD's Prayer himself. I then at his request pronounced the Absolution in the service, with which he was deeply impressed. Shortly afterwards, the medical men, Dr. Whiting, of Lynn, and Mr. Wales, came in, and examined him very particularly. When they had finished, and were in consultation, he said to me, ' My head is the seat of my disorder; they must act upon that, if they would do me any bodily good.'. The physician desired me, as his next friend

then present, to write at once to his relations, and say that they must hasten to see him, as danger was to be apprehended. So I hurried home, and wrote to Mr. Jenkyns, the Rector of Bowness, to hasten to him. On Good Friday, March 25th, I took service for him at Runcton, and went down to Watlington afterwards to see him. Much to my surprise, I found him insensible, and that he had been in the same state from about three o'clock a.m. I stayed some time, promising to go again on the following day. On my return on the Saturday (Easter Eve,) I found that he had died at three o'clock that morning, just twenty-four hours after the insensibility came over him. He never rallied; effusion of the brain took place when the insensibility first appeared; and he gradually sank, till his spirit passed away from earth, with the sure and certain hope of reaping a glorious reward hereafter.

"Mr. Wallis-his friend and neighbour-the Curate of Watlington, and myself, on the same morning examined his papers to discover his nearest relatives, and wrote to apprize them of the sad event. Mr. Jenkyns arrived in the evening, and we delivered up his papers, &c. into his hands. The Rector and Miss Wray arrived on Easter Monday.

"The funeral took place on Friday, and was attended by all the respectable parishioners of Runcton and Holme, among whom were very many of the poor; the church was crowded from one end to the other, and scarcely was there a dry eye in that large congregation. Mr. Wallace read the burial service. "Believe me, yours very truly,

"Rev. Cecil Wray."

"GEORGE H. MCGILL.

THE RESURRECTION.

Nor as in cooler skies he lingers, drinking
Slow twilight shadows with diluted ray,
The Sabbath sun o'er Zion redly sinking
Rolls down th' evaporating tint of day.

Anew the watch is set; along the garden

Rock-paved, the iron-shod quaternion clang;
And the broad paschal moon peeps forth, to harden
The gloom which palm and cypress round them hang.

All hush'd again! Like index on a dial,

One spear point, gathʼring from each star a gleam,
Moves to and fro; while to the owl's espial
One gliding spectre and three statues seem.

Each of the four must walk in turn, till morrow
Blush o'er yon olive hill along the earth:
Slow wears the night out, like a mother's sorrow
For one lost child, when near another's birth,

'Tis well nigh spent-behold the last man pacing;
Chill rise the rest, with watch cloaks dewy-wet;
Their stiff eyes hanker for a pale streak chasing
Night's reign o'er sable-tufted Olivet.

Hath noon's blaze burst along the path of morning?
All white with levin-fire asunder leap

The rocks; with unseal'd eye, their vigil scorning,
Forth steps the Dead whom they were set to keep.
Oh, might that tomb but hide them!—as the angel
Blasts with one lightning look each helpless spear;
But bends the knee to Him, Whose great evangile
Is preached by thunder and by earthquake here!
Pale with the horror of that moment's glory,

Diverse, as shrinking each from other's eye-
Conscious how glares aghast his own fear's story
Reflected there, the panic keepers fly.

That glory fading left day ris'n behind it,

Ris'n unperceived-three women seek the gate;
No fierce flash burst upon their sight to blind it,
But mild-eyed morning poured her purple state.

One will be first to find her hidden treasure!

With anxious eye, that wist not, save to weep,
And watch, and weep again in larger measure,
Full on His living face Whose last long sleep
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She came to pillow, earnest she is gazing!
Full on that grief-seared eye unconscious now,
He looks serene ;-the glory of His raising

Hath left no Godhead tokens on His brow.

"Tell me where they have laid Him ?"—and she drew Him
By that long robe which Angel hands had swathed,
Gathering her eye in His, He spoke ;-she knew Him,
And sprang to clasp the feet her tears had bathed !

"I am not yet ascended to MY FATHER;

Touch thou Me not;"-she bowed her to the sod,
With arms that hung to grasp ;-"go, tell them, rather
That I am risen-that I ascend to GOD."

H. H.

The Children's Corner.

THE STEP-FATHER: OR, "CAN I BE A MARTYR ?”

CHAPTER X.

Ir was past mid-day before the Lord of Beaulieu and his party arrived at Winchester. Her ladyship was not wont to undergo a journey so long and so tedious in sultry weather, and had therefore insisted on tarrying at the different halting-places much longer than her lord and attendants had made allowance for. Hence the High Commissioners for trying State prisoners, in the absence of one of their number, were unable to proceed to business; and waited, in no very good humour, two or three hours. Nevertheless, the neighbourhood of the castle looked gay enough; for hospitable entertainment was abundantly supplied "by Her Majesty's gracious injunctions," for both the Commissioners themselves, and their attendants; so that loud laughter and idle merriment again and again came to the ears of the poor pri