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eagerness; but no,-he got up, shook the mud from his jacket, and for some time walked steadily on his journey. Before long, another temptation arose, which was quickly yielded to, and this time with success: the little prize was secured, but the attempt to carry it home in his hand, as well as his can, very speedily destroyed its beauty, and rendered it worthless; the poor flutterer was discarded. The boy now seemed to recollect the object of his journey, and walked quickly on. He turned up a narrow lane, and stopped at the door of a wayside cottage,-a very humble one, and yet the neatness of the little garden, and the cleanliness and arrangement of the interior, betokened the presence of a directing hand above that of an ordinary peasant. The outer room was empty, so I followed the boy to an inner very small apartment, where lay stretched on a low pallet, a little girl of about eight years. Her mother, a delicate-looking young woman, was sitting near the bed, and rose as the child entered, saying, "Why George, what has kept you so long? You know the doctor said Anne was to get the broth as soon as possible, and now it is near one o'clock; where have you been loitering ?"

The little fellow held down his head, but did not answer. "Come now, tell me, for your poor sister fainted just now from weakness; and if I cannot trust you to fetch the broth which Dr. Graham kindly gives us, I must ask John Roberts to go for it."

The child began to cry, and sobbed out, "Indeed I only stopped a little while to get the butterfly, and I won't do it again, mother; but it was so pretty, and I thought Anne would have liked it.”

The poor little sufferer, whose wasted form and transparent skin told of long and trying illness, now said, with a faint, low voice, "Don't cry, George, I am better now."

The little fellow threw himself on his knees by the bedside, kissed her several times, and begged her to forgive him. "We will go and look for butterflies together when I am well, George," she said. Poor child! her day of health, it was too evident, would never rise in this world; she was fast passing to that better land where there would be no pain, no sickness.

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I had been standing unnoticed by the mother, in her anxiety for the dying child. She now perceived me, and came forward, saying, "I beg your pardon, ma'am, but my poor child is very ill ;" and she burst into tears. I tried to comfort her, but, knowing from painful experience how worse than useless are words at such a time, I waited until her grief had in some measure subsided, and then explained the cause of my intrusion.

"Yes, ma'am," she said, "George is a good boy, and doats upon his sister; but he is thoughtless, and led by the impulse of the moment. My poor Anne has been long ill, and our kind doctor gives us broth and milk for her; but I fear it is of no use. May I be enabled to say, 'GOD's will be done!'

The young woman's manner and tone of voice were so superior to those of a common cottager, that I felt sure

she must have seen better days. "Is your husband

alive ?" I asked.


No, ma'am, my husband has been dead these four years. He had a good situation as bailiff at that gentleman's place yonder, and had saved a little money. I am not able to do much; but with what he left, and a little sewing I sometimes get from the ladies over there, I am able to get on pretty well, and have, indeed, much to be thankful for." The sick child made a sign to her mother that she wanted her, and I took leave of this interesting young creature with deep sympathy, and an earnest hope that GOD would enable her to bear with resignation this bitter trial.

As I descended the hill, thoughts of wasted time and 'opportunities of usefulness thrown away, came crowding fast upon me. Who amongst us can pride himself on being less neglectful than this poor peasant boy? How many butterflies cross our daily path, in pursuit of which we turn away from the real good we might effect,-from the true peace which must await us in the path of duty; and, after many a disappointment, many a hardship, if the prize be obtained, is it not often worthless when possessed? What bitter tears are shed from the heart's depths over the unsatisfying treasure so dearly purchased. Ambition, Love, Glory, present lures to every ardent

spirit, painted in Hope's gayest colours. We almost all follow some one of these in youth or riper age; but who can say that in these lies contentment? Oh what agony, to think that the object for which dangers have been overcome, obstacles surmounted, and all but life itself exchanged, is, at the moment of possession, slipping from our grasp! What a victory has the fell destroyer over those wanderers from the true path, who have wasted time-ay, and perhaps forfeited a happy immortality,— for a painted toy, no sooner won, than lost for ever!

The sun still shone brightly; the birds sang gaily as ever: but a shadow had fallen on my heart, and imparted a sombre hue to the landscape. The sound of a horn gave me warning to hasten, lest I should miss the coach that was to convey me from Penrith; and as I took my seat, I inwardly resolved that I would not hastily forget the lesson taught me by the Butterfly Chase.

The Editor's Desk.


WE have before alluded to the commencement and progress of the works at S. Mary Church, Devon, and gave our readers an engraving of the exterior, (Vol. XI. 1852,) and now that the new chancel, and the first portion of the new nave are opened for divine service, we desire to give them some account of the building in which we feel sure they are interested.

Standing in the old nave and looking eastward, we see before us the first bay of the new nave and its aisles and the chancel and its aisles. In arranging the plan for the new Church, difficulties had to be contended with which rendered an unequal proportion in the width of the aisles of the nave absolutely necessary; but we imagine that this arrangement is neither unsightly nor inconvenient; indeed the picturesque effect of the building is height

ened, and the general convenience of the parishioners not in the least diminished..

Of the architectural character of the building, we may observe that it is of the period named Geometrical, which prevailed from the year 1245 to 1315. The nave is intended, as has been shown, to have north and south aisles, separated from it by arcades of five bays. The piers have, on the cardinal faces, shafts of polished marble with moulded bases and carved capitals. The arches are richly moulded. The roofs are open timbered and boarded; those of the nave and south aisle of high pitch; the north aisle a lean-to; they are covered with strong Cornish slates. The open benches are of deal, very slightly stained, and varnished, of one uniform height, and so arranged that the piers may be seen distinctly from their bases upwards. The prayer desk and lectern are of oak, well carved and moulded. The pulpit, which is of Bath stone, is open at the back, and approached by three steps. The chancel screen, which is all but complete, is of Caen stone, very low, buttressed, and formed into three divisions in each half. These are again thrown in traceried panels, with rich mouldings and marble shafts, the groundwork being formed of richly inlaid slabs of marble, in appropriate devices, and of the choicest specimens found in the parish, highly polished.

The effect of this screen is very striking; and where the elaborate brass gates and cresting are fixed, we imagine it may well be looked upon as one of the most perfect pieces of Church furniture of modern days. The chancel is 48 ft. 6 in. in length, 23 ft. 4 in. wide, and 32 ft. 8 in. high to the apex of the oak vaulting. The principal and diagonal ribs of this vaulting spring from shafts composed of marble and stone, which rest upon carved corbels. The vaulting is divided into four bays, and at each intersection of the ribs carved bosses are fixed, containing in the midst of the foliage a Majesty, an Agnus Dei, a Cross, the Sacred Monogram, the Five Wounds-all the emblems of the Apostles, and other subjects. The aisles are separated from the chancel by arcades of two bays, and exquisite piers of solid marble, support the richly moulded arches. Within these arcades are par

closes of iron with brass pillars, and on the cresting of each are brass crowns from which at each end rise crosses and triple-light gas burners in the intermediate spaces, from which a powerful light is diffused over the chancel. The oak rails cross the chancel on the first step into the sacrarium, which adjoins upon the responds of the arcades; they are richly carved and moulded, but perfectly open. The workmanship of this beautiful part of the furniture was the execution and offering of Messrs. Wm. and Henry T. Taylor, both parishioners.

The east wall is reached by three steps, two within and one without the rails, and the altar stands upon a pace. The reredos which is of stone, is richly moulded, with marble shafts. The centre panel contains a carved representation in Caen stone of the Last Supper of great beauty. In the northernmost panel of the end compartment is seen the end of the corner stone, laid by the Right Hon. Sir John Patteson, Knt. This stone passes through the wall, and in each end is a cross within a moulded quatrefoil, carved by the architect. The east window is of five lights, and is copied from one of the choir aisle windows in the Cathedral of Exeter. An oak chair and desk are placed on the north side for the use of the Lord Bishop of the diocese, who resides within the parish. These are the work of Mr. Thos. Lidstone of Dartmouth.

The stalls for the choir are of oak, with carved knops to the elbows, and angels terminating the standards of the desks, each holding a scroll with an appropriate text in relief. The needlework from designs by Mr. Hugall, the architect, is most magnificent, and was executed by ladies. Thanks are due to Mr. Woodley, for his noble liberality in the matter of marble, and to the clerk of the works for his great care and skill: and we are more than ever convinced that the way to have Churches once more the glory of the land is to have them designed not only by skilful architects, but by those whose hearts are thrown like Mr. Hugall's, into the whole system of the Church.

And now we must also congratulate the Vicar, the Rev. Alexander Watson, upon the successful manner in

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