mother, should have the best May-tree in the village. Suddenly a third person joined the two lads; he had been concealed behind the church porch; had heard their conversation, and now called out, "Wait a moment, will you, and take me with you! I did not intend to let myself be seen, for I was just going to be up to a bad trick; but what Peter there has said about Liesbeth, has made me quite change my mind. She is a fine girl, worthy of being highly respected. I had intended to set my tree before the door of the grumbling old forester, so that it should tap at the window of his bedroom, and say to him, Dost thou forbid the innocent pastime with the Maytrees, although GOD has let trees enough grow in the wood for you gold-seeking people? The brave lads don't care a bit for thy prohibition; and if thy vigilance were even still greater, they would still be a match for you.' So with this intention, I fetched yesterday this beautiful birch-tree from the forest; and though the old fellow has no daughter, yet I meant that the tree should to-morrow adorn the door of the unfriendly forester. But now I have another idea,-Liesbeth shall have three May-trees; and I'll wager no other girl in the village will have as many. If I had not spent all my money on dancing the other evening, I would knock up the shopkeeper, and buy some ribbons; at all events, I will hang my new neckerchief on the top."

No sooner said than done. Wilhelm quickly untied his purple silk neckerchief, and fastened it on the birch, while his two friends waited till he was ready. Then they all set off together to the mill, the noise of which prevented any of the inhabitants from hearing anything of the planting of the trees. Never were May-trees planted with more pleasure; and they now stood like a triumphal arch before the door, just opposite the cartshed. The bright ribbons and neckerchief fluttered gaily in the morning breeze; and, as the three lads departed, a little early goldfinch perched on the waving branches, and sang so sweetly, as if he would awaken Liesbeth, so that she should quickly see the beautiful trees which had been prepared in her honour.

But she still slept soundly. She had cried herself to

sleep, for her foster-mother had again been treating her unkindly. "Alas! no one in the wide world cares for me; no one is good and kind to me," murmured the poor girl in her solitary chamber: and her heart beat heavily and sadly. "I will lie down to sleep; then, at least, I am at peace,”—and then she wept. "Ah! if I were but at home for yonder, in heaven, have I a true Friend!” And then she prayed to this Friend, Who is the Friend and Comforter of all those who mourn and are forsaken : and gradually her heart became tranquil; her tears dried; and at last she slept soundly and sweetly.

In the morning she rose early. The miller was gone to work, and his wife slept till late in the day. When Liesbeth had finished all her necessary work, she dressed herself quickly, in order to go to church. "It is Whitsunday to-day," said she to herself. "How beautiful the green May-trees will look yonder, at Theresa's door."

Her toilette was finished; she gathered a nosegay of Whitsuntide roses from the little garden behind the mill, and then stepped out into the road. Her first glance was towards the house where Theresa lived: but how was it? not a single May-tree stood there! And wherefore did the folks who were going to Church remain standing at the mill, and look with curiosity at Liesbeth, greeting her more kindly than they ever had before?

Just then the wind wafted a bright red ribbon over her shoulder. She turned round astonished: there stood the three splendid trees; one only in the natural beauty of its green branches,-but then it was the tallest and most beautiful; its white bark shone like silver. And close by were the two others, with their bright ribbons and beautiful purple neckerchief. To whom could they belong? There was no other maiden in the mill but herself, and she-alas! no one cared enough for her to give her the least pleasure, much less to honour her in this way! "And besides," thought she, "how could I have deserved it ?"

But what was that in the shining bark of the unadorned May-tree? An inscription, composed of the prickles of the dog-rose. "Liesbeth!" Yes, there was no deception; the lovely trees belonged to her: though who

And now

could have planted them, she could not guess. her heart beat high for joy that she, the poor, timid Liesbeth, was not quite without friends in the world,—she was not utterly despised; and the tears came in her eyes, she knew not how, her pale, plain face was slightly tinged with a soft blush,-and as she stood there so deeply moved, with downcast eyes, scarcely had even Theresa looked so pretty.

This latter just then came out of the door, with her. haughty mien. She greeted no one; she scarcely looked up, and occupied herself with her dress, so that she need not be obliged to notice the May-trees over at the mill. How ever happened it that homely Liesbeth should have three such splendid trees before her door, which, as might be seen by their decorations, had been planted by some of the richest of the village youths? A soldier only would have defied the prohibition of the forester; the rest were frightened, and except before the mill, there were but few May-trees. And Liesbeth was neither pretty nor rich; she was only an orphan, who had neither friends nor relations! Theresa could have cried with vexation and envy.

But the peasants who stood before the mill, and wondered at the marked distinction which had befallen Liesbeth, said one to the other, "The maiden must be particularly excellent, for she has never bribed any one by her beauty, or her gay behaviour; there must be something else in the case; the young men would never have planted before her door three of the most beautiful May-trees ever seen, without some good reason." And now they all took off their caps to the maiden, and everyone could tell something praiseworthy and good of her: she had taught the child of one her letters, when she lay ill of the scarlet fever; she had combed flax for an old woman who had bad eyes, and so should avoid the fine dust arising from it. All her goodness now came to light.

But Liesbeth went to Church in as humble a spirit as ever-nay, even more,-and prayed fervently with a joyful, comforted heart. And in the evening, when no one could see her, she quietly slipped out to her green Maytrees, threw her arms round the white, slender stems, and

wept--but with tears of a different sort to those she had so often shed; and the evening breeze whispered to her through the green branches soothingly and gently of hope and peace. E. B. C.

The Editor's Desk.

CHURCH NEWS.

Or the many interesting events that have taken place during the last month, we can only select one or two, as we have not much space at our disposal. And first of all give we to the Apostolic Bishop of New Zealand, that greeting which he deserves, and with which every reader of the Companion will be glad to meet him. His lordship has been giving at Oxford an account of his See, and we shall make no apology for extracting somewhat largely from his speech at a meeting presided over by the Lord Bishop of the diocese. With a truly Catholic spirit he stated that he did not wish to press the claims of his diocese to the injury of others. There were three points of view in which his Church deserved attention. 1. As an instance of God's blessing upon missionary work. 2. As illustrating the progress of the Church in the colonies. And 3. As the centre of further missionary operations. What will English readers say to this? We hope they will blush and repent.

"The external indications of the progress of the work of the Gospel in New Zealand were most gratifying; more so than any one could have been led to expect. For example, there was found in England great difficulty in gathering the people together for daily prayer. Hundreds of Clergymen would introduce the practice of daily prayer, if they could command a daily congregation. No such difficulty existed in New Zealand, as a matter of certainty, wherever the missionary travelled, he was certain to hear at sunrise the sound of the chapel bell summoning the native population to their morning prayers, and as certainly as evening closed in, would that sound fall upon his ear. There was never the slightest question as to whether the Clergyman would attend at those hours; it would be regarded as the utmost neglect of duty if he failed to do so. Nor did his

duties cease with those services. After they were done, there would come streams of converts, Testament in hand, to inquire respecting difficult passages, and these would sit round the door of his tent even until midnight, asking every possible question upon matters of diffi culty, and conducting themselves throughout in a manner which evinced their perfect seriousness and earnest desire to arrive at the truth. This was a marked feature of the Clergyman's day, and often constituted his severest labour. Such was the state of things which he found in the country on his arrival in 1842. The experience of eleven years had enabled him to see that the offer of salvation had been made, and, in a great measure, gladly received in every place from north to south; but not always by the agency of the English Bishops, for it was one of the most gratifying features of the case that the greatest willingness existed among the people to give each other the benefit of instruction in the truths of the Gospel, and a great part of the labour was undertaken by eight hundred native teachers, not one of whom received any pecuniary reward, but who willingly undertook to perform the service of the Church, besides visiting the sick natives, and in every possible way aiding the missionaries who often lived a hundred miles away from the scene of their labours. The utmost remuneration these men ever received was the gift of clothes in which to perform their duties with decency. In some eight hundred villages had the work of the Gospel been carried on during the last forty years, by the free will agency of these men alone."

We have before now directed attention to the Melanesian missions. The Bishop shall plead his cause for himself; and we trust that he did not plead in vain at Oxford-but that some response was made-and some offered to go out and share the burthen and heat of the day, with a missionary Bishop whose zeal is second to none that the Church in any age delighted to honour.

"A short time since, it pleased Almighty GoD to draw his atten tion to an enormous mass of population in the islands lying to the north and north-east of New Zealand; a population deeply interesting to every Christian. He immediately conceived the idea of bringing these islands under the ministration of the Gospel. The course adopted was, to attempt the conversion of some few of the islanders to whom they had access, and who afterwards guided the missionaries among the savage tribes of their countrymen, by whom they were eventually received into favour. This attempt it had pleased God to crown with success, and in some fifty islands the religion of CHRIST had been established. What greatly tended to impart confidence in the ultimate result of these labours was the fact, that in almost every one of these islands they were enabled to induce the young men to place themselves under their charge for education in the colonial schools. The only drawback, was the fact of the climate of New