guarded, noticed the evident discontent that had settled upon his countenance, and concluded that something was wrong. He was ill at ease.-Dark forebodings haunted him day and night; the words which Lucy-his own Lucy had spoken rung fearfully in his ears, as if pregnant with an awful meaning. The scene at Simpson's, which he would not allow her to describe, but which he had subsequently called in to witness, was ever before his eyes. In the crowded city, in his own drawing room, or on his bed, the wild eyes of dying Simpson glanced wildly upon him, and he began to be afraid lest some evil might be about to fall upon him.

Nor were his apprehensions relieved by what he witnessed in the factories but two days before Christmas day. Resolved to see with his own eyes, he entered them with a stately air. It was so unusual for him to walk through the close and ill-ventilated rooms, that greater surprise would scarcely have been felt had the Queen herself unexpectedly entered. Wherever he went he seemed to be an object of terror. The young girls timidly drew back, and scarcely dared so much as look upon him; the men glanced sullenly at him with lowering brow and menacing eyes, and darkly whispered one to another as he passed. When he had finished his survey, he retired to his drawing room, took up the paper, and endeavoured to banish all further thought by the reflection that he had might on his side, and so in a while he checked the little feelings of humanity that had for a moment been stirred up within his breast.

A few hours afterwards the bell rang, and the streaming multitudes of starved beings rushed forth from the factory gates to their cheerless homes. But few of the men men stayed long in doors. It was a dark night, and dark deeds were to be planned. The moon did not rise until late, and therefore every advantage was to be taken of it. In the village itself, all was quiet, and hushed, as if peace, and peaceful thoughts alone ruled there. And yet there was indeed a wild degree of excitement prevailing, such as had never before been known.

About a mile from the town was a wild barren heath, along which a river ran. At the extreme end of this, below some craggy overhanging rocks was a cave of immense length. Thither the factory hands bent their way, in knots of two and three, until the cave was full. The torches with which many of them had come prepared threw a lurid glare over all. It was evident at a glance that they who filled that vast cave had been summoned by no common circumstances, and for no ordinary purpose. It was evident too, that some in that motley group were like hungry wolves looking out for their prey. They seemed sickly, maddened, hopeless, desperate. There were women too,

though few in number: women whose wan faces told of hunger and pain long endured, and of desperation that would suffer no more. For a few moments a slight murmuring and whisperings in an undertone might be heard. But this soon gave place to a perfect quiet, which was at length only broken by the boisterous applause with which they greeted one, who rose up to address them.

He was a middle aged man, of commanding stature and demeanour his face pale though it bore upon it marks of firm determination, and fixed resolves; and yet did it seem calm, and peaceful withal. He evidently felt strongly, and though he spake as one who feared not, there was ever and anon a tremulousness of voice, which told that he was deeply sensible of the wrong position in which they were placed.

He began―

"Fellow workmen, or rather I should have said fellow slaves, we have met to-night to decide what shall be done. The time has come, when we must assert our rights or lose them for ever. We have been trodden on like worms, and like them we must turn again. As I were on my road here to-night, I were thinking how many thousand pounds England had spent to 'mancipate slaves abroad, and yet there are thousands at home, who are no less slaves on English ground. We have tyrants over us, hard task masters, who work us to death, tread us under foot, and would grind us to powder. They are built on our ruin. They build fine houses, ride in grand carriages, have fine drawing rooms, with grand furniture and pictures, and we pine and slave, we who make the wealth, don't share it in any way. Is that fair, and just, and right? I was once not a wild man, but I am mad now. They call me a miserable Chartist, and so I am, if starvation is Chartism. But mind, I don't say that I would pull down the rich men's houses, or injure them that injure us. No! It is our duty to respect rank, and them as is above us. It is God's will that sum on us should be rich, and sum poor, work is our lot, and it has always been my blessing. I am as you all know a Churchman, I love my Church, for I hev always found ease when I hev gone to pray to God. As a Churchman I cannot speak to-neet without much pain. I wish we could have done what we want in some other ways. we canna get a living, and the workman is worthy of his hire. A fair reward for our work is all we want, and therefore I propose that a deputation be down to wait upon our maister, and ask him to give us our just demands."

But

After many wild speeches, and much excitement, the advice of the foreman was adopted, and the meeting adjourned until the following night.

Church News.

FEAST OF THE DEDICATION OF S. JOHN THE BAPTIST, HARLOW.

AGAIN we have the pleasure of recording the feast of the dedication of S. John the Baptist's Church, Harlow, and again we have had the privilege of attending this its eighth anniversary. These are troublous times it is true. And still these days, like our Church's Saints' days, must be kept and hallowed, we must not leave off anything because the days are sad and full of trouble, but rather increase our zeal; these meetings and such as these where the rich and the poor are met together, first at the table of the LORD, and then at the table of the village feast, as one company, will serve to remind us that our Church is indeed the Church of olden times, the poor man's Church, the very Church of Old England; they will be a bond of union, by which we may rally round our Banner and strengthen each other in the time of need; they are marks of unity, and who that looks around at the times in which we live, but will say that now if ever unity, real, living, active outward unity, is under God's blessing our best safeguard?

We should never tire of visiting the quiet spot on which stands the church of S. John Baptist.-A neat Early English Church, it stands in one of the best kept church-yards we ever saw, all the dead in CHRIST placed one way, as looking for the coming of the LORD, the grass cut evenly over all, and where it could be afforded neat wooden grave crosses are erected with name and death on them —the nicely kept almshouses overlook the church-yard, and so the old members have ever in mind that their Pilgrimage here draws nigh to an end. We entered the Church as the bell was ringing for morning prayer, at ten, and here indeed was the "beauty of holiness." The chancel arch was covered with evergreens, and on it was written, "The LORD is risen indeed." The font and altar were decorated with most beautiful flowers, and every part of the Church told of the festival of Easter. The Choir was essentially a Village one, but the pains evidently bestowed on it have not been thrown away, and they well performed their part in the LORD'S service. By twelve, the visitors from London and the neighbourhood had arrived, and the bell now rung for Holy Communion, when the Church was quite full: the Nicene Creed and Sanctus were most expressively sung to the ancient Church tones; the sermon was preached by the Vicar of Arlington, Sussex, from the second chapter of the Acts of the Holy Apostles, ver. 41 to 45. It was an able exposition of the doctrine of Christian and Apostolic Unity, and its effect on the early Church, and the ill effects of its

loss; its application was remarkably apposite to the interesting scene which followed the service. The Holy Communion was administered to all those present, except the children, in number about two hundred. The reverence and order was such as to deeply impress young and old.

All now proceeded to the Vicarage at the other end of the parish, where, in a large barn which has been frequently used for such assemblies, rich and poor, gentle and simple, all sat down together, -grace being said by the Vicar, a good dinner was served which was enjoyed by all, and the good fellowship was delightful to see. Conversing with one old lady, we heard that it was the custom of the Curate of S. John's to have a number of the poorest and oldest Communicants to dine at his table every Sunday, and that the Vicar and his sister were not the only ones fed from the Vicarage table. To witness the good understanding between the pastors and their flock, the rich and the poor, was indeed a privilege, and with the Vicar's sister scarcely a trouble, doubt, or difficulty, or that of their offspring in many generations, was unknown or unattended to.

The only scriptural way of offerings and alms which has been carried out many years in this parish has been blessed with good success. After dinner grace was sung in harmony, by the Curate of S. John's and his choir, all standing with heads uncovered and reverently bent.

The Vicar then said,-My Christian friends and parishioners, we are assembled here once more, by the grace of GoD, to celebrate the anniversary of the dedication of the church of S. John Baptist, and we are once more met together in the old barn* to declare our increased, deep-rooted, and ever extending attachment to the old principles of the Church and the country. Certainly, things are just now in lamentable confusion, and the first piece of advice which I have to give you is, for all of you, as far as you can, in quietness to discover your own duty, and in patience to fulfil it. In a storm at sea, when neither sailors nor commanders understand their duty, danger is imminent, and I cannot deny that that, in some degree, is our own case. Let us, then, first endeavour to discover the right course. Our principles, then, are "the Church and the Queen," not according to the modern version, but according to the ancient interpretation of those principles. It will be impossible for any of us to understand the true relation between Church and State unless we find what the Church is in herself and what the State is in itself. The science of legislation is a deep and difficult one, which cannot be mastered without a patient and enlightened study of the principles of law-no more than a man could become a fluent and powerful writer without learning the alphabet. My object in now addressing you is, to induce you to

*We should mention that a most beautiful school is now nearly completed, built by the Squire, in which no doubt the next feast will be held.

think, each of you according to his station. Truth is said to be at the bottom of the well; and depend upon it, you need never expect to find it upon the surface by a casual and slight search. The Church is so ordered and arranged in its constitution as to be independent of the State. Every institution has a revenue, and the Church has a revenue in herself, as she is independent in her endowment, so is she in her jurisdiction. Would that the position of the Church was more generally known and more frequently studied. If we were to study the old books a little oftener-and they are by far better than modern ones, in nine instances out of ten-such principles and practice would be better understood and more highly appreciated. I rejoice to find great sensitiveness exhibited in respect to encroachments on the constitution of the Church. The strength of the Church lies in the developement of the whole of her system-the carrying out efficiently of her several parts. Interference with these several parts one after the other has been in the past the policy of her enemies, by which they have done her incalculable mischiefs. The first evil, perhaps, was the interference with the Church endowments. Now, there is a great want of sensitiveness in regard to the present condition of the poor. I mean that the rich and poor do not understand the relation they bear to each other. I lament exceedingly the want of sensitiveness exhibited by some of the rich on points affecting the poor. There have been reports published in a daily paper of the misery and destitution of the people which ought to make one blush. I should like to see also the state of their morals looked into. I should have liked to have seen the Bishops and Priests consulting together for the purpose of improving both the moral and physical condition of the poor. Depend upon it, these things must be done. A year ago we read of pauper children being farmed out by contract, and of their dying by hundreds of cholera. We are sensitive in respect to invasions of the institutions of the Church, but there was no one to take up that dreadful business. I must not be understood to find fault with the sensitiveness I have men

tioned. I am deeply grateful to Almighty Providence for the feeling which is now stirring the Church from one end of England to the other. We are then to strive to prevent anything or any power from interfering with the principles upon which the Church is established. If we allow anything human to take the place of those laws which the Church has received from her Divine Head, she cannot retain jurisdiction over her own affairs-the priesthood, by whom her blessings are dispensed, nor the sacraments in which they are conveyed. It is a question both of reason and of faith. The principles of "Church and Queen," are those alone under which the nation can prosper. Those principles do not sanction in any way the seizure of Church endowments. The State is the means by which the Church is secured in the possession of