founded in the time of the Apostle here is certain, and of course it is highly probable that the Christians, who were so cruelly persecuted in Britain in the ages following, were descendents of that apostolic Church." "Well, but sir," began Collings. "Well, but my boy," said Mr. Trevilly, “we must not just yet get into discussion about King Henry the Eighth and the Reformation again; all will come in good time: but we must always begin things at the beginning, you know. And now I will ask you, my boys, if you know what the religion of the ancient Britons was ?" "Druidism," said Charles Milton; "the book says so-the History of England book, I mean, sir." "And what was Druidism?" said Mr. Trevilly. Visions of a very large hollow man, stuffed with little men, acorns, oak trees, and mistletoe boughs floated across the minds of the boys rather confusedly. Charles Milton, however, ventured to answer the question. "It was a form of idolatry, sir," he replied. "There were several forms of idolatry in those times," said Mr. Trevilly. "Do you remember any of the peculiarities of Druidism ?" "I believe, sir," continued Charles, "it is not quite known what they believed-not all of it, at least. The principal teachers were called flamens or priests, whose chief mode of communicating knowledge to the people was by teaching them long songs about the nature of things in heaven and earth, and the wonderful deeds of their forefathers." "Very long songs indeed, I should think," said Anderson; "longer even than Chevy Chase.'" "Well, perhaps they were longer; the book does not say how many verses there were, so it is quite impossible that I can enlighten you on that point, Bob; only I suppose they hardly taught everything in one song," replied Charles. "Or to one tune, I suppose," pursued Anderson," since they were so musical." "Come, Anderson," said Mr. Trevilly, "Charley will never get on with his account of the Druids, if you harass him so much about the songs." Charles continued-"The Druids also sacrificed human victims; the prisoners taken in battle, and malefactors, were generally put to death in this way. Sometimes also persons would devote themselves to be sacrificed by the Druids' hands, or vow to offer another life." "Oh! those were the poor people they stuffed the great wicker-work man with before they burnt him," said Edward Milton. “What a dreadful idolatry it was to make them kill so many people together in such a cruel way!" "Yes, indeed, they were careless enough about shedding blood; but I believe," said Charles, addressing Mr. Trevilly, "they thought that when the soul left one body, it went into another, either into some man or animal.” “Yes,” replied Mr. Trevilly, “they seem to have believed in what is called the transmigration of souls, and this belief, I doubt not, did make them more reckless in shedding human blood. Most thankful indeed ought we to be, my dear boys, for GOD's great mercy, in sending the light of His glorious Gospel to enlighten the thick darkness which hung once so gloomily over this our land. Oh, pray Him to enable you to live as children of the light, that you may show forth your thankfulness for His mercy not only with your lips, but in your lives. And now, my dear boys, I think we must close our conversation for this evening. It is time for you to return to your homes; but I hope you will think over, and talk over, (if your parents would like it,) all that we have been speaking of. I shall be very sorry if you forget easily the subject of our conversation, as it will make what follows less useful and interesting to you. Goodnight, my boys; good-night." The boys all rose and knelt down reverently, whilst the worthy Priest pronounced over them the blessing, which they had learnt from him to value. G. R. P. THE VILLAGE CHURCH OF NORTON FITZ WARREN. BEAUTIFUL for situation is the little village Church of Norton Fitzwarren. The vales resound with the voice of rustic mirth and gladness, as the sun's declining ray runs down; while the haymakers, regardless of the coming night, hasten to finish the labour of their fields, before the light of the Sabbath morn dawns upon that rural scene. The pastures round are clothed with flocks, the valleys are covered over with corn; they shout and sing for joy. On a gentle ascent from the village, in the midst of such a happy people, is this quiet sanctuary, set as a light on a hill; for its tower is seen as a distant landmark rising amidst the trees, and its silvery bells mingle their sweet melody with the larger Churches. How peaceful was this country Church upon one of these week-day occasions, when, before the service had begun, I had time to consider the length and breadth thereof, to admire the low carved oak seats, and wonder with regret why the antiquity of some should have been marred by the pieces of wood affixed to render them of the usual exclusive order. A screen behind the pulpit divides the chancel from the rest of the Church; the bells are ringing, but the hammer is still heard; for part of the roof is under repair, which, far from desecrating this holy house, rather brings to the idea Solomon's temple of old, although no tool of iron was then heard in erecting those rafters of fir, and those beams of cedar. The little congregation are awaiting their good Pastor; the carpenter in his working jacket has taken up his book, and is seated within, on a free bench near the porch, laying aside his tools for the hour of prayer. The happy group of schoolchildren sing with one accord, "O be joyful in the LORD all ye lands;" the Book of the Law is read; the Gospel of Divine truths tells of mercy and peace to the contrite; the beautiful Litany and Psalms all tend to soothe, to cheer, to comfort those who call upon the Name of the LORD, who enter into His gates with thanksgiving, and into His courts with praise. The service is ended; the esteemed Curate and his young wife are wending their way home through the corn-field; the workman is again on the roof; the humble congregation each take their different routes; the sexton is the last to be seen under the old portico, and he too is now gone. No one near, save the dead around; and many are the little hillocks on which the turf is raised. Some of the more wealthy are enclosed by heavy tombs, and, as though that were not strong enough, are encircled by iron railings; while further off is a rustic fence, guarding the choice flowers that creep around the resting-place of some loved one, who, although gone, is not forgotten-the living clinging to the dead-the bright colours of the roses contrasting so strangely with the solemn grey stone! But most of the departed sleep in their own tranquil peace, the grass concealing each separate grave from the eyes of the world, making it one smooth level turf. And then the corn-fields, a few yards only from the Church door, the summit of which is even with the top of the tower; and in a moment the Church is as a picture in a bird's-eye view,-an orchard with its low walls, divide it on the one side, and on the other a pretty grove of trees, to shade and shelter this sweet retreat. There is nothing remarkable in the tower, and yet it is very old, with curiously carved figures projecting from many parts, grinning down, and looking like nothing either human or divine. The churchwardens have done all they can to spoil the beauty of the windows, by decorating the arches with a yellow plaster, which they call an improvement; seeming resolved that this venerable edifice shall not decay by the idleness of their hands. And yet, by the mutilated ornaments, this little Church appears to have withstood the shock of a troubled and persecuted age, and all the rough usage of the Reformation. "Bon temps viendra," as the symbol of her faith implies, (a motto placed quaintly over the organ-loft,) shows that God has subdued her enemies under her feet; for the King's daughter is now all glorious within; violence is no more heard in the land, wasting nor destruction within her borders; her walls can now be called salvation, and her gates praise. Leading through the wheat-field, which reminds one of the SAVIOUR and His Disciples plucking the ears of corn on that Sabbath day-descending a grassy slope, in which cattle graze, and across another teeming field, is the Rector's lowly thatched cottage, with its picturesque porch of rustic wood; resembling more a labourer's house in its homely simplicity, were it not for the "parson's barn," which portends plenteous garners full of all manner of store. The weathercock on the roof tells of propitious weather, while the dark green ivy spreads a mantle over the tout ensemble. The clematis, in all its natural luxuriance, is actually flying over the hedges; but so completely embedded is this little dwelling, that one can only imagine from the outside what peace and prosperity exist within its walls. "How godly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, O Israel!" "Lift up your eyes and look on the fields, for they are white already to harvest!" Even in July the corn of this fertile vale is ready for the sickle, while the humblest cottages are richly laden with the fruit of the vine, which spreads its delicate fibres over the poorest man's home; thus each blade of grass has its own drop of dew, and "Nature, all her children viewing, Their threshing seems to reach unto the vintage, and the vintage unto the sowing time. Watered with the dew of Hermon, they plough in hope and thresh in hope, neither sowing nor reaping in vain; for the righteous are compassed about, and heaven deals bountifully with those who find His sabbath a delight, the holy of the LORD, honourable; who attend the week-day service, actuated by the spirit of devotion, not suffering the house of GOD to be open without being themselves of the joyful number. As the outward man waxes feeble, so the inward man is renewed day by day, by the continuation of devout exercises; committing their hopes and fears to the care of Providence, leaving their sorrows in His hands, and returning to their duties of pleasure and of toil, with their burdens lightened from sweet intercourse with the Deity. The rose, the myrtle, and the jasmine try to outrun each other in clambering up the vines of their cottages; the bees dance in the sunbeam, while the little ones of their household sport on the green. And undoubtedly there is a joy and peace in the village of Norton, shedding a light and religious cheerfulness over the little community. And is it to be wondered at? Do those harmonious bells chime on Sundays, and during the week, for no good purpose? Is it a vain thing to seek the LORD where He may be found? "Them that honour Me, I will honour; and they that despise Me shall be lightly esteemed," -so easy is it to discern between the righteous and the wicked; from him that serveth GOD, and him that serveth Him not. But this is a happy people, blessed with Christian privileges, and not insensible to the mercies vouchsafed them; keeping the ordinances of the Most High blameless, so that showers of blessings water this fruitful land, "that there is not room to receive it." When they cut down their harvest in the field, and when the grapes of their vineyard are gathered, the work of their hands is prospered upon them, and with quiet assurance (which is ever the effect of righteousness) they dwell in peaceable habitations, and in sure dwellings; for even as they exalt Him in the congregation of the people, and praise Him in the seat of the elders, so does He make the outgoings of their mornings and evenings to rejoice, crowns their ears with gladness, and causes their paths to drop fatness. For those who visit His temple, and dwell under the shadow of His protection, will find not only rest to their souls in this life, but from walking here below in His house with a perfect heart, will finally be exalted to that better temple, not made with hands, eternal in the heavens ! RESIGNATION. Oн bright was the mantle and tenderly shaded, Endearingly, endearingly. But ah! ere the first swell of rapture subsided, A jealous cloud robbed the gemm'd grass of its beam; |