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He presents a complication—a contradiction—" a chimera." He is "a pigmy standing on the outward crust of this small planet, but his farreaching spirit stretches outward to the infinite, and there alone finds rest." From all the lofty thoughts, august conceptions, and marvellous
successes of the past or present, let
"Heaven-born, the soul a heavenward course most hold;
, CHAPTER U.
Ten years had passed away. The scenery of that Devonshire coast is unaltered, and the vdiee of the sea still sings its mysterious song.
A little boy with'a barrow and a spade is digging i trenches in the sand, and watching with glee the 'progress of the tide through the channels he has cut. 'r Beside' a huge slab of rock a gentleman is reclining. He holds a book in his hand, but his eyes wander over the sea and follow the course of the sea-birds, as they wheel round and round overhead. There is a strange light in that face, the smile that parts the lips remind you of a gleam of sunshine from a < loud-bank. There are deep lines in the forehead which speak of prolonged sorrow, and although not forty years have passed over that head, the hair is grey.
The tide was rolling in, and had washed away the sand towers and canals which the child had made, and gathering up his barrow and spade, he came and sat beside his father.
"Papa," said the child, "you promised to tell me a story when we were on the sea-shore. Will you tell it me now?"
"Yes, Ned, my boy, come and sit down on this rock out of the sun, and I will tell you a story.
"There was a little boat out at sea, and its white sails were glistening in the sun, and the birds fletv merrily round, and it sailed along smoothly and pleasantly over the
gentle waters. The captain was very happy to see his boat going along so well, and he thought he would soon get to the port towards which he was sailing. For many days the wind was fair, and the sea was smooth, and" he never thought of danger, but enjoyed himself all the livelong day.' There were lots of other ships on the sea, but none seemed'to be making such a prosperous voyage as his; some had lost their masts in recent storms, and some were beating up against the wind which was earning him so safely along. But one night the wind changed, and thick heavy clouds gathered in the sky, and the thunder rolled and rolled, the lightning gleamed forth from the dark clouds like the flashing eye of an angry God. The captain was frightened, for he had not thought of storms coming on, the helm of his ship was broken, and he had started on his voyage without a chart; and the waves beat upon his little ship, and dashed it about now high up on some great mass of waters and now sinking down into the dark valley. Wave upon wave, Ned, wave upon wave, struck that ship until all its sails and all its masts were gone!"
"And was the ship quite wrecked, papa, and did the captain die?" asked the child.
"The ship was wrecked, Ned. For many days and nights it was tossing about on the waters, and still, as the captain thought, was getting nearer and nearer to the port for which he was sailing, and he still hoped against hope, until one day he saw the land ahead, the very port he wanted to reach. But now it was that his vessel was wrecked; onward and onward it went, driven by the rough blast, until it was dashed on the shore, and the little ship was broken to pieces. But the captain was saved; he was washed up on the beach, and there, all alone, in a strange land, he mourned for the loss of his ship and all the precious stores it contained."
"That's a very miserable story, papa," said Ned, "is it true?"
"It is true, my boy, in the sense that a parable is true. Ned, do you know papa, was thinking of his own life when he told that story?"
"Then please tell me something about yourself without a parable, and all truth," said the child.
"Well, Ned, when I was a young man I thought I could sail safely on the sea of life without a chart or a helm. I did not think I wanted this book to guide me (pointing to a pocket Bible), and I made all my plans and purposes without thinking God only prospers our way as we follow His commandments. And, Ned, I had set my heart on an object which I loved more than anything in earth or heaven, more than I loved the good God who made us. It was your mamma, Ned; oh, I loved her so much, she was more than earth and more than heaven to me, and we sailed over the blue sea so happily, and all was so bright and fair around until dark days came, such storms rose, boy, that I wonder I ever lived through them; wave upon wave, wave upon wave, until all my hopes in life were wrecked, and your mamma went away to heaven, Ned, far away up there beyond those white cloudmountains, and left me alone in the world—alone!"
"No, papa, not alone; you have got Ned along with you, papa," said the child, drawing closer to his father, and brushing away the tears which was gently rolling down one of the furrows of his face, "Now let me tell you a story; it is true,
every word, for that dear old clergyman you met yesterday on the beach, and who talked with you such a long time, and gave you that book, he told it me when I went to his house this morning."
"There was a little ship out at sea, and the disciples were in it. and there was a great storm, and the wind blew boisterous rough, and the little ship seemed as if it was about to sink. And the disciples were so frightened, and they would all have been drowned, every one of them, only Jesus was in the ship. But He was down-stairs, in the cabin, asleep on a pillow, and they thought it was very hard of Him not even to seem to care for them, and to let their little boat be wrecked, and so they went down to Him, and said, ' Master, Master, we perish!' And I dare say they would have perished, papa, if they hadn't called on Jesus; and so He got up and said to the sea, ' Be still!' and the winds and the waves obeyed Him. And the disciples loved Him all the more because of the storm, because they saw it was God who sent the storm to teach them how great Jesus was, and I think, papa, that God sent your storm, that you might love Him more than anybody else, and took dear mamma away to heaven that you might always be thinking about heaven, and wanting to go there too."
• # • • • •
How manifold are the ministries of life! How complete the interweavings of Providence! Trials and troubles are His messengers, and darkness the precursor of the "Morning without clouds." He permits apparent evil in order to show distinctly the real good. He takes away sometimes the precious things of earth to lay up for us treasure in heaven.
How manifold are the ministries of life! The Book of Nature and the Book of Revelation, the stray words of a clergyman, the prattle of a child, these are the instrumentalities through which He rebukes the winds and the waves of trouble, and produces the soul's peaceful, holy calm.
MEMORANDA OF THE MONTHS.
By The Editor.
"The sixt was August, being rich array'd
This eighth month of the year, which in Spenser's day was considered the sixth, was called Sextili* by the Romans, till the Senate named it after the Emperor Augustus, who in this month was created Consul, thrice triumphed in Home, subdued Egypt, and made on end of the civil wars. Our Saxon ancestors called it Am, or Jiain-moiiath. "intending thereby the then tilling of their harries with corne." Am is the Saxon word for harvest. Ac cording to Bede, it was also called Woeilmonnth, or, Wci'hnonath ; i. e., Weedmonth,—a name likewise given to June, on account of the abundance of weeds the earth then produces.
The first of August you will find in all the . almanacs and in the calendar registered as Lammas Day. The antiquarian. Brand, seems to be rather puzzled about the true origin of Lammas-day, because some derive it from Lamb-Mas*; tenants who held lands under the cathedral church in York, dedicated to St. Peter ad Yincula, being formerly bound hy their tenure to bring a live lamb into the church at high mass; while others "derive it from a supposed offering or tything of lambs at this time." Blount tells us that Lammas is called Hlaf Mass; that is, loafmass, or bread mass, signifying a feast of thanksgiving for the firstfruits of the corn; an offering being made with bread of new wheat. And in some places tenants were bound to bring new wheat, called Lammas-wheat, to their lords, on or before the first of August. Another antiquarian affirms that this day was dedicated in Ireland to "the
sacrifice of the fruits of the toil:" that La-ith-mas," "the day of the obligation of grain," is pronounced Lac-mas, a word very readily corrupted into Lammas. He says, moreover, that ith signifies all kinds of grain, particularly wheat, and that mas signifies fruit of all kinds, especially the acom, whence the word mast. 'Which of these explications is the true one, I cannot pretend to determine: any one of them is reasonable enough.
Lammas-day is also called the Oule of August; another disputed term, concerning which divers authorities are given. One writes:— •' Probably from the Gothic Biol, or Jul, a wheel indicating that revolution of season which brought the return of harvest. According to Gebeline, one of the brotherhood of antiquaries, August was the first month of the Egyptian year, and it was called Gule, which being Latinized into Gula, signifies throat. "Brand's Antiquities" inform us, that legendaries being surprised to find this word at the head of the month of August, converted it to their own purposes; and they made out of it the feast of the daughter of the tribune Quirinus, who, it is pretended, was cured of a disorder in the throat (Gula) by kissing the chain of St. Peter on the day of its festival. "And thus," says another writer. "forcing the tjulc of the Egyptians into the throat of the tribune's daughter, they instituted a festival to Oule upon the festival day of St. Peter ad Vincula."
Now St. Peter ad Vincula, or the Feast of St. Peter's chains, though sensibly expunged from the Anglican calendar, still flourishes in that of Rome, and it is kept on this Gule and Lammas-day, the first of August. The Romish Church has the effrontery to pretend that she actually possesses one of the chains wherewith Peter was bound, and from which the angel delivered him. The same red mantled lady also declares that she possesses the chains— (all of them?) of St. Paul; and Pope Gregory, writing to the Empress Constantia, tells her "he will quickly send her some part of St. Paul's chains, if it be possible for him to file any off!" And the Pope goes on to add, referring to the possibility of his proposed benevolence :— *' Since so many frequently come begging a benediction from the chains, that they may receive a little of the filings thereof, therefore a priest is ready with a lile; and when some persons petition for it, presently, in a moment, something is filed off for them from the chains; but when others petition, though the file be drawn a great while through the chains, yet cannot the least jot be got off!" Very discriminating chains truly; and one is inclined to ask with Bishop Patrick, why these chains should not have a festival all to themselves, as well as the single one of St. Peter? A great Romish luminary furnishes us with a grave reply :— "Truly the bonds of St. Peter seem, not without reason, to be worshipped, though the bonds of the other apostles are not; for it is but fit that since he has the chief power in the Church of binding and loosing other men's bonds, that his bonds should also be had in honour of all the faithful!"
The Empress Eudocia is affirmed to have brought the two chains of St. Peter from Jerusalem, A.D. 43!); and one she graciously presented to a church in Constantinople, and the other she sent to Rome, "where," says Hope, "the old lady's chain has yielded, or not yielded, to the raspings of the file from time immemorial!'' Justinian sent ambassadors to the Pope, begging for some particles, and was so fortunate as to
obtain them; and Butler tells us how the Popes " were accustomed to send the filings, as precious relics, to devout princes: they were often instruments of miracles, and the Pope himself rasped them off for King Ahildebert (happy man!) '• and enclosed them in a golden key, to be hung about the neck!" Hone remarks that " Ahildebert no doubt experienced their aperient 'qualities!" Small as my own knowledge of allopathic medical science is, it seems to me that iron is always administered as a tonic, and not as an aperient! Our chief interest, as Englishmen, in St. Peter ad Vincula, lies in the fact, that the chapel within The Tower of London is thus dedicated. Within its walls many a victim has received the last consolations of religious rites; in front of it the block once stood, and within its vaults were thrust the dishonoured remains of the beautiful, and once beloved Anne Boleyn, second Queen of Henry VIII. Tradition, however, asserts that her dust was afterwards secretly removed from the Tower Chapel, and conveyed to Salle, in Norfolk, the ancient burial-place of the Boleyns. There is also in an ancient church at Thorden-on-the-Hill, in Essex, R nameless black marble monument, which village antiquaries say is the tomb of this hapless queen, but the evidence in favour of Salic, is undoubtedly the stronger.
On the 7th of August, you find as an affix in the calendar, "The Transfiguration of our Lord." It is the name of a Popish festival, instituted in celebration of Jesus Christ's glorification on Mount Tabor; or, as modern travellers believe, on Hermon; it being now pretty clearly established as a fact, that the transfiguration of our Blessed Lord did not take place on Mount Tabor, but on some other height of Palestine. Though the notification in the English calendar yet remains, the Anglican Church has no service for it ; neither, as far as I know, is it observed by any section of the Establishment.
The 10th of August is another day, practically ignored by the Church of England, and yet figuring among its festivals. It is dedicated to St. Lawrence, who suffered martyrdom at Rome, under Valerian. It is narrated that the order for his punishment was: "Bring out the grate of iron; and when it is redhot, on with liim, roast him, broil him, turn him; upon pain of our high displeasure, do every man his office. O ye tormentors!" The command was obeyed, and Law- • rence, after enduring frightful agonies with the greatest fortitude, expired. The Church of St. Lawrence, Jewry, in London, is dedicated to him, and has, or had, for a vane, a gridiron, that being popularly supposed to be the instrument of the martyr's torture. The parish Church of Appleby, the county town of Westmoreland, is also dedicated to St. Lawrence, and, doubtless, many other churches in the country.
Philip II., of Spain, having won a battle on the 10th of August, vowed to consecrate a church, a monastery, and a palace to this saint's honour. He did erect the Escurial, which is the largest palace in Europe, and consists of several courts and quadrangles, all disposed in the shape of a gridiron. The bars form several courts, and the royal family occupy the handle. Writes a modern traveller:—" Gridirons are met with in every part of the building; there are sculptured gridirons, iron gridirons, painted gridirons, marble gridirons, &c, &c. There are gridirons over the doors, gridirons in the yards, gridirons in the windows, gridirons in the galleries. Never was an instrument of martyrdom so multiplied, so honoured, so celebrated; and thus much for gridirons."
On the 10th of August, 1079, the foundation-stone of the Royal Observatory, for watching and recording the motions of celestial bodies, was laid in Greenwich Park. Flamstead was the first astronomer-royal.
On the 11th of August, the Dogdays are said to expire. But there has been both among ancients and moderns great variety of opinion respecting their commencement, and their limit. Really, the Dog-star
varies in the time of its rising, and is always later and later every year in all latitudes, so that in time, if the world only last long enough, this star (Sirius) may chance to bring with it frost and snow, instead of sultry days, canine madness, and sun-strokes. In the ancient calendar preserved by Bede, the 11th of July is mentioned as the first of the Dog-days, and in a calendar printed in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and prefixed to the Book of Common Prayer, they are said to extend from July fith to September 5th. This continued till the Restoration, when the Prayer Book was revised, and the Dog-days omitted; but from that time till the correction of the British calendar, the almanacs noted the 19th of July as the commencement of the Dog-days, and the 28th of August as their completion. They were again altered, and in 1819 settled as beginning with the 3rd of July, and ending with the 11th of August, in which order they still remain. The Dog-days have been commonly reckoned for about forty days; twenty before and twenty after the heliacal rising of Sirius; and almanac-makers have generally set down the Dog-days according to the varying time of the star's rising; and so they had at length fallen considerably after the hottest season of the year. And as by the Dog-days the ancients intended to express the time of the greatest heat in all the year, alteration was very necessary and proper; for in the time of the most ancient astronomers, the Dog-star rose heliacally during the month of July, when summer-heat is generally at its height; but the procession of the equinoxes has transferred this heliacal rising to a much later and cooler period.
The 15th of August is a high festival in the calendar of the Church of Rome, for it celebrates the " Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary;" that is, the pretended miraculous ascension of her body into heaven! This festival was first observed, says Mr. Brady, in the year 813; and no good Romanist should dare to disbelieve that the Assump