bearer's father: Fitz-Osborne, FitzStephen, Fitz-Patrick, Fitz-Gerald. Others there were that denoted the quality or occupation of the bearer: as Basset, "the fat;" Giffard, "the liberal;" Howard, "the high warder;" Boteler, "the grand butler;" with others of the like sort.

In course of time the use of surnames was adopted by the other classes, who added to their Christian names the titles of their crafts as Smith, Baker, Fowler, Turner, &c. ;-or the names of their fathers: as Thompson, "the son of Thomas;" Dickson, "the son of Dick;" Lawson, "the son of Lawrence;" Hodgson," the son of Roger;" Gibson, "the son of Gilbert," &c. ;-or the qualities of

Brown,"

the body as Long, Grey,
:
White, Humble, Young, Slender, &c.

Of the surnames which are in use in our days, many proceed from the causes above-mentioned, as well as from others, which it would be endless to enumerate.

We can now no more determine from the name the rank of him who bears it. They whose fathers wielded the lance or battle-axe, now guide the plough, or strike the anvil. And the sons of those bold yeomen who drew the bow, or tilled the ground, now make laws for their fathers' land. Has the reader received the new name mentioned Revelation ii. 17? May it never be blotted out of the book of life! (Rev. iii. 5.)

UPON the stately vessel's side
Stood the dark Chief at set of sun;
He view'd the rolling waters wide,
And felt his life again begun;
For all his world before had been
The round expanse of sylvan green.
Silent he watch'd the lord of day

Sink down into the boundless sea;
He thought of landscapes far away,

And the tall game that gambol'd free, Where great Zambesi rolls his floods By reed-roof'd huts and tangled woods.

Silent he stood; for speech was lost, When thoughts of new and wondrous things

Came crowding in tumultuous host,

Like clouds of birds with clustering

And lovely isles, like gems of green,
Arose, Leeambye's waves between.
But now on one wide world of wave
He rode in that mysterious car,

And whither bound ?-he knew not, save That some strange land was found afar,

Whence white men came with beads and

guns,

And taught or sold his country's sons.

The pleasant past, by memory read,

The wondrous present, half unknown, The future, dark before him spread, O'erwhelm'd, till reason left her throne :

Down from the stately vessel's side Bounding he plunged, and sank, and died.

O sable Chief! thy mournful end

Bearer of solemn thought shall be: Like thee, our wondering course we wend To lands unknown, o'er life's broad

sea;

Yet fail we not, nor faint before,
For Faith beholds a glorious shore.
C. L. F.

TIME! on thy silent, ceaseless wing,
What mighty changes dost thou bring!
How much in one brief year
Does reminiscent thought supply,
To glad the heart, or dim the eye
With memory's "heart-shed tear!"

Another year of blessings gone,
With overflowing heart I own:

The grace so long received
But swells the debt of contrite love;
For still I live that Love to prove

My sins so oft have grieved.

O Thou who hast with goodness crown'd The year, and made all grace abound, My future destiny

I trust to Thy unchanging word:
"My times are in Thy hand, O Lord;"
And "all my springs in Thee."

Should'st Thou, in wisdom, see it best
To mar my short-lived earthly rest,

And bruise me with Thy rod;
Give me whate'er Thou tak'st away-
The power in filial faith to say,

"Thou art my Father-God!"

If lonely Sabbaths Thou shouldst send,
Nor suffer me again to wend

The loved, accustom'd way;

Help me, when for Thy courts I weep, "Alone, yet not alone,' to keep

Each holy, honour'd day.

But should it be Thy gracious will
My service to accept, and still

My wonted sphere assign,
Within Thy church, and for Thy praise;
Thine be my powers, and added days,
All, and for ever, Thine!

Or should Thy love's supreme decree,
In sovereign wisdom, summon me
This year to droop and die;
Let death the blest transition prove
From earth to worlds of light and love,
And immortality.

Or, ere my earthly course shall end,
Should I in lonely sorrow bend

O'er life's last solace gone;
Help me, my Comforter and Stay,
Ev'n in this more than death to say,
"Thy will, not mine, be done."

Thrice-happy land, where griefs and tears,
And sin and death, and changing years,
Are all alike unknown;

Whose music is the Saviour's name;
Its light, the glory of the Lamb,

For ever on the throne !

St. Ives, Cornwall. J. SMEDLEY.

EXTRACTS FROM HOME-MISSION

ARY

are

CORRESPONDENCE. -We endeavouring to prosecute our arduous labours on these islands in the oldfashioned spirit of primitive Methodism. We have to endure many toils, and to encounter frequent perils, in reaching our different preaching-places; but we are often rewarded with attentive and weeping congregations. Our offer of a "present, free, and full salvation" is issuing in the conversion of sinners. In a prayer-meeting a short time since I witnessed the conversion of twelve souls. To God be all the glory.-The intellectual and moral state of the people of these islands has been greatly improved by the labours of the Wesleyan Ministers. There has been a large circulation of religious publications. These have been diligently read; and, with the Divine blessing, they will, doubtless,

An

yield a harvest of spiritual good. intelligent gentleman (not a Wesleyan) assures me that the value of Methodism to these islands can never be fully estimated. "I have watched your operations for thirty years," he says; "and testify to the great good which has been accomplished." Could the supporters of the Home-Mission Fund, from whom we derive our principal support, have an adequate impression of the importance of the Mission to these islands, they would double the amount of their contributions. The work of God is, at present, retarded by the want of more Ministers. Local Preachers are valuable helpers; but they are few in number. I must add, that the results of our labours would be more manifest, were it not for the continued emigration from our shores, by which we lose some of our most useful members.-There has

Our

been a

lessed revival in the Walls Circuit, of which you will hear from the Minister now occupying that station.-Rev. Robert Haworth, Lerwick, Zetland Islands, November 15th, 1858.

Surely, if perilous journeyings by sea and by land, if exposure to the fickle and boisterous weather of these northern latitudes, if great privations, give a Missionary character to a Minister's duty, then is ours Missionary labour.

There are islands which topographically belong to this Circuit almost without the care of any Minister of the Gospel:

For several years the Societies in this wide Circuit had been, to say the best, stationary. There were scarcely any youthful members; fears were excited for the future; and earnest prayer was offered for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. This was not done in vain. In every Society in the Circuit we have now an interesting and hopeful accession of young people.

The Walls Society consisted, for the most part, of persons in the decline of life; and it was often painfully asked, "What is to become of the flock in which there are no lambs ?" But God has remembered us. More than forty young people have given evidence of a saving work on their hearts, and have been enrolled in our classes. New life is infused in our midst, and we are favoured with "times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord."

At Aithe a new chapel has been recently erected, and showers of blessing are resting upon the locality. During the last six months twenty young persons have been received into the Society. The chapel has thus been consecrated by the presence and salvation of God.

The same may be said of Wester Skeld, where a neat and comfortable chapel has just been built. A short time since we had not one young person among our members; but recently several have joined us, whose changed and consistent behaviour gives proof that they have "passed from death unto life."Similar blessings have been experienced at Gratting and Sandress.

But I must call attention to the inadequacy of the present ministerial agency to meet the necessities of the population in these islands. The ground occupied by us cannot be properly worked by one Minister, who has thirteen chapels and preaching-places under his care; in a country where the weather and the want of roads make travelling always difficult and frequently perilous. Is it not impolitic to leave one man to toil over so wide a field of labour, that he is tempted to account his exertions comparatively lost?

souls, in which there is no resident Minister, and which, owing to the difficulty of reaching it, through heavy seas, and a tidal current which runs ten miles an hour, can seldom receive a visit from one another, distant twenty-four miles, with about the same population, and almost altogether without ministerial help of any kind. Indeed, the people here

are sometimes for four or five months without any intercourse even with their nearest neighbours.

Surely the friends of our Home Missions will practically remember the religious necessities of these northern islanders, whose pecuniary resources are so small, that they cannot possibly sustain that ministry which, nevertheless, they highly prize.-Rev. Thomas Wilde, Walls, Zetland Islands, November 23d, 1858.

I am convinced that I am in my right path, and bless God that I have been appointed to commence my public duties in such a field of labour. God has blessed my endeavours. We have had additions to our Society, and the congregations increase weekly.-I find much apathy and wickedness here, and great Sabbathbreaking. I went out on my first Sabbath afternoon, inviting the people to Divine service in our chapel. I found two companies of young men, from fourteen to twenty-four years of age, playing at cricket in a field close to the town. One company were playing for money, and a party of older men were observing and enjoying the game. On my speaking to them about the sanctity of the Lord's day, they cried out, "Smash his head!" &c. I told them that they might please themselves about that; but, as I was God's servant, sent to reprove their sin, I would be heard; and, stepping between the wickets, I prevented their playing. Having also rebuked the by-standers for countenancing such proceedings, I read from my Bible the commandment to keep holy the Sabbath-day. Having gained their ear, and that of the cricketers, I spoke to them on death, judgment, and eternity, exhorting threin at once to give up their sins, and to serve God. The wickets were pulled up, and

some promised to attend the chapel; which promise was partially kept.I have begun to visit a new place, a village, distant about three miles, which sends more prisoners to the county-jail than any in the district, and for which the only place of worship is a neighbouring church. The prospect here is encouraging. We have preaching every Sunday evening, and occasionally on week-days. About sixty attend on the Sunday, and forty on the week-days. I

have commenced a class here. Six persons have joined, and others are beginning to consider their ways. A Sundayschool has been opened, as there is nothing of the kind in or near the village. -In some places there is much clerical opposition. Rev. Henry Banks, Leominster, November, 1858.

On my arrival here, I made it my first business to visit the barracks, which are about to be enlarged so as to contain a thousand men. I found most of the soldiers of the company stationed here Roman Catholics, the regiment being one of Irish militia. On applying to one of the officers, I obtained the names of the Protestants, and was thus enabled to become acquainted with them. I gave them tracts, and conversed with them separately. I prevailed on them to attend our chapel; and they did so regularly till removed to Weymouth, when I wrote to the Rev. Joseph Earnshaw, the Superintendent Minister, requesting for them the favour of his pastoral attention. I had frequent opportunities of holding religious conversation with them; and have good reason to believe that two of them are under religious concern. When the present company arrived, I visited them, and found very few Protestants. I tried my former plans, but at first seemed to make little impression. Having earnestly requested their attendance at our worship, I had at length the satisfaction of seeing them all present at morning service. I visit the barracks twice a week.

I spend every afternoon, except Saturday and Sunday, in going from house to house. I distribute tracts, and, whenever there is opportunity, read the Scriptures, and converse and pray with the people; among whom I find many pharisaic sinners. My visits to the sick have been blessed, particularly to a man apparently in a dying state. I shall commence an additional service in a room near the prison next week. The congregations in the chapel-which is the centre of operations are good, and on the Sunday evenings often crowded. We are holding special prayer-meetings this week. These

are well attended, and souls have begun to cry for mercy. I am happy in my work, and find profit in it.-Rev. John Mackintosh, Isle of Portland, November, 1858.

EVENING SERVICE AT ST. PAUL'S. That the following article appeared a month ago in the "leading journal," merits note in this section of the Wes

leyan-Methodist Magazine. Whether it be taken as guiding public opinion, or as reflecting it, the tone of sentiment is not a little remarkable.

IT may be almost said that St. Paul's Cathedral was opened yesterday. It is quite true that it has been built two centuries; but in the sense in which anything is called new till it is used, this grand, overpowering, and blackened pile may still be called the "new Cathedral of St. Paul's." This is the principle which we apply when we speak of any article of dress designed for wear: it may lie in our drawer for months; but it enjoys the privilege of novelty till we wear it. The outside of St. Paul's has been used: there has been no waste there. Anybody, for two centuries, who has walked up Ludgate-Hill, or crossed the river, or stood on any of the surrounding hills of London, has enjoyed the sight of St. Paul's, with that noble, imperial dome, of matchless curve, proclaiming the grandeur of a Western Constantinople and Cæsarean city, and crowning with its superb grace the vast accumulation of buildings beneath it,the tiled, and slated, and warehoused, and towered, and pillared, and pinnacled region of the metropolis. The exterior of St. Paul's, then, has fully answered its purpose; but has the interior done this? No one who had walked round St. Paul's would ever imagine, after admiring this stupendous mass of architecture, and vainly endeavouring to master its full size, how small a part and mere corner of it was used. He enters by the doorway of the northern transept, and on standing still and drawing in his breath for half a minute, can just hear a little faint tinkling going on at the extremity of some apparently remote arm of the building. What is the sound, and where does it come from? Does it come from some distant subterranean vault, or is it a voice at the top of the dome performing some incantation, or, in compliance with some old daily, time-honoured ceremony, uttering a mystical truth, or moral, or spiritual maxim, which is supposed to be heard by all the inhabitants of the metropolis, as

the Mohammedan Mufti speaks to a whole city from the top of the highest pinnacle of his mosque? No, it is the daily choral service of the Cathedral going on in the choir; and by the time you have walked over half of this grandlycovered space you actually can hear about half-a-dozen boys' with two or three men's voices. This is all the use, then, to which the interior of St. Paul's has been put all the ordinary use. There have been extraordinary occasions on which its vast room and grandeur have been turned to account,--such as the funerals of Nelson and Wellington. King George III., too, returned thanks in St. Paul's, after his recovery from his first great calamity. These grand ceremonials pass through the dark part of the interior of St. Paul's like meteors through the gloom. On any ordinary day that you enter the Cathedral, you certainly never cease to admire the wonderful loftiness of the whole design, which has the stamp of greatness upon it, and overpowers you, not by a cumbrous and ponderous, but by a majestic, weight, which descends slowly upon the gazer's mind: there is the grand Miltonic rhythm in that combination of massive piers, arches, and dome, and perfection of ornament, a superb structural harmony, which falls upon the eye as a grand march in music does upon the ear, or as the magnificent roll of a speech in "Paradise Lost." But it must be added that, with all this grandeur, a damp comes over your very soul as you enter St. Paul's-not a physical, but a moral damp: all is cold and sepulchral sublimity, like some marble city of the dead. The reason is, that the building has not been used: it wants the illumination, the cheering tone and consolatory power, which worship can alone give to a place of worship. This sublimity wants humanizing-wants Christianizing. Has one single soul been ever converted in St. Paul's ? * We will not say there has not been; for many eloquent sermons have, doubtless, been preached within those walls,-sermons of able scholars, poets, historians, divines. But the look of the place does not go in that direction; it does not speak of the conversion of sinners; it wants what some theologians call "savour." What sinner would dare to groan within that great religious palace ?* It would be a crime and misdemeanour: bedels would look unutterable things, and gilded maces would soon remind the criminal where he was. Even a sigh would hardly be allow

able. "Nothing free and easy here, Sir, if you please: we allow nobody to repent here." That would, indeed, be as presumptuous as one of the commonalty speaking to a King, or trying to chat with a Judge on the bench. The sort of religion which alone has been permissible within the marble dignity of those walls has been that peculiar religion which divines who study accuracy of definition denominate "grave piety.' What this exactly means, we do not undertake to say; but, as we believe all Bishops, Deans, Archdeacons, Chancellors, and Canons have been ex officio possessed of it for several centuries, it is not, we presume, anything striking. St. Paul's, then, wants dethroning, not from its real, but from its artificial, dignity—that cold stiffness which the very unnatural condition of not being used has imparted to it

just as some great "don," whose idea of dignity consists in measured sentences and studied walk, would have even his dignity greatly improved by the introduction of a little of the ease and familiarity of nature.

The same may be said of all our Cathedrals. It is a charge against us Protestants, which we must in candour admit, that we have not hitherto made anything like use of our Cathedrals. Their vast cold naves have heard for three centuries no steps but those of curious strangers walking up and down them half an hour, and looking at the painted windows and monuments. Once in three or four years a tempest of fiddles frightens the place out of its propriety, and vexes the calm sepulchral atmosphere. This takes place at the triennial or quadrennial music-meetings; but, with the exception of these periodical levities, the naves of our Cathedrals are seats of the dead: the monuments have them all to themselves, and no vulgar hodiernal life intrudes. Once at the beginning of each reign, the nave of Westminster Abbey is filled with the insignia of royalty; King Edward's chair is brought out; ranks of Peers and Peeresses fill temporary galleries; Heralds in their tabards, and Canons in copes, throw the splendour of antiquity upon the scene; there is a gorgeous assemblage of dresses of all colours and the finest material the world can produce; banners wave, cannons roar, and a new Monarch is consecrated to reign over the British empire. The splendid crowd then vanishes, the temporary galleries are pulled down, and for the rest of the reign the nave of