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river. See how it draws its tribute of the church a minute before he (Mr. O.) many waters from many a distant arrived. The good women who always land, many a mountain range, and knelt some time at the close of the sermany a wide moor-land, sending their vice thus did double duty that evenever-growing streams to swell the ing. noble river as it pursues its way down At Kensington parish church one of the valley, till all these various trib- the curates asked for the prayers of utaries converging into one great vol- the congregation for “a family crossume, it pours its glorious flood into ing the Atlantic, and other sick perthe bosom of the boundless ocean! sons." Such, my brethren, is the race of At Wolstanton in the Potteries there man." Here the preacher paused, and was a somewhat fussy verger called it was quite obvious to every one that Oakes. On one occasion, just at the he saw that his metaphor was just the time of year when it was doubtful wrong way up! So he coughed and whether lights would be wanted or no, hemmed, and changed the subject. and when they had not yet been

At Uffington, near Shrewsbury, dur- lighted for evening service, a stranger ing the incumbency of the Rev. J. who was a very smart young clergyHopkins, the choir and organist, hav. man was reading the lessons and bad ing been dissatisfied with some ar- some difficulty in seeing. He had on a rangement determined not to take pair of delicate lavender kid gloves. part in the service. So when the clerk, The verger, perceiving his difficulty, according to the usual custom of those went to the vestry, got two candles, days, gave out the hymn, there was lighted them, and walked to the dead silence. This lasted a little while, lectern, before which he stood sol. and then the clerk, unable to bear it, emnly holding the candles (without rose up and appealed to the congrega- candlesticks) in his hands. This was tion, saying most imploringly, “Them sufficiently trying to the congregation, as can sing do ye sing: it's a misery but suddenly some one rattled the latch to be a this'n" (Shropshire for "in this of the west door, when Oakes, feeling way'').

that it was absolutely necessary to go Canon B

voyage to

and see what was the matter, thrust Egypt in a Cunard steamer, and on the two candles into the poor young Sunday, in the Bay of Biscay, he un- clergyman's delicately gloved hands, dertook to hold a service. He read and left him! one of the sentences, and said "Dearly A clergyman in a church in Lanbeloved brethren, the Scripture moveth cashire gave out as his text, “The us in sundry places," when he had to devil as a roaring lion goeth about bolt and collapse. He told me · he

seeking whom he may devour," and thought this a record service for then added, "The Bishop of Manchesbrevity.

ter has announced his intention of At St. Saviour's, Hoxton, the daily visiting all the parishes in the diocese, prayer is held in the south chancel and hopes to visit this parish on such a aisle. The vicar, the Rev. John Oak- date.” ley, having to go out, left the evening A former young curate of Stoke beservice at 8.30 to a curate, but, return- ing very anxious to do things rubriing home at 8.50, thought he would cally, insisted on the ring being put on step in to the west end of the church the "fourth finger" at a wedding he and be in time for the end of the ser- took. The woman resisted and said, vice. When he went in, to his dismay “I would rather die than be married he saw a few women kneeling in the on my little finger.” The curate said, accustomed place but no clergyman. "But the rubric says so," whereupon Concluding that the curate had for- the deus ex machinâ appeared in the gotten, he rapidly passed up the north shape of the parish clerk, who stepped aisle to the vestry, slipped on a forward and said, “In these cases, sir, plice, went across to the south side and the thoomb counts as a digit.” read the service. He afterwards The rector of Thornhill, near Dewsfound that the curate had already bury, on one occasion could not get done so, but, being in a hurry, had the woman to say "obey” in the marsomewhat shortened it, and had left riage service, and he repeated the word

was on а

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with a strong stress on each syllable, church when she asked him if the saying, “You must say 0-bey." Where- vicar was a married man.

"No, upon the man interfered and said, ma'am,” he answered, "he's a chaly“Never mind: go on, parson. I'll mak' beate.” her say 'O' by-and-by.”

A verger, showing a large church to At the church of Strathfieldsaye, a stranger, pointed out another man where the Duke of Wellington was a and said, “That is the other verger.” regular attendant, a stranger was The gentleman said, “I did not know preaching, and the verger when he there were two of you,” and the verended came up the stairs, opened the ger replied, “Oh yes, sir; he werges up pulpit door a little way, slammed it to, one side of the church and I werges up and then opened it wide for the the other." preacher to go out. He asked in the vestry why he had shut the door

Two little stories connected with again while opening it, and the verger

Bishop Walsham How's episcopal life said, “We always do that, sir, to wake the duke."

may well conclude the anecdotes about Mr. Ibbetson, of St. Michael's, vergers. The bishop's dislike of ostenWalthamstow, was marrying a couple tation was well known. He caused when the ring was found to be too much amusement one occasion wben tight. A voice from behind exclaimed,

living in London by frustrating the de. "Suck your finger, you fool."

signs of a pompous verger. It had been Two or three stories about vergers

this man's custom to meet the Bishop naturally find a place here.

at the door of the Church, and precede Possibly

him up the centre aisle en route for the some of them are well known, but, even so, they will bear repetition.

vestry, thus making a little extra procession of his own. One day the

Bishop, after handing this verger his A gentleman going to see a ritualistic church in London was walking

bag, let him go on his way up the cen. into the chancel when an otficial

tre of the church, and himself slipped stepped forward and said, “You off up a side aisle, and gained the vesmustn't go in there.” “Why not?” said try unobserved, while the verger the gentleman. “I'm put here to stop marched up in a solemn procession of you," said the man. “Oh! I see," said

one! the gentleman, "you're what they call the rude screen, aren't you?" A clergyman in the diocese of Wake

The other story occurs in the notefield told me that when he first came

books and runs as follows: to the parish he found things in a very neglected state, and among other On my first visit to Almondbury to changes he introduced an early cele- preach, the verger came to me in the bration of the Holy Communion. An vestry, and said, “A've put a platform old clerk collected the offertory, and in t pulpit for ye; you'll excuse me, when he brought it up to the clergy- but a little man looks as if he was in a man he said, "There's eight on em, toob." (N.B.–To prevent undue inferbut two 'asn't paid.”

ences, I am five feet nine inches in A verger was showing a lady over a height.) The Sunday Magazine.

TO A CITY CROCUS.

[The following lines are designed for a singer of a certain age; "cuius," in fact, "octavum trepidavit ætas claudere Justrum.”]

Crocus! thou virgin flower that dost,

When wanton winds of March are out,
Upon the town's astonied crust

Habitually deign to sprout:-
Observing thee with punctual eye,

Rathe herb, amid thine elfin ring,
The minor bard is moved to cry

“Behold, the harbinger of Spring!"

They, too, the mass, whose common feet

Trail wingless through the budding park,
Find in thy beauty, frail and fleet,

A ready subject for remark.

Oblivious of her infant charge

Enthralled with ducklings on the mere,
Maria, by the flowery marge,

Invokes her absent bombardier.

The patriot, painting all the air

A lurid khaki, learns of thee
That this is not the only wear

Allowed to Nature's pageantry.

Awhile the weary philo-Boer

Forgets his bosom's urgent smart;
Right to its little-english core

Thy healing gladness haunts his heart.

For me, who close my fortieth year,

Thy petals painfully recall
Those early fancies which the seer

Alluded to in “Locksley Hall.”

In Spring, said he, an ampler red

Emerges on the robin's chest;
In Spring some other bird, he said,

Procures himself a change of crest.

Just then, it seems, a braver bloom

Distinguishes the polished dove;
And adolescent cheeks resume

The intermitted blush of love.

But not for me those vernal tints

That Nature's youth contrives to don;
Rather the amorous season hints
Of yet another lustre gone.

Ouen Seaman. The Saturday Review.

JOHN ENGLAND'S OUTGOING.

V.

A DISINHERISON.

was

The expression of Jasper England as, standing in the doorway, he surprised his son in the act of proposing marriage to Alce Steptoe, was one of such overindignation that a girl who was not poor in spirit could not but feel cruelly outraged.

With a whitening face Alce crossed the room, and though Jasper bulked large in the doorway, and did not move to allow of her exit, she passed him.

When in the corridor she observed that John had followed her, and with an imperious gesture signified her de. sire that he would let her proceed on her way alone. He obeyed her sorrowfully, and she went in search of her cousin.

Some moments later Parson speeding parting guests. As both his father and his brother were at Bucklands this thing was beyond all use, and he wore a troubled look. It was noticed by Penelope, and, as he helped her into her saddle, she contrived to say:

“There has been, I fear, a quarrel. I wish you will keep silence concerning this thing."

"Your wishing it shall make me do so, Penelope," Parson answered, handsomely, and watched the riders out of sight.

Meanwhile John and his father were trying conclusions.

“How, sir, all huff?” So Jasper England opened up conversation with his son, who, having been virtually told by Alce to return whence he came, had gone back to the parlor, and had taken up his stand at a window with expression which the words just em

ployed by his father very accurately described.

“I believe, sir, my being all bluster," John answered, in a somewhat personal vein, “would very little mend matters."

“You are, sir, a jackanapes!" his father exclaimed. “I desire you will show me a little of that respect which brings you to your knees before young misses."

John was at no loss for an answer.

"I hope, sir," he said, “I know better than in my perpendicular to ask a young lady to be my wife.”

Jasper snorted. He had in his day fallen at the feet of a young lady under conditions similar to those obtaining in his son's case, and there was nothing either in the spirit or the wording of John's speech which took him aback. He snorted merely because it incensed him to reflect that this very proper sentiment was uttered in connection with Alce Steptoe.

"I wish, sir," he said, angrily, “you knew better than to ask to marry with beggary."

John, whose face contracted as from a sharp cut, left this speech swered, and a silence set in. Jasper broke it.

"Hey, Jack-what!” he said. “Is Penelope Steptoe's person so deformed that her fortune is to be despised ?"

“Penelope's person is most beautiful, sir," John answered, quietly; "but my affections are not fixed on it, and never will be fixed upon a fortune."

“Then, sir, I have done with you. I disinherit you. You may go where you will for me. The world's wide."

There was a tremor in Jasper's voice which his son knew. He had quailed before it in childhood, and in manhood he knew the import of it too well to meet it with counter-comment.

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He went from the room and took the "An' you take not Bucklands, Pardirection which Alce had taken. In the son, there are others will take it." garden, within a few paces from the "My brothers will not," Parson prohouse, he came upon his brother. He tested. put his hand on his shoulder.

“Bate George,"John said, drily. “What has had place, John?” Parson George, who, it has been seen, could asked.

take a bone from a dog, was a person “My disinherison. You are heir to to whom nothing came amiss, and who Bucklands."

could not reasonably be expected to re"Can you be serious, John ?"

fuse to enter into the inheritance of John nodded a very serious affirma- his family. tive.

Parson was silent. John smiled, and Parson's face expressed the deepest said: consternation. His brother looked at “Heart, brother, I care not this fingerit, then broke into a loud laugh.

snap who becomes heir of Bucklands, “Why, John, merry ?” Parson but I am galled to be thrust from my asked.

father's home because I have too much “Because, Parson, you are so worldly honesty to ask one lady in marriage wise."

while my heart is engaged to another. An eulogium in the form of an irony Well, well, least said is soonest mended, was a subtlety past Parson's immediate and all my leave-taking shall be from comprehension; for the rest his you, Parson." thoughts were occupied with his “How, John, you do not purpose to brother, and not with himself.

leave Bucklands without baggage, do “This cannot be, John," he said, re- you?” Parson exclaimed. verting to the disinherison. "You "I do so, indeed,” was answered. “I have angered our father, but in time he have in my purse what will buy me all will come about."

I need on my journey, and, at the end It was characteristic of Parson that, on't-" while he had never known his father He paused, brought to a standstill by to illustrate the mental process in the sharp distress expressed in his . Georgian days called coming about, it

brother's face. was impossible to him to conceive of

"Come, Parson, heard you never of a total breaking off of relations be- Yorkshiremen making their fortune in tween father and son.

London?” he said, gaily. "I tell you, Parson,” John exclaimed, Parson's face brightened. He had with something of impatience at this certainly heard of this thing. Then he remarkable blindness in his brother,

said: “my father has done with me, and you

“How much have you in your purse, are heir to Bucklands."

John?” "That, brother, I am not, and I wish "A hundred pound more or less, Paryou will not say I am," Parson said, son," John answered, mysteriously. with some heat; adding, as he flushed Parson was not at all astute, but be deeply, “His name is thief who takes rightly gauged the word "less" to exwhat belongs to another, which I have press here more exactly the state of never done, John, and will never do." affairs than the word "more." He

John's face worked. His expulsion forthwith took his own purse from his from his home was not made easier to pocket. It was, like himself, of very bear that Parson wrung his heart at slim proportions. Parson was no spendgoing. He forced a laugh, and said: thrift, but was a lavish almoner. He

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