whose hope of restoration to health has been completely taken away.

The Church Sunday School Hymn-book, with School Liturgy. Church of England Sunday School Institute.

A COLLECTION of 364 hymns specially selected by a committee of the Sunday School Institute for use in Sunday schools and children's services. The selection is eminently catholic, and it will probably be a matter of astonishment to many persons to find how rich English hymnody is in verses really suited for children. It is, we think, a matter for regret that the editors should have made a concession to what is rather sectarian ignorance or bigotry than mere weakness, by giving as an alternative to the first lines of Mr. BaringGould's "Onward, Christian soldiers," the following emasculation of the well-known words :

"Onward, Christian soldiers,

Marching as to war,

Looking unto Jesus,

Who is gone before."

Such an "emendation seems to be little better than the Yankee paraphrase of the same words,

"With the cross of Jesus

Left behind the door."

People who cannot accept the hymn as it stands would do well to omit it rather than to mutilate the beautiful and spirited words; and as the committee have given no alternative of Lyte's

"Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes,"

we fail to see why they should have sanctioned a departure from the text in this case.

Churchman's Shilling Dapezing

& FAMILY TREASURY,

MARLINGTON; OR, LIFE'S AIM.

BY LOUISA THOMPSON.

CHAPTER IV.

"Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touched it ?
Ha' you marked but the fall o' the snow,
Before the soil hath smutched it?"

BEN JONSON.

It was the day of the large dinner party at Evelyn Hall; everything and everybody was in confusion. Mrs. Clayton, the

housekeeper, was rather apt to delay things to the last, much to the discomfiture of the lower household, and especially to the man who had to brighten up all the old silver service, which had been in the family a great number of years; the whole made its appearance only two or three times during the season.

"I hope that everything will go right," said Mr. Evelyn. "Colonel Dashwood is so very particular. I shall be extremely annoyed if there are any mistakes."

"Any one would imagine, Arthur, that we had not given a dinner party since we came here," said Mrs. Evelyn. "Why should you fear that anything will be wrong?"

"Because it always does when you particularly wish to have things quite comme il faut. A great many of our guests have not been here before."

"Only two, Arthur-at least two families, the Mackenzies and the Dashwoods."

"I should not like Dashwood to find that wherever he goes the table is better appointed."

"Or you would like yours to be considered the best, eh?" said his wife slily. "I like the Continental fashion," pursued she; "that is my idea of society."

"Do your ideas emanate from that charming week we had at Coblentz ?"

"No, no; indeed, I was glad to leave there; but I like the general principle for people who have more friends than means; there would be less thoughts of 'keeping up appearances,' consisting in giving crushing parties, and a greater crush to supper. How far superior were those evenings in Paris when the Belmontes issued invitations for seven weeks! at home every Wednesday. What music! what delightful literary society! the coterie not broken up for supper. Ah! we in England sacrifice the love around the fireside circle. What for? To make an appearance to a set of acquaintances (not friends) who care little about you."

The arrival of the postbag put an end to the conversation.

"A letter from my dear boy," cried Mr. Evelyn, selecting one from amongst several others.

"I expected that we should have one to-day," replied his wife; "I hope that he has been careful of himself."

"We shall see," said the father, reading the letter.

"MY DEAREST FATHER, did you receive my last with the account of our jolly day at the island? Have you seen your new vicar yet? and is his name Mackenzie? Such a curious thing, there is a boy here of that name; I am sure that it must be his son―a very nice fellow. I cannot say for what reason I like him, or why the others do, yet there is something about his ways that is irresistible. He would never tell an untruth, not even to save his life scarcely, or play the sneak for any amount. Some of us determined that we would tease him and not like him, but we soon discovered that it would not do. While we supposed ourselves triumphant, he was unconsciously twirling us round his little finger. Give my love to mamma, Percival, and little Ellen; tell the latter, with a kiss, that I shall expect to see her a great woman at the holidays. Believe me, my dearest father, your loving son,

"FREDERICK MARGRAVE EVELYN." "P.S.-Please send me some money when you write, for I

am very short,"

"I was just thinking it a remarkable circumstance that he should have written without asking for money," said Mr. Evelyn as he concluded. "The rascal only wrote for that, but put it in a postscript, as if it had but just entered his head."

"Well, here is my darling," said he as Nelly entered the room. "Brother Fred sends you his love and a kiss, and wants to know if you are growing into a woman."

"I wish I were," answered the child.

Why, Nelly?" inquired her mamma.

"Because I should go where you do, and dress in fine things, like yours; and what is best of all, I should do as I like."

"What things for which to desire to grow up, Nelly!" said Mrs. Evelyn. "I hope that some day you will have a better motive."

"Let her have her own little sayings, Augusta. I love to hear her talk. Nelly, you shall have fine things to-day-pretty white frock and blue ribbons."

"Do you really mean that she is to come in, Arthur? She ought to be going to bed at the time we shall be having dinner, and think how late it will be before dessert."

"Well, then, let her come in before we leave for the diningroom," persisted Mr. Evelyn; "it will serve as a break from that formal half-hour before dinner, when you are all staring at each other-you ladies, I mean,-and wondering whether Mrs. Dashwood's diamonds are false, or if her husband wears a wig."

"Arthur, how can you?" said his wife, with a warning glance towards their little girl.

"She did not understand," replied the father. "Why is your hair so rough, Nelly?"

Ellen coloured and twisted her little foot round the pattern of the carpet, but did not answer.

"Tell us, like a good girl," said Mrs. Evelyn. "What have you been doing? I am sure nurse would not send you down such a figure."

"Nelly, you are to go up stairs directly," said Percy, entering the room.

"What has she been doing?" asked his father.

"Nurse missed her for some time," replied Percy, smiling, "and at last she discovered her in mamma's room standing before the glass, with a new head-dress on, dancing and bowing to herself."

Mr. Evelyn burst out laughing, but his wife reproved Ellen, though she could with difficulty restrain a smile. "I have often told you not to touch my things; perhaps you have injured my flowers?"

"I dare say nurse has," said Ellen, quickly, "because she snatched it off my head, and that made my hair rough."

"Because you ran away, I suppose," said Mr. Evelyn. "You may come into the room this evening, Percy," added he. "Do you wish it, papa?"

"Do you not care about it, dear?" asked his mother. "I would rather not," replied the boy.

"I know," said Ellen; "he wants to go down and talk with Miss Mackenzie, as he did the other day. They sat under the trees all the time, and never had a bit of fun."

"We were very happy, though," replied her brother.

"Then I beg that you will make yourself happy at home," replied his father sternly, "and not go after new faces; and remember," concluded he as he left the room, "that you make your appearance with your sister in the drawing-room."

"I am sorry, darling," said Mrs. Evelyn, kissing her boy, "that you have to come in, since you do not wish it." "Mr. Mackenzie asked me there for the afternoon." "Why did you not tell your papa?"

"Because he looked angry, and I could not."

"Arthur," cried Mrs. Evelyn, as her husband passed the door, "Percival tells me that he was asked to the vicarage."

'Well, why did he not say so to me? he has a tongue in his head. He cannot go, for you made such a fuss, and lectured me for about an hour and a half for my injustice, as you were pleased to term it, when I said that only Ellen need come in, so I consented to Percival's accompanying her; and now you wish to change again, but I will not have it."

This was Mr. Evelyn's revenge on his wife, for she had, as he called it, "given him a lecture" on making such a difference between the children, and on the wrong side. She had gained her point, so her husband thought that now this would be a warning to her to let him have his own way.

"You see you must stay, Percy," said his mother, " so I think that you had better go and tell your young friend that you cannot spend the afternoon with her."

"Mamma, let her come here," said Nelly.

"No, indeed, that could never be; it is very well to have the