that though the bearer was not a Christian, and not entitled there. fore, to those commendatory letters which were uniformly given by the bishop of every city to such members of his flock as visited foreign countries, yet that as a friend and relative of Christians, and as not indisposed, at least not violently opposed, to their principles, he was recommended to the prayers and good offices of the bishop in whose diocese he was about to dwell. 'Perhaps,' it was added, when this youth discerns what unity and affection there is between the most distant members of the Christian commonwealth-how they make up one family--how their participation in one holy communion renders them a single body throughout the world, he may discern that this is the true supply of that want of our nature which none are more likely to estimate than strangers in a foreign country.'"

Our lack of space forbids us to introduce more of this pleasing and valuable little book, which we most cordially recommend to the perusal of our readers.

Correspondence.

To the Editor of the Christian Magazine.

SIR, It is with much pleasure that I lately read in your Magazine, an article which went to show the obli gation which all clergymen are under to have the Offertory "whenever the Communion Service is read in church." Since that time I have been much pleased with the Bishop of London's pastoral letter to his clergy, advising them to adopt this proper mode of collecting alms in church, in behalf of the Colonial Bishop's Fund. It would appear, however, from some very absurd and wicked remarks which have been made in some of the newspapers of the day, that his lordship's letter has excited the wrath of sundry persons, who, by their observations, show how entirely ignorant they are of the rules of the Church, to which they profess to belong. I take the liberty of writing this letter to you, in the hope, that if inserted, it may show some of your readers the kind of persons who are making so great an outcry against the revival of some

of those good old practices of our forefathers, which, for the last few years, have been so sadly discontinued in our churches. Depend upon it, sir, that if the case was fairly enquired into, it would be found that scribblers in newspapers, and ignorant persons, such as you describe in the "Candid Parishioner," are those who, at the present time, are making so much disturbance in the country, and endeavouring, by all means in their power, to prevent the Church shining forth in that beauty of holiness, which she must inevitably do, if once she return to those practices which by her rules she is bound to adopt.

I remain, sir.

Your obedient servant,

A FRIEND TO THE OLD PATHS. P.S. I see by the papers, that the collections made under the Bishop's directions, have already produced nearly £8,000. What will the "Expediency" advocates say to this? Really, the Offertory appears likely to be as productive as Charity Sermons.

To the Editor of the Christian Magazine.

SIR,- Will you allow me to suggest, that to several of your subscribers, a little more matter, instead of the wood-cuts, would be acceptable. I suppose that your publishers could not afford to give more pages, but perhaps might be able to print some of the contents, such as the extracts, reviews, and correspondence, in a smaller type by this means we should have more reading, and the publishers suffer no loss, as the saving in the cost of the wood-cuts would meet the additional expence.

I am,
sir,

Your obedient servant,

A CONSTANT READER.

We are much obliged by the above hint, and will make trial of it, trusting that it may meet with the general approval of our subscribers.-Ed.

THE OLD CHURCH CLOCK.

(Continued from page 189.)

CHAPTER II.

"Why rather, sleep! liest thou in smoky crib,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And lull'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of lofty state,

And lull'd with sounds of softest melody?"

SHAKSPERE.

"My early days," the old man continued,

"were, as

all the rest have been, a mixture of happiness and troubles. I believe the troubles were, at the time, rather the more abundant part, though, in looking back on my past days I remember the bright spots more distinctly than the dark just as, in youth, I have stood on Yewdale cragg, and distinctly seen the distant top of Snafell in the Isle of Man, because a sunbeam happened to fall on it, while all was dark and indistinct around it. My father was a little Statesman; by which, as you know, is not meant, in Cumberland, any thing like Lord John Russell, as such a term would be understood in Manchester; for he never, I believe, read a newspaper in his life; nay, probably never saw one, unless it might be upon Lady le Fleming's hall table, when he went, as he did, once a year, to Rydal, to pay her his boon rent, as lady of the manor. A statesman, in Cumberland, is the owner of a little land; and as proud he is of his little holding, as Sir Robert Peel can be (and proud indeed he may be!) of governing the state. How long we had lived upon this little estate, I cannot tell, nor, 1 suppose, any body else. There were no title deeds in existence ; nor, I believe, many wills, if any. When the father

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died, the son quietly buried him in Hawkshead church yard, and then as quietly stepped into his shoes, wore out his old coats (if they could be worn out) and every thing went on just as before. My father was the most silent man I ever met with in my life. He never spoke unless he had something to say, and that seemed to be only once or twice in the course of the day. He was always the first up in the morning, and the last in bed at night, and worked like a slave in his farm from sunrise to sunset. Of course I could not understand his character then, but I have often tried to understand it since he was taken away, and I became capable of reflection. He never shewed me much kindness, but was never harsh, though always firm. I had great respect for him, because I saw my neighbours had; and I believe it is true, generally, that children learn to value their parents a good deal by the way in which they see them treated by indifferent persons. All my life I have always treated parents with respect in the presence of their children."

"Thank you, my good friend," interrupted I, “for that hint; I will put that down in my memorandum book."

As you please," said he, smiling, "it will at least do no harm there; nor, I believe, would it do any, if you were to put it into practice! But to go on with my long story. My mother,—sir, I do not know how I shall get on now. I feel a rising in my throat at the recollection of her very name; and though she has been dead and gone many a long year, yet every thing that she said, and every thing that she did—her quiet smile-her linseywoolsey petticoat-her silver shoe-buckles-her smooth gray hair turned back in a roll over her calm forehead— her soft voice, making the broad Cumberland dialect sweeter, even to the ear of a stranger, than the richest music her patience in pain - her unchanging kindness to me in all my wayward moods and fits of passion her regularity in all her devotions, public and private, come at this moment as fresh into my mind, as if she were sitting now in the corner of my little dwelling in Salford, instead of sleeping as she has

done for many a long year, quietly and peaceably in the south-east corner of Hawkshead church yard. There is no stone over her grave; but I could find it blind-fold even now, though it is many a day since I have stood beside it and it concerns no one else to know where it is but myself. I sometimes wish to be buried beside her -but what does it signify? we could not know each other in the grave-we shall know each other, with joy shall meet again hereafter!" There was a passionate earnestness in the old man's manner as he uttered these last words, which differed strongly from the general quiet tone of his narrative. I kept silence when he paused, out of respect for his feelings, and waited for the return of his wonted calmness, which he was not long in regaining.

"My mother taught me to read almost as soon as I could speak. The book she used for that purpose was the Testament. It was almost the only book in the house, except the Whole Duty of Man, and four or five black letter volumes, tinged with smoke from having laid for ages in the chimney corner, the contents of which not the oldest man in all Yewdale even pretended to understand. By the time I was five years old, being a strong, hale boy, my father tried to make me useful about the farm, in feeding the cows, or looking after the sheep; but it would not do. I had hardly strength for the former task; and as to looking after the sheep, the temptation of joining two or three similar shepherds in an expedition of bird-nesting or nut-gathering, was always too strong to be resisted. Proving thus unequal to these important duties, my father determined to find me one which required (in public opinion at that time,) abilities of a narrower range. I heard him say one night to my mother, after I had gone to my snug roost in the loft, where I generally slept like a top,-I think there is nothing for it but to make this lad a scholar-may be a parson.' To this my mother readily consented; and the day after, I was furnished with a satchel and sent off with two or three other boys of the dale, to Hawkshead school, to be made a scholar!