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MRS WINSLOW'S SOOTHING SYRUP FOR CHILDREN: should always be used when Children are cutting teeth itrelievea the little sufferers at once, it produces natural quiet sleep by relieving the child from pain, and the little cherub awakes as bright as a button." It is perfectly harmless, and very pleasant to taste. It soothes the child, it softens the gums, allays all pain, relieves wind, regulates the bowels, and is the best known remedy for dysentery and diarrhoea, whether arising from teething or other causes. Mrs Winslow's Soothing Syrup is sold by thousands of Medicine dealers in all parts of the world at Is ljd per bottle, and Millions 9f Mothers can testify to its virtue.— Manufactory, 493 Oxford Sireet, London. 4831 NEW METAL POCKET VESTA BOX WITH PATENT SPRING COVER.—Bryant and May have recently intra dticed a very useful little Pecket Vesta Box with a most ingenious and simple spring cover it is a novelty in every way, and will soon come into very general use—being of metal instead of card, and retailed, filled with vestas, at one penn Any Tobacconist, Grocer, Chemist, or Chandler will supply it. 4818 THOSE LADIES who have not yet used the GLENFIELD STARCH, are respectfully solicited to give it a trial, a.nd care, fully follow oat the directions printed on every package, I and if this is done, they will say, like the Queen's Laun. dress, that it is the finest Starch they ever used. What you for Glenfield Starch, see that you get it, as inferia kindJ are often substituted for the sake of extra profits, CHURCHYARDS AND FUNERALS.—I have often thought, especially in days of youth and sentiment, what should be the last Godspeed of the nearest and dearest to me. 1 think the time was to have been the very early morning, when gaping, indifferent idlers would be asleep; no hand that was not dear to me should have aujbt to do with the price- less burden. Brothers and friends, or faithful dependants, the truest and most tried, should be honoured with it. No vile coffin should angularly slander the graceful form. The of that last couch should have some hiarh meaning, or symbolise SOIIIH hopeful thought. Tts name and 'appear- ance should at once suggest something beyond the mere grave. Obviously the cross would be the most suitable, and quite a possible shape—telling at once of sorrow and of hope, hinting «f suffering and of salvation. Or, again, a boat might be built, suggesting the passage across the dark river, and the bright shore beyond. For trestles there should be, to bear the treasure-laden bark, stays and slips, as for a vessel just to be launched. A sheet of white flowers, or of white linen, edged with violet. and with a violet or blood-red cross in the centre, should drape the little boat and enfold it at anchor. Our garb should be white, because of the angels that bare away the soul; with, perhaps, an edge of violet, because of the mortals that are parting with the body. The bells should never toll, but ring a slow, solemn, sweet welcome. White choristers should take the angels' part in the procession, and precede with singing, while earth folio ved the sleeper with the offering of tears. No dreary duet between priest and clerk should chill the heart and strike it with loneliness and lack of sympathy soft music should hush the necessary move- ment aud noise at the times of these, and the banded voice of young men and maidens should go up to God in sweet Psalms and earnest Aniens. The Holy Communion, most exquisitely suitable at such a time, should remind sorrow- ing saints on earth of their communion with saints in Paradise. And then only the sod should cover the sleeper a white cross at the head and at the feet. No mass of marble should be built over her, as though we had no thought of her ever rising into the sun again. Flowers should spring up there after the winter, with their whisper of the resurrection, and their quiet, tender sympathy. I shoud come in the sunsets often the stars would find me still there quiet lambs, that scarce had been aware of me, would pause from their nibbling when I moved. But, for all the sorrow, horror and despair should cast no gloom on the sacred spot—those Vampire wings sheuld never hover there. The shadow that dwelt there should be soft, and grey, and translucent, cast by the white wing of the Angel of Hope. I am aware that much of this may seem fanciful, sentimental, to some readers. Be it so. I said that there were In it some gleanings from earlier days yet own some- thing in it of graceful and true, some fancy at least better than the grim reality of respectable society's demon orgies. There are, I know, a few practical men who are trying to carry out in fact what, as yet, have been only fancies with me. Let my blue-flowered delicate flax be woven into serviceable linen, useful, but still delicate and fair.— Churchman's Shi!Iing\Majeazine. POMP AND THANKSGIVING. -Everybody is thinking—we cannot say we blame them for it—of the show, not of the spiritual act to be performed at St. Paul's. People are dreaming a great deal more about the ribands than about the rites; about the liveries than about the litany or lessons about the splendour of the spectacle than about the spirit of their prayers. Nor will there be the excuse for all this which there is for gorgeous Church ceremonial generally—that the very object of this gorgeous ceremonial is to express the grandeur of the spiritual power and the comparative nothingness of man, For in these cases the pomp is not ecclesiastical pomp, is not representative of the humility of the worshippers and of the grandeur of the object of worship but, on the contrary, u directly symbo- lical of the earthly majesty of the principal worshippers- consists, in fact, in Carlyle's sense, of "cloth." of the precise kind which hide tho poverty and nakedness of the individual soul from itself, and invest it in a cloud of human pageantry. No doubt the thanksgiving itself is a grand formal acknowledgment of the power and mercy of God but the tendency of the whole ceremonial must be to bring much more emphatically into relief the power and grandeur of the chiefs of the State. The voice of thanks- giving will go up muffled by the heavy atmosphere of the pomp through which it passes. The pageantry of the day will certainly be pageantry declaring the glory of man rather than the glory of God. The Thanksgiving service will be a public memorial of a real thanksgiving of which the ardour is mostly past—a grand monument to a spent wave of religious feeling rather than an expression of one now really passing through the public mind. The atten- tion which many weeks age was really concentrated on the prayer aud the thanks, will not be concentrated on the Royal magnificence and the stateliness of the national array. We confess we see a real incongruity between this con- centration of effect on the Royal procession, and the object of the rite for which it is put in motion. The purpose of the day is a public acknowledgement of the nation's thank- fulness for a granted prayer, and of the Prince of Wales's gratitude for the Divine mercy. In both cases the central point of the intsrest and the central point of its symbolical expression of gratitude ought to be on the religious, and not on the human, side. Can anything hide this better than so careful an accumulation of grand effects upon the regal magnificence of the thanksgiver and his surroundings ? We cannot help thinking that the truer way of expressing such a feeling of national thanksgiving would be to aocumulate all possible splendour and beauty about the churches and the other places of worship of the whole United Kingdom, to have thanksgiving everywhere, while the Prince himself and those personally interested in his restoration to health should have gone in strict privacy, and without any marks of State or splendour, to mingle their thanks with those of the people. If the mercy of God means anything on such an occasion, it means something so great, that the natural mode in which kings should recognise it, would seem to be more by a careful putting off of all worldly grandeur, than by putting it on. These are occasions in which the heart and soul ought to be engaged, if the service is to be a real one. And if they are so engaged, is not the very first thought of the nothingness of th:\t rank of which earth makes so much of the certainty th1\t the soul of a monarch, when it comes to be stripped of all adventitious aids, will be on an exact equality with the soul of the poorest peasant in his dominions—of that effacement of dignity, and wealth, and power, which comes in the presence of death ? How could this be better symbolised amongst us than by the attempt to realise on the day of thanksgiving that spiritual equality which had been more than realised when the Prince seemed to be breathing out his last breath on a bed of fever ? How could it be better symbolised than by re- serving all our poor attempts at glory for the buildings in which God is worshipped amongst us, and as far as pos- sible ignoring the showy external side at least of those petty distinctions of rank which in the presence of God appear so trivial, and are, at all events, so fatal to the influence of true devotion ? It may be said that, after all, it was for the heir to the Throne that the nation prayed, and that, therefore, in any true thanksgiving service, there should be no artificial attempt to conceal his public rank and position, since it is for his preservation as heir to the Throne that the people wish to give God tfeanks. Of course, that is 80 far true, that had he not been heir to the Throne the popu- lar feeling would have been much less marked, much less ardent; but then, if it was for his real happiness and good, for his spirit and not merely for his succession to the Royal inheritance, that the people prayed, what they would need to realise most, and probably what he himself would need to realise most, is the weakness and helplessness of the spiritual part of the man, and not his grand position which they can see illustrated in any State pageant whatever. The opportunities are sufficiently few in which either a prince or a nation strips off the conventional signs of rank which so mislead and distort our imagination here, and the Sovereign, or future Sovereign, appears to himself and to them simply as one of the creatures of God. Surely a national thanksgiving for God's granting of the people's prayers for the Prince-if we believe that God did grant the people's prayers—should be one such occasion—to be distinguished by a marked absence of earthly pernp rather than by its presence and, if by splendour at all, splendour lavished on the symbols of the Divine power and presence, not on the grandeur of the human worshipper. The pomp of the 27th of February wtH certainly not be a pomp of this kind. It will, if it resemble the 23rd of April, 1789, be a day on which the Prince of Wales will realise more vividly than ever before the grandeur of his earthly position, and perhaps feel more difficulty than ever in disrobing himself, even in the very act of Divine worship, of those interior trappings which popularity, rank, and power gradually weave around the heart.—Spectator.

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