WESLEYAN CONFERENCE AT BIRMING- HAM. On Thursday morning, (the 24th ult.), a most animated scene occurred, in connection with the visit of the Nonconformist Deputation. The Rev. R. W. Dale presented the address which was signed by 15 Congregationalist ministers, by 11 Baptist ministers, and by 4 Presbyterian min- isters, all of Birmingham. The speeches on the occasion by the Revs. Arthur, Punshon, and Dale, were most elevated in tone, and produced an extraordinary effect. Dr. Punshon, when referring to the relation of the Wesleyans to other denomi- nations, said we are nobody's vassals, nobody's poor relations, but the friends of all who are work- ing for Christ, and for the good of souls." During the year, 36 ministers have died, one of whom had lived to the age of 101. We find in the death roll the name of the Rev. H. Fish, M.A., who was well known in this neighbourhood, from his frequent and welcome visits, especially to Blaenavon. The number of ministers placed on the supernumerary list is 24, among whom we find the name of the Rev. E. Tovey, recently the super- intendent of the Pontypool Circuit. There is a large surplusage ofcandidates for the ministry this year, some of whom will have to work at least two years before they can be received into either of the Colleges. Among the few ministers who have resigned is the Rev. Jackson Wray, the author of several popular fictions. It is said that Mr Wray intends to devote himself entirely to literary work. One young minister who has resigned offered himself for ordination to the Bishop of Rochester, but the Bishop, to his great honour, declined to ordain him, until he had refunded to the Wesleyans the costs of his ministerial training. Since our last issue, there have been a few alterations in the stations, the Rev. R. Sloe, of Bolton, is now down for Blaenavon, and the Rev. W. Russell is removed from Clithero.
Professor Swift of America, is to receive tnvq gold medals from the Austrian Academy of Seicrooa for the discoveries of comets. The Globe understands, that the Royal Commissi pL a t aud Rc3i8"on of Ecclesiastical ences have agreed to their report. A NOEL SEVRVICE.—A most remarkable service, says the New York Independent, was held in St. Louis on Sunday evening, June 29th, being noth- ing less than a joint meeting of Baptists and Jews, held in the synagogue of the latter, and presided over jointly by the pastor, the Rev. W. W. Boyd4 and the rabbi Dr. Sonnenschein. On the buroinef of the Second Baptist Meeting-house, six; months ago, the Jewish congregation near by offered their Christian neighbours the free use of their temple while the new church was building. The kind offer was accepted, and, after using Dr. Sonnens- chein 's synagogue for half a year, a united meet- ing was proposed. The two clergymen led in prayer, hymns were sung from their two hymn- books, a sermon was preached by Mr. Boyd from 1:\ text in the Psalms, and at the close of it a silver vice was presented in the name oi the Baptist con- gregation to the Jewish Hamster, who responded, drawing a graphic picture of a brotherhood of all nations ahd creeds travelling to the great here- after, with ther hearts and affections fixed on the same God, and regarding each other as the child- ren of the same parent." AN EVENING BEV^a^e—Epps's Cacaoine (Quint- essence f c&CRO) is equally liquid and refreshing M tP44 affording moreover a sterling support to the system. Unsweetened. Each packet (6d.) is labelled "JAMES Errs & Co., Homoeopathic Che- mists, London." PONTYPOOL Printed by HUGHES & SON, at their General Printing Offices, for the Proprietor and Publisher, HENRY HUGHES, Junior, of Penygarn, in the parish of Trevethin, and published at the FREE PRESS Office, Market St.-August 2, 1879.
THE WEATHER—1879. The weather, the weather, the weather; Is it winter, or summer, or both mixed together ? One day there is sunshine, and then a week's rain, The hay it is backward, and how late the grain! 'Twere well if wiseacres, who loudly complain, Who would alter the weather and stop all this rain, Could but know what advantages, yes, and what gain: May accrue from the fall of continuous rain ? When drought and dry seasons arrive in their turn, When T:I,in it is lacking and hot summers burn, Then miasma and fever and cholera pain Result from too little, not overmuch, rain. What if harvests be scant and the ear lack its grain, Perhaps there 's a blessing still due to the rain! We are short-sighted mortals, who always complain, And can't see what blessings come down with the rain. Go on, till the ground, and scatter the grain, You cannot bring sunshine nor yet stop the rain; But one thing we can do without too much strain, Have a firm faith in Him who sends sunshine and rain. For seed time and harvest shall ever remain, Though there's drought here and there, and in England there's rain. Too much rain," say some, who are apt to complain, "It spoils all the hay and it keeps back the grain Yet still there are climes where sunshine doth reign, And millions of acres are covered with grain But the farmer at home is heard to complain, We shall all go to ruin through incessant rain. The hay it is gone, there's no hope for the grain, I can't see, at all, why we should'nt complain." For his rent must be paid, and whatever remain To be levied, the rector his tenth he must gain, He wo'nt let him off because of the rain; Give the tenth, give the tenth, for this is my right, Gainst seasons of drought and of rain you must fight; My own little profits, from glebe lands or so And the funeral fees, and the marriages too, "Will not go very far to keep up my train, So the tithe you must pay, I can't think of the rain." But there is a text, I will here just explain, That provides for the farmer in seasons of rain; "Bear ye each other's burthens," which means, without strain, We should help one another in seasons of rain. Landowners, I tell you, I don't think it fair, That farmers should work hard and bear all this care; Some landlords I know, in the county of Kent, Have come out like men, and diminished their rent, Throwing back to the farmer quite fifty per cent, Thus making amends for so very much rain, And I'm sure what they give in the end they will gain. But the matter may still, if only we would, Be viewed in a way that may do us some good. Whether rain is a judgment is not understood, Some think that it is, but other folks say, It can't be a judgment upon us to-day. For the natural laws must always prevail, And sunshine and rain come, and snow, sleet and hail In some distant lands the harvest is fair, If rain be a judgment why is it not there?" It is true, as they say. that good harvests abound, And blessings in plenty spring out of the ground, But God's armies are vast, He has more than one plan To punish the sins and shortcomings of man, Who ingratitude shows that in Him he wont trust; Caterpillar and locust, blight, mildew and rust; The wild raging storm which sweeps o'er the plain And blasts in a moment the beautiful grain, Leaving nothing but ruin behind in its train; Earthquakes and fierce fires, a thousand things more; He brings from his armoury-always in store. Can we expect mercy who care not to give The same to poor blacks who in Africa live, Whom we slaughter by thousands, and count that we gain, As we revell in blood on th' ensanguined plain: Whether Afghan or Zulu the plea's all the same, Martial glory, we think, is our national fame From Martini, or Gatling, or Whitworth, 'tis plain That we glory in bloodshed and thousands of slain. A nation of Christians, I'm afraid but in name, Else ire should feel more for the wounded and lame, And the dead and the dying, 0 England, for shame Then let us show kindness to all, black and fair, Never mind what the skin or the colour of hair, God made of one blood, whether black, brown or fair, All who dwell on this earth and breathe the same air. When our own acts of mercy have spread far and wide Then God's blessing will come, like the flow of the tide; And complaints wont be heard, for both townsman and swain Will have found that prosperity came with the rain. Pontypool, July 23rd. J. H.
rA LL RIGHTS RESERVED.J 'TWIXT CUP AND LIP. BY NANNIE LAMBERT, Authoress of "Spring Leaves" Thoughts on the Talmud,"$c. CHAPTER IX. Then I go to my own apartment, to put in practice second plan, of which the night before has wit- nessed mr rr-oTvc. It is true my letter to Derrick is impossible, but not so another letter, which I think the time has now arrived for me to write. It is a foreign letter—.i very brief one but so big with import, so heavy with the fate of at least three personages, that any hand bss brave than mine would tremble to pen it; but my fingers, like my heart, seemed possessed of an unnatural strength, and I dash off the concluding words-" Come at once," and sign myself Your dutiful Niece," with a hand that never falters. I place this letter in my bosom, resolved that nobody but myself shall commit it to the post; and then, whilst the carriages are coming round, and horses are prancing, and the entire household is ab- sorbed in preparations for departure, I take my last look at the laurel-walk, and at the little seat in the wood and roam, as in a dream. throush the deserted wioms, which T conned never again to »o- # Mayfair. Second week in April. Scorching sun. Phine, and chilling showers alternately, making one feel the drought of summer, with all the icy influence of winter. The house we are in it not a pretty one it i" f:l]j and straight, and uninteresting—for all the world like a great ninepin, in a row of others The windows are high and narrow; the paint colourless and dingy the room-papers cold and ugly. apartment, in Par- ICU ar, is hung with a brown and white, spidery- oo -ing paper, which reminds me of hideous, spin- ning, flY-k-illin,, crawlies, on thread-like legs, and makes me shudder to look at it. I do not like the place at all. I wonder how my employers can wish to leave their beautiful suburban residence, at a time when it is clothed in its most charming garb, and come into smoky London, where we see more mud and misery in four days than wo saw in four months at Beech Hill. I certainly do not appreciate the change that it is the fashion, and after this same Fashion," half the world is going mad. I have heard nothing of Derrick, and am counting the hours until his arrival. It is very near, now- nearer even than I think—yet, every moment is a heavy weight. My pupils have done simply nothing since our so- journ in town commenced. They have driven out with their mother, ridden their ponies in Hyde Park, dressed themselves in their prettiest garments, and paraded at the fashionable hour, through Piccadilly but lessons have not once been thought of. I do not worry myself about it, now, as I used to do. I have done my duty, and am weary of finding my efforts unappreciated. Besides, I am under notice to quit. Mrs. Beech had told me, a week ago, that she is thinking of sending the young ladies to school, and will not require my services after the end of June. I am in no way surprised, nor am I displeased; in short, I am too miserable to trouble myself much about it. My heart ia so filled with Derrick, that it has no room for any feeling unconnected with him. Mrs. Daring and I are still watching one another—f s'ill like the two sheep in the field, walking shoulder to shoulder, each awaiting the time for the final crash. She and I are not on speaking terms, but I fancy I C!!1 detect a certain buoyancy of manner about her, since the date of Mrs. Beech's conversation with me which makes me more than ever confident that she 1at the bottom of it all. \v hat I am now about to write may appear strang.) and incredible, but I can vouch for the truth of it; nor newl there exist the smallest doubt of its being a fact of real life. On the night of the 9th of April, I have a strange dream, connected with the old-fashioned desk be- queathed to me by my late father-the same at which I am daily accustomed to write, and which mv com- tsanion-sheep so daringly opened. I dream that, in turning over its contents, my hand touches some secret spring, and reveals a hidden drawer, in which I find the missing papers. So impressed am I by this dream, or vision, that I set out early the following morning, accompanied by the desk, and drive, in a fever of impatience, to a small shop, very far away from Mayfair, in the miserable neighbourhood in which my first days in London have been passed. It is a shop which I know well: a veritable Old Curiosity Shop," which would take the pen of a Dickens to describe. I know the old man who owns it, too he and I have had some dealings together be- fore now; and he recognises me as I descend from the cab, and comes to the door, bowing and shewing his few remaining mouldy teeth, in a ghastly smile. After an interchange of civilities, I tell him my tJasiness-tdl him the whole story of the desk, and of what it was supposed to contain, and finally related to him my dream. He listens attentively, shakes his whithcred head a few times, taps his forehead with his gnarled forefinger, and says—"Follow me." I I follow him into a small back room, the door of which he shuts, having first taken the precaution of calling his nephew (a curiosity in himself) to mind the shop. Then, he examines the desk in the most careful manner, for at least ten minutes. To me it seems ten hours. His busy hands are about it in every direction, working 'so fast that I can scarcely follow them. The post of examiner is, in this instance, by no means a sinecure there are so many drawers, so many sliding panels, so many nooks and niches in unsuspected corners, that the eyes and fingers of the faded little old man seem scarcely able to keep pace with one another in the eagerness of the search. I look on, tremblingly, and await the issue. It is a picture of suggestions—one fit for Mauris to paint— the story of a Giulia and the lapidary over again, only with more redeeming features. All this time, the antiquarian never lifts his eyes. He does not speak, nor can I gather anything from his face. He still examines, carefully and methodi- cally, but for some time longer without result. At length-with lips screwed together, and an expression upon his countenance most difficult to understand— the little man takes out the large drawer next the bottom of the desk, seizes ahammer, and knocks it in- to pieces, saying, This is the last chance." As it falls apart, one section of the bottom, which, like all the others, is divided into two compartments, drops asunder, and discovers a packet of papers laid flat between the two thin leaves, which, so long as they have been pressed together in the grooves of the drawers, have presented precisely the same appear- ance as the rest. I utter no exclamation. So perfectly are my feel- ings under control-so entirely have I been prepared for this-that one would suppose the shrivelled being by my side, to be far more interested ir the matter than I am, for his usually impenetrable countenance becomes quite radiant. He asks no questions, however-expresses no curi- osity,—he respects the situation in which I am placed, and does not ever glance at my face, as he hands me the papers, saying that he will retain the desk, for repairs. This son of toil-this miserable, grimy, deformed little old man, is one of Nature's gentlefolks. His conduct might serve as a pattern to half the jewe- clled dandies, and dainty demoiselles by whom we are daily surrounded. God knows, it is not birth that ennobles us. I believe, that, in the great Day, when the Master "maketh up His. jewels," there will be more rough diamonds entering in through the "pearly gates," than of those who have here de- lighted to look upon themselves as polished chieJ corner-stones. I tell the little antiquary how grateful I am to him, and endeavour to prove my words by bestowing upon him as large a reward as I am capable of affording at the time, with a promise of a future one also which, however, he refuses beforehand to accept. Then I re-enter the cab, and drive back to Mayfair and the fashion. Happily there is nobody at home; unless, indeed, the other sheep is watching me, which is not at all unlikely. Oh, we are very near the gap in the hedge now so near, that I can see, with tolerable clearness, into the field beyond. We arc walking so close to- gether—shoulder to shoulder, still--both watching the gap, that neither of us will for an instant turn an eye away from regarding the other's movements. I reach my chamber, unmolested and unquestioned; search it; lock the door; bolt the window; draw the curtain across it, and sit down to study the papers, which I have never for an instant left out of my hand. There are three. The first is a half sheet of fools- cap, on which are some dates, and the names and addresses of three individuals. The second is a letter, on ordinary subjects, dated eighteen years back, and signed "Jane Ashton." The writing is faded, Vut familiar. I have seen it before on a half-burnt acmp of paper. I could not be mistaken about it. The third document is enclosed in a long-shaped envelope, unsealed, the gum has not r"cn been wetted, anti T take out the enclosure, and look at it. A glance is sufficient to show me that it is the will of my uncle, Siephen Ashton, and I refold it at once, and replace it in its envelope. Then, as a sudden thought strikes | me, I search hastily for needle and thread, and stitch the three papers, neatly and strongly, into the lining of my dress. This done, I sit down and think and the spidery room-paper dances hideously before me, and makes me shiver as usual. I am calculating how many days must necessarily elapse before I can have an answer-personal, or otherwise-to the letter whir'- I wrote on the day we left Beech Hill. I am ow looking for the advent of two personrs- coming of either of whom, must "1 important changes for me. I sit ti.Liiing so long and deeply of these things, that tie spidery paper actually swims before me, and I get np and take a turn through the room. If 1 have ever had a doubt of the identity of Mrs. Daring I can certainly have none now, although I I have failed in finding thejportrait of which Monsieur Corvier has spoken. Then, I recall the night of my father's death, and how the fiery flashes had played on the brass mountings of his desk, and dazzled my I eyes as I lay resting upon the couch and how the French nurse had busied herself about everything; and how Monsieur Corvier and I had found the lock of the desk broken, next day, and all the money gone, except a trifling sum. Oh, how vividly I re- member it all! More so to-day than ever I have done before. There is an awful clearness of mental vision about me during these solitary hours. My mind is like a great looking-glass upon which no cloud nor speck of dust is resting. Surely the gap is very near now. Then, I fall to thinking about my little friend, the owner of the curiosity shop, and strangely enough, coinmonce to make comparisons between him and Mrs. Daring, and between him and Carl. I al- most laugh as I tirnk about it, and begin to draw such odd pictures and contrasts, that a variety of fantastic but familiar images seem to my fancy to start out upon the spidery paper, and to put tho spiders to flight. It is not many hours since Carl, with his usual hypocritical politeness, has brought me a bunch of choice exotics from the florist's, to compensate for the loss of the flowers which he has heard me lament- ing at Beech Hill. I draw a comparison between his white, jewelled hand, presenting me with the bouquet, whilst his hungry, prying eyes strive to read my very thoughts, and the hard and toil-worn hand which presented me with the packet of papers at the curiosity shop, whilst the eyes were purposely turned from my face, lest it should appear that one atom of curiosity was mingled with the pleasure which the countenance of the little antiquary had betrayed. I draw a comparison between the gentleman adven- turer, living by his wits, and the lowly-born mechanic, living by the sweat of his honest brow and drawing these comparisons, I ask myself, which of the two is foremost in the ranks of Nature's gentlefolks ? Which of them »»• --trest to the KINGDOM, into which we are told a rich man cannot enter ? Thinking long upon the subject, makes me become poetical, or at all events versical, and, sitting down, I seize upon pencil and paper, and dash off the fol- lowing lines which, whatever their merits or demerits nay be, arc at least original, and with which I shall •lose this chapter: WHAT IS A GENTLEMAN? What is a gentleman ?—Ia it a thing Decked with a scarf-pin, a chain, and a ring, Dressed in a suit of immaculate style, Sporting an eye-glass, a lisp, and a smile Tnlkiug of races, of concerts, and balls, Evening assemblies, and afternoon calls, Running himself at At homes and Bazaars, Whistling mazurkas, and smoking cigars? What is a gentleman ?—Say is it one Boasting of conquests, and deeds he has done One, who niiblusliingly glories to speak, Things which should call up a flush to his check One, who, whilst railing at actions unjust, Ilobs some young heart of its pureness and trust, Scorns to steal money, or jewels, or wealth, Ihinks it no wrong to take honour by stealth? What is a -en'lemiii ?-Is it not one Knowing instinctively what ho should shun, Speaking no word which could injure or pain, Spreading no scandal, and deepmug no stain? Onr>, who knows how to put each at his case, Striving, successfully, always to please One, who can tell by a glance at your cheek, When to be silent, and when he should speak ? What is a gentleman ?-Is it not one Honestly eating the bread he has won, Walking in uprightness, fearing his God, Leaving no wtain oil the path he has trod ? Caring c not wlethcr his cat may be old, Prizing sincerity far abeve gold It' eking not whether his hand may bo hard, Stretching it boldly, to grasp its reward? What is a gentleman ?—S;iy, is it birth Makes a man noble, or adds to his ivortli ? Is thpre a family-troo to be had Shady 01 ough, to conceal what is bad? S ok out the 1TI"1I who has God for his guide, N thing to tremble at, nothing to hido, l'e lie, a or be ho in trado, ThU ij the Gjutleruan NATCKE has mado. r 1, V CHAPTER X. I am down early the following morning, but not early enough to be before the other sheep, who peems determined to have the advantage of me in the field. She knows as well as I myself, that we are awfully near the gap. Shoulder to shoulder, and step for step, we still are walking, but one or other must soon go through the break in the hedge, into the un- known field beyond. When I enter the dining-room, she is standing at Mr. Beech's elbow, watching him eagerly, as he sorts the morning's post, laying each person's letters beside his or her plate. She is evidently impatient, for her fingers are as busy as his own amongst the pile before him; and when I come in, Shi is thrusting three or four bulky envelopes hastily into her pocket. She does not pretend to see me, but Mr. Beech bows to me, and as he does so, says-" Pardon me, Mrs. Daring, I think one of those letters was for Miss Ashton." She is too hardened to blush, but she turns white, and says-" No, no they are all for me." I am desperate, and steadily confront her, saying- Give me my letter," in a tone which sounds awful, even to myself. Mr. Beech gives her one of his peculiar glances, and the guilty wretch brings forth the letter, and lays it tremblingly upon the table. Then she mutters a few incoherent words of attempted apology, and goes out of the room, with the face of a dd person—a face like one stricken down in the midst of bitter woe. She is checkmated the second time. Oh, the gap is very near, now! Mr. Beech drops his eyes, and busies himself with his own letters, which he carries off to his study, without a word. He is certainly the most perfectly well-bred man I have ever come across. Once he is gone, I have undisturbed possession of the dining-room, and I take my letter to the window for a careful inspection of it. Poor letter! what an cscape it has had of never reaching me. I know the writing, and the foreign post-mark. It is from my uncle, and must have been written, and posted, previous to his having received the letter which I sent him on the day of our departure from Beech Hill, to which place this of his has been origi- nally addressed, and from which it has been forwarded by the housekeeper. The contents are as follows :— My dear Niece,— "I have been in communication with a Irencfi gentleman, Monsieur Corvier, who has furnished me with your address. His last letter led me to believe that you might possibly write to me, and I have been disappointed that you have not done so. I gather from him that you are aware of certain matters con* nected with the past. I have just formed a resolix. tion, upon which, if God spares me, I shall act at once; you may, therefore, expect to see me in England about the end of April, or the beginning of May. My health is in a most precarious state, but if any poy. tion of strength is spared me, I shall come, and I -,hi)ik I shall be able for the iournev. Monsieur Corvier tells me that you failed in find- ing my will, a copy of which was in your late fatherlt keeping. He kept it in a private compartment of his heavy brass-mounted writing-desk, together with some important papers with which I entrusted him. In case the desk may have passed out of your possession, or that I should die before reaching Europe, I send, in this letter, a second copy of the will, the original of which is lodged with my banker hero, Mr. Richard Orme, of Broome Lodge, High Westgate-a man in whose integrity I htvo the most complete confidence. The document herein enclosed, is not therefore of any particular value, but it is as well for you to have it, and to keep it safely. Should my daughter be proved to be dead, or to be a follower of her mother's disgraced course of life, you will be my sole heiress. In any case, you are well provided for.—Your unhappy uncle, STEPHEN ASHTON. Three or four times over, I peruse this extraor- dinary letter. Then I count certain days and weeks upon my fingers; read the letter again inspect the scaled envelope which is enclosed in it; return both to my pocket; and prepare to eat my breakfast, with unusual appetite. Mrs. Daring does not come down again that day, and pleads a headache as an apology for her non- appearance. Carl is absent from the house for several hours during the morning and afternoon, and spends most of the evening in his mother's apartment. When he is with us at all—at meal-times, and during the hour devoted to music, between supper .J.a bed- time—he is more than ordinarily polit3 me; but I know exactly how to value his attention, and can esti- mate their worth to a farthing. That night, for hours after I retire jo rest, I am kept awake by the continuous low hutr of voices in I .<. lot> —1- :1.. under mine. She and her son hold council until the small hours begin to chime, and I hear the opening and shutting of boxes, the moving of luggage, and the mysterious treading of feet, which warns me of the correctness oi a conclusion at which I have arrived. They arc preparing to be on the move The letter has given them warning, that the gap in the hedge is within a stone's-throw of where they stand. 0, how I long for Derrick's return! how my soul yearns to commence with him, to tell him all its wounds and sickness, and see if his words will cure, or—kill! I toss upon my couch, and pray that he I may soon come. No line, not even a word, have I heard from him since the day of his departure. Then heard from him since the day of his departure. Then I say to myself—" Perhaps he has written, and this woman has stolen the letters, as she was «Wling another this morning." I have, of course, no meam of finding out until he comes, and so I torment myself, until I fall asleep. The following morning—whilst we are at breakfast —a telegram comes in, and is handed to Mrs. Daring. She affects to be very much disturbed by it, and say, it is from Ireland, demanding her immediate presence, on a matter of important business. General confusion follows. Mrs. Beech, in hei loud tones, entreating her to put it off, or at all events to promise a speedy return my pupils lamenting over Carl, who had made himself a favourite with them, and who says he must accompany his mother; orders, and counter-orders, being given to servants f and a general air of breaking up pervading every* thing. Mr. Beech and I are alone quiet, and undisturbed. Perhaps we equally well guess the cause of all w. At all events we are silent—and listen. '4 (To be continued.)
THE CHARMERS OF HINDQQSTAN. A lean Hindoo, almost naked, with an ascetic tacc and bronzed colour, entered. Around his neck, arms, legs and body were coiled serpents of different sizes. The serpents raised their head, and hissed, but with- out showing any anger. Then taking a small pipe, attached to a wick in his hair, the juggler produced scarcely audible sounds imitating the tailspeca, a bird that feeds upon bruised cocoanuts. Here the serpents uncoiled themselves, and one after another glided to the floor. As soon as they touched the ground, they raised about one-third of their bodies, and began to keep time to their master's music. Suddenly the fakir dropped his instrument and made several passes with his hands over the serpents, of whom there were about ten, all of the most deadly cobra species of In<4- His eyes assumed a strange expression. We felt indefinable uneasiness, and sought to turn away, oux gaze from him. At this moment, a small shocra, whose business was to hand fire in a small brazier for light- ing cigars, yielding to his influence, lay down, and fell asleep. Five minutes passed thus, and we felt that if the manipulations were to continue a few seconds more, we should all fall asleep. Chondor then rose, and making two more passes over the shocra, said to it, Give the commander some fire." The young Bervant rose, and, wifhout tottering, came and offered fire to his master. It was pinched and pulled about, till there was no doubt of its being actually asleep. Nor would it move from Sir Masswell's side till or- dered to do so by the fakir. We then examined the other cobras. Paralysed by magnetic influence, they lay at full length upon the ground. On taking them up we found them as stiff as sticks. They were in a state of complete catalepsy. The fakir then awakr cned them, and they returned and again coiled them- selves round his body. On asking if he could make us feel his influence, he made a few passes over our lags and instantly we lost the use of them we could not leave our seats. He then released us as easily as he bal paralyzed us. Cribb-Chondor closed his seance fiy experimenting upon inanimate objects. By mere passes with his hands in the direction of the object he acted upon, and, without leaving his seat, he paled and extinguished lights in the farthest part of the room, moved the furniture, including the divans upon which we sat, opened and closed doors. Catching sight of a Hindoo who was drawing water from & well in the garden, he made a pass in his direction, and the rope suddenly stopped in its descent, resisting all the efforts of the astonished gardener. With another pass the rope again descended. "Do you employ the same means in acting upon inanimate objects that you do upon living things?" I asked. CI I have only one means," he replied. "What is it ?" <( The will. Man, who is the result of all in- tellectual and material forces, must dominate over all. The Brahmins know nothing beside"
The true estimation of living is not to be taken from age, but action some old die at forty, others infants at fourscore. We want as much moderation not tQ be corrupted with our good fortune, as patience pot be dejected with our bad.? ( "Y
PULPIT SKETCHES IN PONTYPOOL I No. IV.—MOUNT PLEASANT CHAPEL. Independency is founded on the principle that every congregation should have the power of managing its own affairs without the assistance or interference of other congregations. This principle has its root in the right of private judgment, alleged to be the inalienable privi- lege of every individual in the human race. It is undoubtedly a wholesome principle, and has produced excellent results in many cases but even Independents admit that it must work within certain limits. For if carried to its ex- tremest conclusion it makes every congregation a sect, and every family a congregation; and the ancient problems of liberty and law, and the rights of minorities, are involved in its ulti- mate development. Congregationalists represent the new Testa- ment as their only creed. Now it is notorious that no two persons think exactly alike with re- ference to all the doctrines of the Now Testa- ment. A certain amount of mutual concession, therefore, forms the basis of a religious as well as of every other society. How far such con- cession should extend must be determined by every man for himself but it is certain that without some surrender of individual opinion, religious society on a large scale cannot be es- tablished. Many churches have adopted creeds in order to exhibit in a succinct form their in- terpretation of Scripture. If such creeds be not absolutely necessary, they are at least expedient; for when what are considered damnable heresies are derived directly from theNewTestament, it is not unwise to show the sense in which Scripture is viewed by a particular church. We have heard Congregationalists maintain that owing to their having nocreed they arefreefrom the dissensions that trouble other churebers. Such an assertion, even if true, is of little value. Where the bond of union is rigid, as in tne Presbyterian Church, schism is inevitable where the bond is elastic, as in the Anglican Church, schism is not impro- bable but where there is no bond, as in the Congregational Church, schism is impossible. At the present day there are two strongly- marked tendencies in the Congregational Church. On the one hand there is the tendency to unity and cohesiveness, displaying itself in those As- sociations and Unions which Dr. Parker sarcas- tically characterizes as bastard Presbyterian- ism." On the other hand there is the tendeucy to isolate and individualize, whose ultimate outcome see'ms to be anarchy and chaos. Where the line is to be drawn it is difficult to say but that the line should be drawn somewhere is rapidly becoming evident to all observers. In the Congregational Church as at present consti- tuted, there is room for a man to believe and preach almost anything he pleases. We have heard the eloquent Dr. Mellor, following in the wake of one James Arminius, discharge the vials of his wrath upon soulless theologians, and shatter the third chapter of the Westminster Confession, the seventeenth article of the Church of England, and the ninth chapter of Romans, by one effort of his genius and not long after we had the privilege of hearing another light of the Congregational Church preach as pure and undiluted Calvinism as we have ever heard outside a Covenanting meeting-house. That a church can contain within its fold Unitarian- ism, Universalism, Restoratioftism, Arminian- ism, Calvinism, and most of the btlier isms that afflict mankind is a significant indication of the tendency of modern religious thought. The Congregational Chapel in Nicholas St., Pontypool, is a large and commodious building. On the occasion of our visit there was an over- flowing attendance; and we understand the chapel is usually wcli filled-whicli is one of the best tributes a pastor can receive. The minister, the Rev. T. Ll. Jones, who has been for some time in very delicate health, ascended the pulpit and preached from Rev. xxii., 17, "The Spirit and the Dride say come," &c. Mr Jones opened his sermon by observing that the text was an Eastern figure derived from a practicecurrent among nomadic tribes. When searching for a spring in the desert men spread themselves out in a long line within earshot of one another, and when one of the number dis- covered water he cried to the next, Come." The next took up the cry and so it passed from man to man until the whole tribe was apprised. This might be taken to represent humanity in the (wilderness of life, locking on all slues over the burning arid desert ror water. The mirage starts up before their eyes, and false springs they find in plenty but Jesus Christ is the only well of living water which will really satisfy their thirst. To this Fountain of Life, which is never exhausted, there is but one way to come: Christ's is the only name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved. The preacher went on to shew the necessity of coming, in the desiro that is not satisfied, the inward void unfilled, the yearnings of the whole nature towards a state of being which can only be realized in Christ Jesus. In sorrow, pain, and poverty, we vaguely grope for comfort and relief. This relief is only to be found in one place. The advantages of coming to Christ are manifold, 'Wle hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive the things which He hath prepared for those that love Him. Love, joy, peace, immor- tal life, are some things of which we can form but a hazy idea but the thrilling joy, the rap- turous bliss of being in the personal presence of the Majesty on high, are beyond our present comprehension. Mr Jones here broke into Welsh, and spoke for a few minutes in that language with the greatest fervour. lie pro- ceeded to say that he had a thorough belief in an ordained ministry, but he also believed that it is the boonden duty of every hearer to say, U Come." Every Christian is in some sort a preacher of the Gospel. The only reason that -ean be urged against this is inconsistency of life. If men feel the immense advantages of the water of life themselves, will they not invite others to partake ? By a vivid picture of the children of Israel in the wilderness, Mr Jones shewed how whoa Moses. struck the rock, the strong and youthful spent their strength in carrying water to the weak and reviving the aged. People made various excuses for not coming, such as the denial of the existence of thirst, the necessity of regeneration before coming, and so forth. The preacher in a few trenchant remarks demonstrated the insuf- ficiency of such excuses, and closed with a fervid appeal to his hearers to embrace Christ, and a wish for more power to cry come to all who came within his reach. Mr Jones's discourse was of that class usually kiLiown in religious circles as Gospel sermons." Its great characteristic was fervour. The ordi- nary flourishes of rhetoric and attempts at dainty elegance of speech were disregarded. The preacher spoko no a who feels that in the .presence of one great truth oil other things dwindle into insignificance. Before hIm watl a mingled mass of human beings, each possessed of an immortal soul whose eternal destiny might that evening be fixed. Here was no oc- casion for trifling or pedantry. The pressure of a burning enthusiasm forced him to speak to the hearts of his audience in the language of earnest feeling, which bursts through the tram- mels of conventionalism, as the ocean breaks and overleaps the artificial dykes that men build to restrain its waters. ,In Mr Jones's sermon there was little attempt at literary display. But literary sermons, how- ever pleasing to the educated and artistic ear, fail in general to stir and vivify the heart. In the style and matter of his discourse a preacher must have regard to the nature of his congrega- tion and the effect which he wishes to produce. Perhaps uo modern orator has ever exerted such unbounded sway over the feelings of his audi- ence as Whitefield. Whitefield, however, was by no means elegant in his speech, but he spoke straight from his heart to the hearts of his hearers, and moved them as no other man could move them. Mr C. H. Spnrgeon, who in power and spontaneity is only approached by Henry Ward Beecher, is far from being a model of correct writing. A certain breeziness of ex- pression, a freshness and force, characterize almost everything he says but there is a long difference between the cold lines of gude black prent and the burning words that issue hot from the heart in all the power of the living voice. In elegance and finish Spurgeon bears much the same relation to Dean Stanley that Q'Connell does to Burke, or Cobbett to Macaulay. MrjQnes's sermons may not read as well as those of some other preachers, but their effect is none the less marked. The true aim of all conscientious ministers of the Gospel should be to make their hearers Christ-like. If learned disquisitions will do that, then by all means resort to learned disquisitions. But if they will not do it-and we are jngjiped to doubt their efficiency-then emotional preaching must be tried. Mr Jones's success as a preacher is sufficiently indicated by the large and regular attendance at Mount Pleasant Chapel while his character as a man may be judged by the high place he occupies in the affections of his people, and in the esteem of his fellow-townsmen.
THE SACRIFICE OF THE MASS. BY VERITAS. ————— Having shown that the Church of Rome's theory of the Mass Sacrifice in its nature and object is anti- scriptural and profane that the professed re- petition or re-enactment of the Saviour's death death on the priestly altar cannot but be an infinite derogation from the Sacrifice of the Cross, and that the entire absence of that essential element of a true propitiatory sacrifice, viz., the shedding of blood, ne- cessarily and of itself, renders the Mass not only null and void, but even a solemn mockery, I proceed III. To observe that the assumption of the priests of Rome in claiming to be the successors of the Son of God in the p),iesthood., and in possessing the power of offering Him as a living sacrifice upon the altar, as both arro- gant and impious. It is not necessary that I should enter upon a long train of argument in proof of the position that the priests of Rome claim to be the successors of Christ in the priesthood; and none of them will be disturbed in the least by this statement. This they heartily believe in, and they have the second Canon of the Council of Trent to support them, though the term successors" is not found in it. The distinction they claim is no mean distinction,—their official status is sacred and divine. The high priest of the Mosaic Economy was common and insignificant compared with the merest fledgeling in the priesthood of Rome. Aaron, with his sacred and divine appointment to office, could offer no better sacrifice than a dumb beast but the priest of Rome can offer the Son of God upon the altar as often as he pleases. The Pope in his chair may be proud of the distinction of being the successor of Peter; but the priest at the altar occupies the more exalted position of being the successor of Jesus Christ Himself-not, of course, to the exclusion of His Holiness the Pope. On the Cross, Christ offered Himself "-now, the priest offers Him. What modest gentlemen these priests of Rome must be. Evidently they think it not robbery to be equal" with the Son of God Himself. Where have they found their warrant for this proud and arro- gant assumption ? Surely not in the New Testament. Every believer has an equal right to the only priesthood alluded to in theNewTestament: "Ye are a royal priest- hood, &c. and He hath made us kings and priests unto God," &c. and believers are priests only as they offer up to God spiritual sacrifices. The various orders of officers in the Christian Church are enumerated by St. Paul (Eph. iv., 11), and these, he tells us, were appointed by the Great Head of the Church Himself "And He gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pas. tors and teachers." There is not a word here or any- where else in the New Testament about the order of priests." Priests have no place in the New Testa- ment Economy. They are bold and audacious usurpers, who depose Christ and enthrone themselves. Of course, I do not forget that the order of priests" belongs also to the Episcopal Church of England but rc_ I am glad to think this Romish title is generally carried without that vain and lofty pretension of Rome w-e r'gkt of sacrificing Jesus Christ upon the altar, With regard to the teaching of tho New Testament concerning the priesthood of Jesus Christ, it is ex- plicitly declared to be unique and perfect, He having neither partner, rival, nor successor in this office. What can be conceived more definite and explicit than the following He abuleth a priest for ever." Again: "But this man, because He continueth ever, hath an unchangeable (original-intransferable, or in- transmissible J priesthood." He has never abdicated His priesthood in favour of the countless multitude of Rome s proud and aspiring officials. The Church of Rome would have us believe that we are still under the Jewish Economy, where they truly were many priests, &c for there is no end of them in the Church of Rome. But how have they come to possess the priest- hood of the Christian Church ? The inspired statement is unambiguous, Christ's priesthood is intransfcr- ablc. But for a ^shift, we are told by the scheming °^. P.rf i ^at Christ even yet sacrifices Him- sett, but by the hand of the priest." What sound theology this Much like another concerning the identity of the Mass with the Sacrifice of the Cross, viz. That the Mass^is a sacrifice for applying the Sacrifice of the Cross, as if one plaster were made for applying another, as old Matthew Pool observed, and yet for both plasters to be one and the same plaster." J3ut there is yet another point by which the priests of Rome are shown to fall but little short, if any, of deification. I find in a work entitled" Holy Altar and Sacrifice Explained," written by Father Pacificus Baker, of the Order of St. Francis," that the priests are the mediators of the people. Space will not permit a lengthy quotation, but with regard to the power of the priests it is stated thus: "The Father gave all power to the Son, and I see this power given to the priests by God the Son Hence the admo- nition of St. Francis to reverence and honour priests, Because,' says he, they administer the most holy body and blood of Christ which they alone consecrate, receive, and give to others." In the name of all con- science, in the way of power there is but little left for the priest to desire, as he does not seem by this to fall far below God Himself. But this deification of the priest must be maintained at all hazards, else the '1'YIoO'hY -Çn 1-0 _& x' u J:1:1 uvuu ivitu QlUu. XiLll. unce destroy the spell of priestly almightiness, and the poor victims, so long deluded, will soon brush off all the other cob-webs of imposture and superstition. Me- diators," forsooth, between God and His people." In the New Testament we are taught that, There is one God and one Mediator between God and man, the Man Christ Jesus." And who could be a Mediator but such a one as stood on an equality with both parties, God and man and who himself requires no Mediator between him and God, being spotless and immaculate. As for the priests of Rome, I hope every one will con- cede that they at least are sinners like the rest of our race and it would be no difficult matter to prove from their own doctors' writings that many of them have been so immoral and vile as to shock the heart and paralyse the hand of their friendly historians. How far, then, must they have been from being fit mediators between an infinitely holy God and sinful man. The conclusion is inevitable, and this inordinate as- sumption of the priests is both arrogant and impious. IV. I observe that the MassSacrificein the applica- tion of its supposed virtues necessarily tends to bring the death of Christ upon the Cross into contempt; and, as a matter of fact, the whole transaction of the Mass be- comes the grossest iniquity. I now come to deal with that part of the subject which is considered very delicate, and upon which the Church of Rome feels very sore, when it is exposed in its naked enormity to the vulgar gaze of the Protestant public, but yet is bold and unblushing enough when the subject is not so noticed. I feel compelled to notice it, for without this the imposture and iniquity of the Mass will not be fully seen or known. (1) The first thing I mention is, that the virtues and merits of Christ's death, according to the theory of the Mass, are sold for money. The priest who immolates the Son of God upon his altar may dispense the benefits of that sacrifice at will, and for any pecuniary remuneration satisfactory to him, or that custom may have sanctioned. No honest Roman Catholic will deny this. The priest may, pos- sibly, tell us that the money is not paid for the benefits of the^VIass but the simple, unsophisticated Roman Catholic knows to his sorrow that the benefits of the Mass canndt be obtained icithout the money. Let me say here that I do not assert that all Masses celebrated in Roman Catholic Churches are paid for in this direct mannor, neither do I say that this system of selling Masses prevails to the same extent and so unblushingly in this and other Protestant countries as in those countries where the Roman Catholic religion is domi- nant. But to deny that Masses are sold for money, even in this country, is simple hardihood. We can scarcely read any Roman Catholic weekly newspaper without finding an advertisement or letter promising Masses to any who shall contribute money for the erec- tion of churches, &c. In Tlte Catholic Times and Catholic Opinion, for June 13th, 1879,1 find one Joseph Hurst, Missionary Apostolic, soliciting subscriptions for the erection of St. Charles', Attercliffe, Sheffield,' and he winds up his letter thus: "To all subscribers I promise a monthly Mass, and the fervent prayers of my congregation." In other words, for any sub- scriber (whatever or whoever he be) of 21 and up- wards," the tragedy of Calvary shall be enacted and re-enacted every month on his behalf by the said Joseph Hurst, Missionary Apostolic. Let any, I do not know that they need be of the number of the '• faithful," contribute money towards any worthy object connected with the Holy Church, and Jesus Christ shall be of- fered on the altar whenever and as often as the priest with the Holy Church, and Jesus Christ shall be of- fered on the altar whenever and as often as the priest pleases. It is also a notorious fact that large sums of money are paid by poor people, for Masses celebrated for the release of father, mother, husband, wife, &c., from the fiery torments of purgatory. Large sums of money are also bequeathed by the rich to be paid to the officiating priest for the repose of their souls after their departure into Well, I don't know where, whether it be supposed to be purgatory or somewhere else. In the reign of George III., two Acts of Parliament were passed, by which every executor of will is bound under a penalty of X50 to give notice in the Dublin Gazette (for it pertained to Ireland), within three months after obtaining probate," &c. As a conse- quence, the large sums of money bequeathed for the saying of Massesj or as one of them stated it "to be laid out for suffr aces for his soul," were in due form gazetted. Among these we find in the year 1803, Mrs French left a sum of money to say Masses for her soul, and the souls of her two husbands." In 1805, The Rev. W. Lonergan, parish priest of Carrickbeg, county of Waterford, left this year Y,10 to the chapel of Carrickbeg, and 95 to Ballindesart chapel, and £100 to his burial, mouth's mind, and masses, at one shilling and sevenpence per mass." These are only examples and, bear in mind, Govern- ment records. Some years ago, in a discussion between the Rev Mr. Stoney and the Rev. Mr Hughes, Mr Stoney stated that masses were sold regularly in Ireland for half-a-crown. Mr Hughes did not deny, but answered thus, evasively —" Not at all: the half-a-crown is received by the priest, and a mass is offered up; but masses are not sold for half-a-crown." The inference to be drawn is this— That the masses would not be offered up if the half-a- crown had not been forthcoming. From what we have cited above, hundreds of pounds are bequeathed for the release of souls from purgatory; and these calculated at 2s 6d each, would mean that Jesus Christ should be offered thousands of times over for the release of one soul from purgatory, which sufferings are discriminately designated by theChurch of Rome as temporal pains. But as purgatory is set down for special notice, I shall not now stop to expose the absurdity of this designation. Masses, then, are sold for 2s 6d per mass; but we have seen from the bequest of the Rev W. Lonergan they are sold at the cheaper rate of Is 7d. The money ia generally paid in advance, and the officiating priest gives a receipt for the sum and the number of masses specified. But I find that they may be purchased at a cheaper rate still. Mr Wm. M'Gavin relates the follow- ing :—" I have been informed that a certain Irish gen- tleman, who had a correspondent in Lisbon, applied to him for a quantity of masses for the soul of a deceased friend and that he got them 50 per cent cheaper than they could be had in Dublin." Mr M'Gavin accounts for this by saying that priestly labour must be cheaper iu Lisbon than in Dublin." When very large sumo are paid for masses in Roman Catholic countries they are distributed among a number of convents & parishes. Mr M'Gavin, in his Master Key," &c., says-" When St. Martin died, his lady distributed a hundred thousand masses, for which she paid five thousand pounds ster- ling, besides a thousand masses which she settled upon all the convents and parish churches, to be said every year for ever, which amounts to a thousand pistoles a year." The same author tells us of another method in the disposing of masses. He says that it is secretly known among the priests that, by a special Bull from the Pope, called Centenaria Missa, they have the privilege of giving to one mass all the value of a hundred masses and this is done, he says further, "because the priests often receive in a day more money for masses than they can say in a month." Another device recorded by Mr McG-avin eclipses all the rest. He says that If some- body dieth, and the executors of the testament go to a father prior and beg of him to say a thousand masses, he gives him a receipt whereby the masses are said already by his friars to his own intention, and that out of that number he applies a thousand masses for the soul of the dead person And who has not heard of Tetzel's notorious sermons at the beginning of the Reformation. He would shout out at the top of his voice-" At the very instant that the money rattles at the bottom of the chest, the soul escapes from purgatory and flies liberated to heaven." Reformation." In a newspaper for July 18, 1879, it was stated by a writer that "It was a matter of notoriety in Paris amongst medical men and lawyers that the most un- scrupulous means are used by priests and nuns in the hospitals in order to make perverts, to enforce the making of wills, or to induce patients to leave sums for the saying of masses. Anyone who cares to inquire about it, may hear the doctors call the nuns the curses of the hospitals,' &c." These are some of the methods by which these mass dealers delude their ignorant victims and when any- one with a pretty long purse bears about him the slight- est symptoms of an impending exit to a better world, the good Fathers will be about him like birds of prey around a carcase. (2). I have just one point more in order to show the utter prostitution of the death of Christ, as set forth in the mass Not only are masses sold for money, but they are sold for the most vile and degraded purposes." The 3rd canon of the mass reads thus If anyone saith that the sacrifice of the mass ought not to be offered for the living and the dead-for sins, punishments, satis- factions, and other giecessities-let him be accursed." Now with the warrant of the last words, and other necessities," masses in Roman Catholic countries are often celebrated for the most indecent and vulgar pur- poses. Dr Anderson saya that Masses may be secured in early spring for a prosperous season of yeaning for ewes." The Rev. Edward Nangle pledges his veracity to the authenticity of a story that a priest in Ireland was seen in a court-yard celebrating mass for the cows and that this was by no means an isolated instance. The Rev Mr Nolan says that it is a very common thing for masses to be offered in Ireland for the prosperity of horses, lands, cattle, &c., and to remove the sickness and infirmity of decayed cattle." Masses for these pur- poses cost 5s each. Dr Wm. Cunningham has the fol- lowing In Roman Catholic countries, and in Ireland among the rest, the priests make the people believe that by the sacrifice of the mass-that is, by their offering up to God the body and blood ef Christ-they can cure barrenness, heal the diseases of cattle, prevent mildew in grain and much money is every year paid for pro- curing masses to effect these and similar purposes," Then he .adds this scathing remark Men who obtain money in such a way, and upon such pretences (and this is a main source of the income of Popish priests) should be regared and treated as common swindlers." I will just add the words of Prebendary Payne, of Westminster (Dis. on the Mass) The sacrifice of the mass is the most considerable part of worship in the Roman Church it is their juge sacrificium, their daily and continual offering, and the principal thing in which their religion does consist; it is, they tell us, the great- est profit and advantage to all persons, and I am sure their priests make it so to themselves; for by this alone a great many of them get their livings, by making mer- chandise of the holy sacrament, and by selling the blood of Christ at a dearer rate than Judas once did. The saying of masses keeps the Church of Rome more priests in pay than any prince in Christendom can maintain of soldiers and it has raised more money by them than the richest banker or exchequer in the world was ever owner of. It is indeed the truest patrimony of their church, and has enriched it more than anything else it was that which founded their greatest monas- teries and their Abbeys, and it had well-nigh brought all the states of this kingdom into the Church had not the Statute of Mortmain put a check to it," &c. The champion of the Church of Rome in Pontypool waxed hot with indignation because a certain gentleman —immeasurably his superior—said at the lecture that the "genuine article of Rome was very different to the deceptive and alluring counterfeit we have in this country." The statement is a fact notwithstanding; and established upon unquestionable authority. I shall pass by the unscripturalness of celebrating mass in the Latin language, because it necessarily be. comes a performance wholly unintelligible to the com- mon worshipper. Many puerile reasons are assigned for this, but I think the honest Hibernian's reason to be as sensible as one I have seen. Being asked why the mass was celebrated in Latin, he said. "And faith, how can I tviij ie it/ uwuuoc ^cvii u.^>aw* Latin." I shall reserve the Idolatrous Adoration of the Host for another occasion. In taking my leave of the dogma of Transubstanti- ation, I submit that as it involves so many insurmount- able difficulties, being contradictory of the senses, re- pugnant to reason, subversive of scripture, full of para- doxes and hardy asseverations, we might reasonably ex- pect_the_ Church of Rome to have been very modest and sparing in pressing it upon our acceptance. But these difficulties have only made her more determinedly intol- erant of all doubt and denial; and Archbishop Tillotson has called it the burning article." And no doubt the burning article it always was in this country when Rome was dominant. Let us hope those days will never dawn upon our country again. But for not believing the absurdity of Transubstanti- ation and the contradictions and profanity of the Mass, let us not forget that although there is now no power to consign our bodies to the flames, our souls are doom- ed to the bitter pains of everlasting damnation. (Concluded).
A very untortunate method has been adopted tc "rouse" a farmer named Robson, of Darlington, who had lately been suffering from melancholy and could not be persuaded to leave the house. His friends had been advised that a journey and change of air would assuredly shake off the miserable malady which was weighing so heavily upon him, but in spite of their strong entreaties Robson would not leave the place. At last a person in Manchester con- ceived a plan for infusing a little life into the dis- consolate farmer, but the remedy unfortunately turned out worse than the disease. This person sent him a telegram saying that his (Robson's) son, a solicitor in Manchester, had been arrested for debt. It is to be presumed that the object of sending this message, which had not a particle of truth in it, was to bring Robson to Manchester. The effect it produced was about as tragic as could well be imagined. Robson on receiving the telegram cast off his brooding melan- choly, and was transformed into a maniac; refused to be convinced, even by his own son, that the tele- gram was a hoax, and finally cut his throat. A mechanical electric battery is a very useful thing in its way, but a living, breathing, walking battery highly charged with the same subtle and wonderful power is something of a novelty. Such a phenone- non has turned up, or is said to have turned up, in America, in the person of a young lady, nineteen years of age, Caroline Clare. Until a few weeks ago, Miss Clare had been for two years in delicate health, but suddenly she regained her pristine vigour, and with it an extraordinary power which has been pro- ductive of some inconvenience both to herself and friends. She is constantly giving off electric dis- charges, and any person who shakes hands with her experiences a strong electric shock. Another pecu- liarity of her condition is that she possesses all the attraction, of a magnet, and when she takes up a knife the blade jumps into her hand, and if she takes hold of an article or steel she Is unable to get rid of it again, and it has to be pulled from her by force. It is not surprising to learn that Miss Caroline Clare's condition is attracting a good deal of atten- tion. Holloway's Pills.—Sleeplessness, flatulency, acidity, nausea, and all dyspeptic indications may be speedily relieved by these famous Pills, of which large quanti- ties are shipped to all parts of the world. The con- stantly increasing demands for Holloway's medicine proves its power over disease, and its estimation by the public. In weakness of the stomach, in diseases of the liver, and in disorders of the system caused by cold or a sluggish circulation, no medicine is so efficacious, no remedy so rapid, as these Pills, which are altogether in. capable of doing mischief. By quickening digestion, they give refreshing sleep, sharpen the appetite, impart tone to the digestive organs, purify and enrich the blood, regulate the secretions, and strengthen the whole physical frame. THE QUICKEST ATLANTIC P ASSAGE.-The Quebec Chronicle of June 20th rays: The arrival of the Allan Royal Mail Steamer Sardinian, Captain Dutton, from Liverpool, in this port last midnight, is quite an event in the Atlantic steamship trade. For the first time on record, a steamship has arrived in the port of Quebec on the eighth dayjafter leaving Liver- Pool. From an enquiry we find that the Sardinian left Moville at 5.15 p.m. on June 6th, and landed her mails at Rimonski at noon on the 13th, being 6 days 23 hours and 30 minutes, allowing for difference of time. The passage from land to land-Moville to Belle Isle-was accomplished in 5 days 20 minutes, while the passengers only lost sight of land for 4 days 19 hours. Every one who has crossed the Atlantic well knows what the sight of land means to passengers even out on a voyage of only eight or ten days; but in addition to this luxury, there is the vail up the Gulf and River St. Lawrence, a thing worth doing for its own sake. The ^o\irney to the States is easily accomplished by railway from Quebec, taking Niagara by the way. It is something to think of sailing from Europe to America, and only losing sight of land for five days. To persons about to visit America this route recommends itself, at least QIKJ way.
PRAYER-BOOK REFORM. Lord Ebury has introduced into the House of Lords the following bill "to amend the Book oi Common Prayer Whereas attempts have been made to introduce a system of auricular confession and priestly absolution into the Church of England, alien to the doctrine and practice of the said Church, on the alleged ground that such system is authorised by certain passages in the Book of Common Prayer and whereas it is expe- dient to amend the same book in manner hereinaftei mentioned: Be it therefore enacted by the Queen's most Excellent Majesty, by and with the advice and consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal and Commons, in this present Parliament assembled, and by the authority of the same, as follows:— 1. The following amendments shall be made in the Book of Common Prayer:—First. The third rubric in the Morning and Evening Services, which now stands thus: "The absolution or remission of sins, to be pronounced by the priest alone standing the people still kneeling," shall be altered to the follow- ing form "A declaration that God pardoneth peni- ;ent sinners, to be read by the minister alone standing, ;he people still kneeling." Secondly. The last clause n the first exhortation to the celebration of the Holy Jommunion, which now stands thus: "That by the ninistry of God's Holy Word he may receive the )enefit of absolution, together with ghostly counsel md advice to the quieting of his conscience," shall De amended by omitting the words "absolution, ;ogether with." Thirdly. The nineteenth rubric in ;he Communion Service, which now stands thus Then shall the priest (or the bishop, being present) itand up, and turning himself to the people, pro- lounce this absolution," shall be altered to the following form: Then shall the minister (or the rishop being present) stand up, and turning himself ;o the people, say as follows." Fourthly. The Drder of the Visitation of the Sick shall be amended oy omitting the following rubric and absolution: Here shall the sick persons be moved to make a tpecial confession of his sins, if he feel his conscience troubled with any weighty matter; after which con- fession, the priest shall absolve him (if he humbly md heartily desire it) after this sort Our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath left power to His Church tc tbsolve all sinners who truly repent and believe in Iim, of *His great mercy forgive thee thine offences md by His authority committed to me I absolve thee 'rom all thy sins in the name of the Father, and ol he Son, and of the Holy Ghost; Amen." Fifthly. in the Ordination Service for priest, the form which low stands thus "Hocei ve the Holy Ghost for the Iffice and work of a priest in the Church of God now jommitted unto thee by the imposition of our hands vhose sins thou dost forgive they are forgiven, and vhose sins thou dost retain they are retained. And )e thou a faithful dispenser of the Word of God and lis Holy Sacraments in the name of the Father, .nd of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen," shall Ie altered to the following form "Almighty God, tur Heavenly Father, grant unto thee the gift of the loly Ghost for the office and work 01 a priest in the ilhurch of God now committed unto thee by the im- losition of our hands and be thou a faithful dis- )enser of the Word of God and of his Holy Sacrament: n the name of the Father, and of the Son, and ol he Holy Ghost, Amen." Sixthly. The form of consecrating an archbishop or bishop, which now tands thus Receive the Holy Ghost for the office .nd work," shall be altered in like manner, and begin .s follows Almighty God, our Heavenly Father, rant unto thee the gift of the Holy Ghost for the )ffice and work, &c." 2. This act may be cited for all purposes as The Prayer-book Amendment Act, 1879." 3. This Act shall come into operation on the first lay of January one thousand eight hundred and eighty.
SCHOOL BOARD EXPENDITURE. The discussions which are taking place in tho London (school Board as to the truth of the charges brought against its members of having spent the ratepayers 8 money with needless extiavagance, and of using the letter of the Act in opposition to its spirit by overstocking the metropolis and its suburbs with schools, afford instructive reading for all who are interested in the question of elementary educa- tion, and ought to be carefully studied in anticipation of the election in November next. Taken as a whole, the defence has so far been extremely weak, and the supporters of what is known as the Board's policy have been compelled to resort to arguments which involve a totally unfair use of the terms of the Act. That the School Board was entrusted with very ex- traordinary powers is perfectly true, but it by no means followed that they were intended to be used without regard to the pockets of the ratepayers or tha necessities of the case, and yet every speech that is made seems to show that this has been the mischievous course taken by the majority of the Board. There can be no question that, although the Board may have kept within the limits of the Act, it has, as a matter of fact, crushed out the voluntary schools wherever it has been possible to do so, while it ia equally clear that it has in the engagement of its staff adopted a scale of salaries for above what was either needful or legitimate. The Board has in a word, acted with the scantiest possible regard for economy, or for the wishes of those who, while willing to pro- vide for the waifs and strays, were unwilling to, r supply educational luxuries to persons who were able- to pay for them, and this is in effect the charge which the. Board had now to face. Remembering how difficult it necessarily is for persons outside a great office to judge of its administration, the results al- ready attained during th} investigation are satis- factory, and tend to prove that the charges brought against the Board are not simply the result of" dislike to the system. From Birmingham the reporta show how unfairly the Act may be twiiitedto serve the purpose of the secularists, and we commend to our readers attention the details now being pub- lished in the newspapers of the scheme of moral education which the Board is formulating. The country ought steadly to resi-t the adoption of the scheme, and petitions ought to be lodged against what is in reality a plan for teaching School Board religion in the place of Cliristianity.-Pi-ess and St. James's Chronicle.