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glimpse of the gilded domes and airy pinnacles of the far-away City even when, over the grey hills, faint traces were observed of objects which shewed like distant edifices, the beholder was left in doubt whether that upon which his eye rested were substance, or the spectral illusion of an unreal vision. Yet, even at such times as the towers of the distant City were more distinctly visible to men's eyes, it was strange, that upon the young warrior's shield, when turned westward, no reflection could be discerned save that of a fearful darkness, broken only by the passing to and fro of horrible shapes.

The young Knight had stood long upon the battlements of the Castle, watching the drifting vapours and the rapid shadows they threw over the valleys beneath, when his eye was attracted by dense clouds of dust which rose from among the westward hllls. The sun at that instant burst forth in unclouded brilliancy; and his light was flashed back from innumerable bright points which glittered like sparks of fire as the wind blew aside for a few moments the heavy dust-wreaths. It was the march of a vast army. Onward it pressed spear and helmet, sword and shield, glancing nearer and brighter every moment. Banner and pennon, gorgeous in hue and heavy with gold, were now plainly discernible above the heads of the multitude, whose cries, shouts, and laughter, and the neighings of their war-horses, swelled wildly and fitfully upon the sweeping wind.

Onward came the mighty host-a gay and gallant sight; prancing steed and stalwart rider, snowy turban and crimson robe, flashing weapon and polished corslet, mingling together in dazzling confusion. Onward-rapidly onward, the torrent poured along; nor drew bridle till the foremost troop halted upon the plain below the Fortress, at about an arrow's flight from the walls. Then Getaufte might see that in the front rank there rode, mounted upon a superb coal-black charger, a stately Lady, sumptuously attired, and crowned with a golden tiara, rich with jewels, sparkling in the sunlight. Far, broad, and wide, did that huge army spread over the level plain: snowy tent and splendid pavilion arose, as with the stroke of an enchanter's wand beneath the hands of countless artificers; the ringing sound of their blows was heard distinctly by the watchers on the castlewalls, and in the centre of the host, above a magnificent pavilion whose curtains were of purple and gold, floated the gorgeous Banner of the Lady who was the Queen and mistress of the host. It was manifest that the form of the young Knight was visible to the army thus encamping before his Castle-walls: with slow and stately step a herald advanced from the front of the great army, attended by one who blew from a trumpet a blast that rang loudly and shrilly through the wide plain.

When the herald had approached near enough for speech, Getaufte accosted him from the battlements, and demanded of him why that seemingly hostile array was drawn up before the walls of his Častle.

"I summon thee, and the other dwellers within this fortress, to surrender the same to the high and puissante Queen of the World,”

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answernd the herald, "ere the sun shall have sunk behind yonder hills."

"And what if we shall refuse your demand ?" asked the Knight.

The herald pointed, with a scornful laugh, to the vast host behind him. "It is not difficult to divine, young Sir," replied he; "the fragments of your castle, razed from foundation-stone to turret, will be a sufficiently intelligible answer."

"Tell your sovereign mistress," said Getaufte, "that I may never yield this Castle to her or her allies; I have sworn to do battle with her and with them to the death: they are more and mightier who are with me than those that be with her. I bid thee carry her my mortal defiance. There lieth my gage of battle!" Thus speaking, the Knight flung down before the herald his glove of mail. The herald raised it, waved it in the air, and with a low mocking obeisance, assured the young warrior that he would find his assailants in nowise backward to accept his defiance: he then returned to the front rank of the mighty cavalcade who were arranging themselves in battle array before the Castle-walls.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

Hymn to the Trinity.

(Copyright.)

MARIA TIDDEMAN.

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O GOD of life, Whose power benign, Doth o'er the world in

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mercy shine, Accept our praise, for we are Thine. Amen.

O Father, uncreated LORD,

Be Thou in every land adored;

Be Thou by all with faith implored.

O SON of GOD, for sinners slain,

We bless Thee, LORD, whose dying pain
For us did endless life regain.

O HOLY GHOST, Whose guardian care
Doth us for heavenly joys prepare,
May we in Thy communion share.

O Holy blessed TRINITY,

With faith we sinners bow to Thee,
In us O GOD, exalted be. Amen.

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saints in glory stand, Bright, bright as day. Oh, how they sweetly sing,

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Worthy is our Saviour King, Loud let His praises ring- Praise, praise for aye.

2 Come to this happy land,

Come, come away;

Why will ye doubting stand ?-
Why still delay ?

Oh, we shall happy be,

When from sin and sorrow free,
Lord, we shall live with Thee!
Blest, blest for aye.

3

Bright in that happy land,

Beams every eye

Kept by a Father's hand,
Love cannot die.

On then to glory run;

Be a crown and kingdom won;
And bright above the sun

We reign for aye.

Books under Notice for Review.

"THE BOOK OF PRAISE." Sir H. Roundell Palmer. Macmillan, London and Cambridge.

"BP. COLENSO, ON THE PENTATEUCH."

"REPORT OP THE TITHE REDEMPTION TRUST." Rivingtons, London.

Books intended for Review should be addressed (prepaid), "The Editor,

care of Mr. W. R. Bowden, Holywell-Street, Oxford.

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"One sentence he uttered which I hope never to forget. It taught us the sole remedy against rebellious thoughts." "L'humilite s' interdit les pourquoi."

Like the rest of his fellow mortals, William Stourton found his life was not exempt from trials and difficulties. He had thought himself especially fortunate in becoming Curate to so agreeable and kind-hearted a man as Mr. Leslie; but, before many weeks had elapsed, he would willingly have bartered a little of his Rector's good nature for something more akin to asperity, provided only there was coupled with it a certain proportion of zealous energy.

Is there any thing much harder to bear than the pain which the young and enthusiastic are required to endure, perhaps in unmurmuring quietness, from the imperturbable calmness of those in authority over them; who have either outlived the ardour of youth, and forgotten the important aspect in which those things they wished once to accomplish appeared to their young imaginations; or are by nature of a calm quiescent temperament, which, taking both sides of a question into cool consideration, prefers to remain in "Statu quo," rather than encounter the troubles or possible inconveniences of alteration and amendment.

Mr. Leslie was what people call, of the "old school." New plans, new methods, new ideas, about the right mode in which a parish should "be worked," he heard talked of on all sides, but without giving much heed to what was said. "Chimerical notions, most of them, likely to do more harm than good," he thought; and when

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on one or two occasions William, in all the fullness of his heart, spoke with warmth of his desire to try some plan which he believed would be very beneficial among the working classes, or ignorant poor of the parish, Mr. Leslie treated him almost as though he were a child, full of unpractical fancies. It was impossible to infuse any of the same spirit that animated the Curate into the Rector, who could not be brought to see things in the newer light in which they appeared to the former, and who seemed to fear that William was too much inclined to be a mere dreamer and proposer of novelties. Mr. Leslie checked him, gently it is true, but the check was none the less effectual, and William felt like a man walking with a chain round him, whose weight most unpleasantly impeded his onward progress.

"Here am I," said he to himself one night, as he paced his little sitting room, "unable to do half the good I might. My hands are positively tied. I begin to think Miss Dacre was right! If Mr. Leslie had to complain of my idleness, or want of interest in my work, it would be perfectly intelligible; but this-this is quite another thing, utterly incomprehensible, it seems to me. He positively prevents my working. He damps my energies, he thwarts my best endeavours, he allows me no scope whatever." And in this way he talked, partly aloud, partly to himself, chafing under the yoke, irritated by bit and bridle. At last he came to a wise conclusion, he determined on saying nothing more to Mr. Leslie that could possibly alarm him, but for the next six months to work as best he might, according to the old routine followed by the former curates; " and then," he thought to himself, "when my most respectable old rector knows me better, and has had time to prove me, he may, if I turn out to be of the right sort of stuff, listen to what I have to suggest with greater confidence in me, and give me permission to try some one at least of my plans."

With this resolve he succeeded in calming himself, and he kept his resolution with most praiseworthy determination. It was not very easy work, however, to submit to what appeared to him such a tame and worn-out mode of procedure as that approved by Mr. Leslie; but, no doubt, the self-control and self-restraint involved in so doing were useful to him, and tended to strengthen his moral nature. He was learning to master himself in endeavouring to submit patiently to the will of another. And meantime his judgment was gaining strength from experience, and on many occasions he could see how much too hasty he would have been if he had been permitted to act on his own responsibility.

Thus a good work, it is to be hoped, was being done, in and for him, although he was at present debarred from taking the active part he wished. Like Milton, whose blindness prevented his employing his talents as otherwise he might have done, William might reflect that

"They also serve who only stand and wait."

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