gold shines like the new moon in his hand, for a sunbeam coming through the oak boughs has touched it. Others carry garlands of oak leaves-holy things in their eyes. Amongst yonder rocks are the dim caves in which many of the Druids dwell. The acorns and berries of the wood, and the clear water from the brook, suffice them for their daily meal. Look well at their grave features and thoughtful eyes, and you may read that they have more wisdom than the common people. They have travelled in other lands than Britain, and they know more than they care to teach all men, so they rule and guide the country nearly as they will. They perhaps believe in one God, the Lord of heaven and earth, and they build no ceiled houses for him. In the shadows of the woods, and within circles of rude stones, they worship him, yet they suffer the people whom they teach to serve and fear many gods, and to believe strange fables. The Druids are wise, it may be, with much of the wisdom of this world, but holy and good they cannot be. Watch them as they pass, two and two, amongst the forest trees, and follow in their path.

We come to an open plain, not very wide, but green and flowery, skirted by low hills covered with woods, and in the midst is one of those great circles of which I was speaking, with a deep trench or ditch around it, and a bank of earth thrown up beyond. Huge grey stones form the ring, and rise high above the heads of the Druids as they enter by an avenue or winding way, marked out by great stones of the same kind on either hand. Those in the ring are placed far apart, with others laid across them above, making a vast open fence, which the common people may not pass. There is a rude stone table in the midst-a kind of altar, and a hearth-for there cruel sacrifices are offered-sometimes the prisoners taken in war; but I do not care to talk much about these things. Multitudes of the Britons are gathering without the ring, and they see what is passing within, though they may not draw very near. The Druids will

watch the blood of the wounded sacrifice as it flows on the altar, and by the path that it takes, the savage people around will be guided!

The multitudes have departed to their homes, and the Druids alone remain within the great circle: the sun, too, is gone, but the stars are bright in the open sky above, and the flame looks very dim that flickers on the altar hearth. Coiled near, in the shelter of the great stones that make the altar, you may see a serpent, brought, perhaps, from some far-off land, for it is larger than the snakes of Britain.

The Druids stand around the rugged stones, but their eyes are fixed on the eastern sky. One of the youngest of the band takes the harp, and the brows of the elders darken while he sings

The flame on the hearth, the flame that we kindled is dim. The wind of the seas shall arise, it shall come with the wings of the mighty, and the ashes shall be swept from the hearth: by the breath of the waters they shall be swept.

The flame shall be quenched in the night. In the darkness we shall sit: weeping alone shall we sit; but the stars that are many shall be bright, the wind of the forest shall not breathe on them, the waters of the sea, of the mighty sea, shall not quench them.

We will look on the skies of the night: when the stars are abroad we will look. Toward the east shall our eyes be uplifted; and a star that we know not shall arise. It shall shine on the seas and the hills; through the gloom of the woods, of the ancient woods, it shall shine; and the land shall be bright where the darkness was thick, and the dwellings of the people shall be bright.

O star, that we knew not, arise! Arise, and shine upon the hills, on the dark waters arise, in the darkness of the woods give thy light! Arise, O star that we knew not!

Thus, dear children, I have dreamed for you a dream of days that are long gone by. Such, so far as I am able to learn, was our country when the Roman set foot on the shore. Some of the Britons were wiser and better clad than their brethren, but all of them were such as we may well call savages, except the Druids, the priests and wise men of whom I have told you; much of their knowledge they kept for their own use, and even this knowledge was dim compared with our own. youngest amongst you knows more about that star in the east, which it may be they had heard should one day be seen, and of which, perhaps, they now and then thought, and now and then darkly sang, than the wisest and mightiest of their brotherhood.

The

Think of this when you pass in peace the church

porches of our quiet English villages; think of this whenever you enter the house of God, perhaps with idle thoughts in your hearts, and idle words upon your lips remember the circles of stone within which the Druids worshipped, and be thankful-yes, be thankful, and remember that for every idle word an account must one day be rendered-how much more for the thoughts that are often worse than the idle words! Oh! take heed that little half-clad children, who lived in times of which I have been telling, do not rise up in the judgment-day and condemn you; inasmuch as in their hearing no man ever read the blessed words-"Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not."

H.T.

MARY'S GLEANINGS.

No. III.

How generally do the people of God emulate the children of this world in seeking the honour that cometh of man! How they delight to shine among each other in rival brilliancy, rather than to cast the beams of spiritual knowledge on those who are yet in darkness! If all that originates in worldly views, and vain-glorious feelings, were subtracted from the teaching, the writings, the converse, nay, the very prayers of serious professors, how would the most prominent sink into the shade of obscurity, and the eloquent lip close in silence! When the Lord looks into the hearts of those who assemble in his name, is it not wonderful that he bears with them so long! Do not pride, envy, impatience, and mutual contempt, often sink within the platter so carefully cleansed and polished without? and though these things should be felt, and secretly mourned over, are the efforts to overcome them commensurate with the importance of the conquest? Even the most profitable Christian society has its snares, and they may prove the more perilous from being less looked for. Loving the praise of men more than the praise of God, is a temptation from the danger of which our carnal natures are never totally

free, and, as a besetting_sin, it ought to be guarded against with increased vigilance.

A life of usefulness alone can be a life of happiness; and every human being has the power of being useful in some way or other according to his circumstances and natural capability. No one can be exempt from the duty of loving and serving his fellow-creatures, even if a blight should be upon all his endeavours; because that duty is one which we owe to a Being of infinitely higher authority than man, and is strictly enjoined in the Holy Scriptures as a test of our obedience and faith. It is by looking too much to the effect of good endeavours, by expecting too immediate an evidence of our usefulness on earth, that many persons are discouraged and thrown back into stupor and despondency, forgetting that He who has appointed our task has bestowed blessing upon the performance of it, by making us happy in the use of the means, while he reserves to himself the mystery of the end. Thus, there can be no disappointment attendant upon the services of a humble Christian, because, whatever he may have sacrificed, or lost, or suffered, he has still been faithful to his heavenly Master, and in that faithfulness itself-not in its effect upon others-is the only sure and lasting happiness which this world can afford.

We sometimes marvel when our benefactions are coldly, ungratefully received, and grumble at the misapplication of what we think should purchase for us the love and fealty of our fellows. To find we have been kind to the unthankful and the evil is generally a matter of regret rather than of rejoicing; because we really seem to believe that our Lord was exhorting us to do impracticable or irrational things, when he bade us resemble our Father which is in heaven. Something must be wrong in our usual conception of divine truths: we have all a great deal to unlearn before we can become obedient disciples of our infallible Teacher; before we can really do things as unto the Lord, and not unto men. May the Holy Spirit quicken us to a diligent and prayerful self-examination on this neglected point!

PRACTICAL CHRISTIANITY.

WHEN one meets with a blessed specimen of practical, experimental Christianity in the lower walks of life, it is impossible not to feel a longing desire that there were more such characters: and why should not useful Christians be more abundant in the world? There is nothing to prevent it but human selfishness and depravity. The grace of God is all-sufficient: his word shews what he expects from all who profess to be his followers; no rank or condition of life is exempt from the responsibility in which that word places them, as stewards, entrusted with their Master's property-as servants, bound to do his work. With all, grace is expected to be like leaven, of a diffusive character-like a candle set on a candlestick, giving light to others. And experience proves, that Christians in the humblest stations of life may and can glorify their Father which is in heaven by putting forth a holy influence upon others.

See what a humble country schoolmaster can do in the instance of good old Davies, near Chepstow, who for about half a century has not only glorified God in his immediate calling, but been the means of getting churches built, schools, &c. in his neighbourhood, and of extensively promoting Missionary and other religious institutions. Why should not all schoolmasters be like him?

And may not even little scholars be influential? It was only yesterday that a clergyman, who is with me, from London, related the following anecdote: A poor man, in London, was told that he was dying. He was urged to pray. He knew not how to set about it. He asked them to give him " Moore's Almanack," that he might see if that would say any thing on the subject. His little daughter, hearing this, went up to her mother, and asked if she might go for her Sunday-school Teacher, as she was sure he would help her poor father best. Leave was given. The Teacher gladly came, and was the means of leading the poor dying man to the knowledge of Him who is the way, the truth, and the life.

Why should not all Sunday-scholars not only get good themselves, but be the means of good to others?