lest shame and sorrow might induce her to commit some violent act. But we soon saw that our alarm was groundless. The iron had indeed entered into her soul-not to rouse, but to subdue and humble her. She would sit day after day in an upper room, shunning the sight of all her kindred, the tears streaming down her face, engaged in reading the holy Scriptures, or in preparing some little article of dress for the expected infant. Her mother or I used to take her food to her, though it was but little that she ate; and the only occasion on which she appeared amongst us, was when we met for family prayers. But she pined away, and grew weaker and weaker, until at last a premature labour ended her sufferings; and she and her dead infant were buried in one grave. Of all the afflictions which I have endured in life, my daughter's disgrace was by far the bitterest. Sadly would her mother and I talk over our shame and our bereavement; until God's mercy and the dutiful affection of our remaining children gradually effaced the wound from our hearts.

"And so we lived on together many more years, peaceably and contentedly, until it was time for us to part. It is now about seven years since my dear wife died; but she went in such hope and peace, that, deeply as I felt her loss, I thought I had no right to repine. All my children whom God had spared were gone out into the world, except one daughter. After a while she married too; and as I was past doing work, I was afraid I must have gone into the poor-house. But she and her husband said, 'I should never do that, while they could maintain me: it was contrary to law as well as gospel.' So I came to live with them here in the town, and very good they have been to me.

"At last it pleased God to take Sarah's husband, leaving her a widow with three small children. But

God gave her health and strength, and she had pretty regular out-door work, and I got a little now and then. So we managed pretty well, till I was taken ill; and then I do not know what would have become of us, if God had not sent Miss Elizabeth and good Mr. Walton to help us. Since

then we have been very comfortable, and want for nothing. My greatest pleasure is to go to God's house on Sundays, and on week-days after work to hear these children read the Bible. They are very good children," said the old man, patting them on the head; " and I often think that, poor as my lot has been through life, yet, with one or two exceptions, I could scarcely wish them a happier."

CHAPTER X.

MR. WALTON'S OPINION OF THE TRUE DEVELOPMENT OF THE

CHURCH.

I joy, dear mother, when I view
Thy perfect lineaments and hue,
Both sweet and bright:

Beauty in thee takes up her place,

And dates her letters from thy face,

When she doth write.

GEORGE HERBERT. The British Church.

MR. HAMMOND was both pleased and affected by the godly simplicity of the aged Christian, and shook him cordially by the hand, promising to call and see him frequently.

"Old Ambrose will remind us," said he, as they walked homewards, " of the words of the Psalmist: 'I have been young, and now am old, yet never saw I the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread.'

999

"This is the man," said Mr. Walton, "whom your modern philosophers would call a poor ignorant rustic. I never see old Ambrose, whether at his cottage or in his seat at church-I never mark his calm, contented eye, and the holy meekness of his demeanour, without thinking that he will occupy a very high place amongst the saints of heaven. He

is

6 one to whom

Long patience hath such calm composure given,
That patience now doth seem a thing of which

He hath no need.'

There is in his character a humble, yet independent tone of thought a 'poorness of spirit' without a

particle of meanness-a calm contented serenity a deep religious feeling, divested of all the excitement of a heated imagination—which is the privilege of one who has served God from his youth up, and is passing through a quiet life to a peaceful grave."

They paused for a while, and walked on without speaking, each of them deeply impressed with the simple dignity of the character of him with whom they had just conversed. At last Mr. Walton broke the silence, beginning, as usual, to philosophise, and unconsciously drawing his illustrations from the scene around them.

"A country blessed, like England, with an established Church-of course supposing it to be a branch of the true Church,—is like a field in high tillage, which puts up its rich crops of corn in proportion to the pains bestowed on it. The character of old Ambrose is the genuine growth of the English Church, at least as it exists in our rural districts, for in our large towns it is unable, with its present means, to cope with the population. But where the Church has fair play and free development, where its principles are truly carried out, and the population is not so dense as to prevent the ordained pastor from coming into contact with every individual within his fold, there is a continual tendency to the production of intellects more or less approaching to that of old Ambrose—loyal, faithful, peaceable, and intelligent. I have always considered a national establishment to give scope for the most perfect exhibition of the Church of Christ. The Churchsystem is entirely of divine origin, having been established during the lifetime of the apostles. It may be allied with the State or not, according to circumstances; being in itself perfect when unestablished, but deficient in means to cope with the entire population. The evils which have in some

cases resulted from its establishment and connexion with the State are perfectly accidental. The union between Church and State may exist without the least interference in each other's functions; and then I conceive the Church to be most perfect and efficient. Its due operation rests on its triple order of ministry. The bishops have received from the apostles divine authority to superintend and set things in order, and to ordain a continual succession of ministers; the priests receive from them authority to administer the sacraments and ordinances in local districts or parishes; the deacons are appointed to aid them with their ministry. Thus, Christ being the fountain-head, the apostles and ministers of the Church are like so many rills or channels, by which the stream of divine grace is spread over the land. Wheresoever there is a lack of ministers, especially

of any entire order of the ministry, there the land is thirsty and dry. Amongst the Dissenters here in England, and amongst the Presbyterians of Scotland, where they reject the divinely appointed order of bishops, there is an absence of that humble submission to authority, which is so amiable a feature of the Christian character, as developed often in the English Church. There is leaning to their own judgment, and an impatience of control, a want of reverence and godly fear, at variance with the character of the lowly Churchman. If I may so speak, there is piety without holiness; that is to say, though the understanding is imbued with Christian truth, yet there is not that thorough sanctification of the heart which is attained under a sounder system. Corresponding with this spiritual defect, there is a political disaffection to civil government; a democratic, arrogant temper; an anxiety to maintain rights rather than to perform duties. In Prussia, where the government is absolute, the want