there find one who would satisfy the longing desires of his soul. When he came to the Church, he saw no person but a poor, careworn beggar, clothed in tattered garments. He saluted the beggar thus::

"GOD grant that this may be a pleasant morning to thee."

The beggar replied, " Sir, I do not recollect of ever having experienced an unpleasant morning."

"What is this thou sayest?" exclaimed the astonished divine, "I hope that GOD may confer every favour upon you."

The beggar replied, "Sir, God's favours have always been upon

me."

The divine, being much perplexed, and not knowing how to understand the beggar, requested him to explain himself. "That I will, most cheerfully," answered the beggar. You first wished me a pleasant morning. I replied that I had never experienced an unpleasant one, and this is actually the case; for, when I am hungry, I praise God; when I am cold, I praise Him; when it rains or snows, when it thunders and lightens, no matter what kind of weather it is, I always praise the LORD; and this is the reason why I have never experienced an unpleasant morning. You then wished that GOD might confer every favour upon me. To this I replied, that God's favours had always been upon me; and this is also true. For I commit myself into the hands of GOD, and am certain that He does all things for the best. Everything, therefore, that GOD permits to befall me, whether it be sweet or sour, joyful or sorrowful, fortunate or unfortunate, I look upon as intended for my good, and receive it with gratitude; for all things must work together for the good of them that love the LORD."

At the time we first became acquainted with our American representative of Old Mortality, he was suffering from the worst of earthly evils,—the ingratitude of his children. He was then supported by public charity. Yet well do we remember the cheerful tone in which he always answered the ordinary salutation,

"Well, Mr.

how are you to-day?"

"Oh, I'm very well, -I've been well these eighty odd years, I never was sick a day. I'm the happiest creetur alive."

To a lady of the neighbourhood, now, we trust, herself "where there is fulness of joy," he thus explained the secret of his happiness.

Upon her asking him how he could be so happy in this destitute condition, he answered at once,—

'My child, I will tell you the secret. I keep all the time saying to myself, Glory be to the FATHER, and to the Son, and to the HOLY GHOST.' I say it when I lie down, and when I rise up. I say it when I am hungry, as well as when I am full. When any thing happens that would distress me, as soon as ever I say that, why I grow happy at once. I have said those words for eighty

years in Church, and I ought to know them well by this time. If we say those words from the heart, we ought to feel them always. Do you think, my child, that we ought only to feel them when good things happen to us, and not when evil things come, too? No, all things are from GOD, and so, whether good or evil comes, I always say, Glory be,' &c. So I am always happy: yes, I am 'the happiest creetur alive!" "

These were the old man's exact sentiments; perhaps the expressions are somewhat altered, but they have thus only lost force in departing from his simple, earnest, and expressive terms. It has often been a subject of regret, that we did not take down from his own lips more of his practical thoughts upon the true theory of life and happiness. There was more true philosophy in his teachings than ever came from the old masters of the schools.

We have spoken of his love for old Churches. Our own parish Church was an illustration. It was built before the Revolution, and had fallen into decay from long neglect. Our Old Mortality first spent a long time in soliciting subscriptions for it; and then, as he was a mason, took up his abode in its desolate walls, and never left it until the ancient house of God was restored, from ruin and desecration, to its hallowed use.

He also gave stronger evidence of his love for the house of GOD, than this regard for the material building. He lived at the distance of four miles from the Church, and although he had to walk, was a regular attendant. Often have we met him on the road, when his faith and love for the sanctuary strengthened him for a journey, which seemed altogether too much for his decrepitude; and when he was so infirm that it was almost impossible to get him into our vehicle. At a very advanced period of life, he used to walk from thirty to forty miles to attend the meetings of Convention.

He had so great love for everything belonging to the Church, that he was always most anxious to obtain the garments which had been laid aside by the Clergy. His poverty obliged him thus to clothe himself, and he certainly, by this preference, proved his love for old things; as, in general, clerical garments must have seen their best days, and arrived at a respectable antiquity, before they can be put aside. “Old Mortality was especially happy when he could obtain episcopal robes, i. e., of the every-day sort. We remember the gleam of sublunary joy which passed over his timeworn face, when he once told us that all his clothes, except the shoes, had belonged to various Bishops. Certainly the satisfaction was not occasioned by the exactness of the fit, as our Bishops do not all agree in size, and he had not been particularly lucky in securing this uniformity. However, such diversities were of small account with Old Mortality, and he said, "If I had only a Bishop's shoes my dress would be complete."

There was one question, and we believe almost the only one,

which disturbed his mind. He felt a difficulty in determining "who should preach his funeral." We had the honour of being a rival in this expected office with the Rector of the parish, in whose sweet and quiet churchyard the ashes of many of our old friend's relatives were resting. This question never was settled, as he went to spend his last days with one of his children, far away from the spot where he had expected to lie down in peace, when life's weariness should be exchanged for the rest that remaineth for the people of GOD.

We have made this simple record, in the humble hope that it may illustrate the blessedness with which Christian contentment lights up the darkest paths of earthly adversity. The cold earth may hide its wealth from us; but faith reveals the bright treasures of heaven to enrich our poverty, and love, in its guileless simplicity, wins the trusting heart to feel no present need in the view of the promised inheritance. If Christians realised the worth of their future heritage, and trusted in its sure possession, each one could adopt the language of our ancient friend, and say at all times 'I am the happiest creature alive."-Banner of the Cross.

66

Yet oft, 'mid all the splendour

That riches can command,
A mournful mood comes o'er her
That few can understand.

"Hath an evil eye looked on her?"

The maidens ask apart,
And what hath chill'd the bounding
Of that young and joyous heart?

"Nay, but if we were like her,

Right merrily we'd live ! We would not lack a pleasure

This sunny world can give !"

For they know not that their mistress,

With all that gold can buy, Hath a yearning void within her, Earth cannot satisfy.

Anon she wanders lonely,

In Daphne's myrtle grove,
And the flow'rets smile a welcome
Where'er her footsteps rove.

The birds are singing blithely,
The waters laugh in light,
And all around her seemeth
To gladness to invite.

Yet as though she thought to revel
In wantonness of grief,

'Mid Earth's wealth of flowers she
saddens

O'er a rose's faded leaf.

She twines a votive garland,
And when the work is wrought,

"Why pluck the flowers to wither?"
She answers to her thought.
"Already falls the shadow

O'er their brightness and their
bloom,

And a faintness stealeth o'er me
From the gathered flowers' per-
fume !"

In Daphne's stately temple,
Before Apollo's shrine,

The Priest's fair daughter bends her
As to somewhat of Divine.

But the chisell'd form is breathless,
And no response is given
To the thoughts that seek an answer
From the far-off height of heaven.

She looketh from her lattice

In the marvel of the night, And she asketh if there be not Some world of joy and light.

"A world where flowers are fadeless,

And where lov'd ones never die, And art thou there, my mother?" She asketh with a sigh.

For she thinketh of Ianthe,

In her beauty snatched away, When her little one, unconscious, On another's bosom lay;

And a sad and shrouded phantom
From the mother's marble tomb,
Haunts her daughter's thoughtful
springtide

With its mystery of gloom.

Church News.

CONSECRATION OF BISHOP SMITH AND BISHOP ANDERSON AT CANTERBURY.

NOT many of our readers, we dare say, have ever been present at an Ordination of Priests and Deacons. Very few can have had the privilege of joining in that solemn service, in which a Christian Bishop receives his commission in the spirit and power of the Apostles to preside over some portion of the LORD's vineyard. It is much to be desired, that every congregation should have the opportunity of witnessing* at least the

* It was the primitive custom to consecrate a new Bishop in the presence of the people for whom he was ordained.-Bingham's Antiq., II., 16 § 15.

way in which its own minister is endued with authority to forgive or retain sins, and to dispense the Word and Sacraments of CHRIST to his flock. Having seen with their own eyes his investiture with these awful powers, how much more ready would they be to yield due reverence to their spiritual pastor! And what a seriousness would it throw over all his intercourse with them—what a strength would it supply to him in the hour of trial—to remember that they who observe his actions now were present then, and heard him bind himself with those solemn vows and promises before Almighty GOD!

Meanwhile, until such opportunities are more frequently given to the laity, most persons must form the best notion they can of an Ordination and a Consecration from the reports of eye-witnesses, and from the Offices in our Prayer-book.

Last Whitsun Tuesday (May 29th) was rendered memorable in the annals of our Church by the Consecration at Canterbury of two Prelates for the widely-distant Bishoprics of Victoria (China) and Prince Rupert's Land (North America.) The ancient metropolitan city had not witnessed a ceremony of this kind for nearly three hundred years.* Perhaps never during that time have the walls of the venerable Cathedral held so large a congregation as met together on this day, to pray for and with the two missionaries who were going forth from that time-hallowed spot to plant branches of our communion in the far East and West.

On the preceding Monday, numbers of visitors flocked to Canterbury; several of whom (including the Bishops-designate, Dr. Smith and Dr. Anderson) found a hospitable welcome within the newly-restored Missionary College of S. Augustine. The College chapel is a well-known monument of the wealth, good taste, and piety of Mr. A. J. B. Hope. And here on Monday, at 10 o'clock, P.M., the guests met together at Evening Prayers. It seemed to many a happy omen, that the ordinary Psalms and Lessons for the day were as strikingly appropriate as any that could have been chosen for the vigil of the consecration of a missionary Bishop (Ps. cxxxvii.-cxxxix.; Num. xi.; and 1 Cor. xiv.) There were to be seen the young students of the College, who are being trained for the Church's service in foreign lands, under the wardenship of an aged Missionary, Bishop Coleridge, by whom the Prayers were said on this occasion. And we could not help thinking of the venerable Patriarch of old who "commanded his children and his household after him," (Gen. xviii. 19,) when we saw the family and domestic servants of the Bishop come in and take their assigned places: a sight but too rare in a College chapel, and which

* Bishop Courtis was consecrated at Canterbury in 1570.