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THE FRIENDLY • Anything you like, darling,' said my

poor mother, too ill to heed a word I said, LTHOUGH I am now a and who thought I was making some childvery old woman, I can ish request; "only run away now, and easily recall the mingled don't make such a creaking with the door, feelings of awe, respect,

or my poor head will break.' and terror, with which I Pleased enough at such an unusual regarded the Beadle of thing as going to church alone, I crept our Parish Church. His away, dressed myself, and ran across the

uniform was my great road to the church, not observed even by admiration; his cocked hat, the bright our two maids, and I shut myself up in our brass buttons, and his grand-looking staff, large curtained pew. No one, except the the dread of all the naughty boys in the ringers, was in the church; the beadle, I Sunday School. This would be considered should think, was warming himself by the a very old-fashioned church now, with vestry fire, for he was nowhere to be seen. high square pews, well-curtained and soft- I sat down upon a hassock, and thought cushioned, galleries all round, and the organ how grand it was coming to church all by and choir in the west gallery. But, old-fash- | myself, and how good I would be; then I ioned as it may seem now in these days of re- took up a hymn-book and began to spell out storation, to my youthful eyes it was every- the words: but the time began to seem very thing that was stately and beautiful. In long before the service, my eyelids grew those days people used to come, I am afraid, heavier and heavier, and would not keep rather late to church ; and whilst the choir open ; and at last my head sank down upon was singing the Morning Hymn, with which the soft-cushioned seat, and I fell fast asleep. the morning service always began, the When I awoke the church was quite dark, beadle was bustling about opening pew- the service over, and I was very frightened, doors to various fine ladies and gentlemen, cold, and hungry. Time went on, still no ushering the clergyman from the vestry to one came. I cried, but no one heard me. the reading-desk, and during the intervals I dared not leave the dark pew, which was of duty shaking the grand staff at some like a little home to me, and wander into fidgety school children in the chancel. the wilderness of the church. I cried a long

One snowy winter afternoon my dear time; then I thought, I am in God's house, mother had gone to lie down with a bad He will take care of me:' so I said my little headache; I, a little six-year old girl, was evening prayer. Then a few more tears sitting by the parlour fire with Pilgrim's would come at the thought of my bright, Progress ; father had gone five miles off to cosy nursery, and dear mother, and in his other church, and the curate was going the midst I think I must have fallen to take the afternoon service. The church asleep, for when I next awoke it was broad was close by, and when the bells began to daylight, and the cheerful sunlight was chime I thought to myself it was time to get streaming into the church. This I thought ready to go to the service as usual. So I was a good time for trying the doors, for trotted upstairs and went gently into I did not feel so afraid in broad daylight mother's room.

to leave the pew; so I tried the big door, 'Mother dear, may I go to church?' but in vain; then the sonth door, then the



vestry: all, alas! were fast locked. Just

THE BETTER LAND. as I was returning sadly, and feeling terribly hungry, to my corner in the pew, the I HEAR thee speak of a better land, big door creaked on its hinges, and who Thou call'st its children a happy band; should appear but the beadle, without his

Mother! O where is that radiant shore ? cocked hat or buttons or staff, and in an

Shall we not seek it and weep no more? old every-day working coat!—he had come

Is it where the flower of the orange blows, to see to the cleaning of the church. Why, little miss here !' he cried; they

And the fire-flies glance through the myrtleare hunting you high and low. Your father boughs ? and mother are in a fine way!'

Not there, not there, my child ! And taking my hand the old man hurried

Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, me home to my poor parents, who were in a terrible state of anxiety. With what joy I

And the date grows ripe under sunny skies? was received may well be imagined, for

Or amidst the green islands of glittering every one thought I was lost; no one had

seas, seen me in church, and my dear mother Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, was too ill to catch what I said when I

And strange bright birds on their starry asked her leave to go; and had it not been

wings for my old friend I might have been there

Bear the rich hues of all glorious things? for days, and perhaps starved to death.

Not there, not there, my child! Never again did I look upon the dear old man with terror, nor did his cocked hat and

Is it far away in some region old, brass buttons ever again inspire me with

Where rivers wander o'er sands of gold, awe; but ever after I regarded the Parish

Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, Beadle as one of my best old friends.

M. F.

And the diamond lights up the secret mine,

And the pearl gleams forth from the coral MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE EAST.

strand ?

Is it there, sweet mother, that better land ? TOMBS.

Not there, not there, my child ! T was the custom of the Jews, when any

one died, to wrap the body in linen Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy, grave-clothes, made sweet with spices, to Ear hath not heard its deep song of joy; tie a napkin over the face, and to bury

Dreams cannot picture a world so fair, it very soon. They used no coffin, but

Sorrow and death may not enter there; carried the body to the grave on a bier.

Time doth not breathe on its fadeless The tomb was in some cavern, or a cave

bloom ; hewn out of the rock, and when the dead body was laid in it, the cave was shut up

Beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, with a great stone at its mouth. The

'Tis there, my child ! 'tis there. Pyramids of Egypt are the tombs of Kings

MRS. HEMANS. who were buried within them, in coffins of white marble.


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