somely for the accommodation, and the vast sums they paid were advantageously laid out. In this way Black Pots was saved from the ruthless and destructive invasion with which it was threatened. It lies just below the arch where the railway spans the river, and where its shrill scream of triumph is constantly heard by the peaceful inhabitants. Nevertheless, I think Black Pots must look prettier now than ever it did. Beyond the Eton Playing Fields you get into a secluded path, and by the side of this path is a stile. It is just like the stile which the Pilgrim took, and which led him into the grounds of Doubting Castle. You go over this ground and through a wilderness of willows, and so to the iron gates which guard the domain. You find yourself on an island or ait of the Thames. The neat modern house, the smooth-shaven lands, the fine trees shadowing the turf and willows bending over the water, the stationary boats and punts, make up as pleasing a picture of the refined cultured beauty of the nineteenth century as Sir Henry Wotton and old Walton could have furnished of the seventeenth. The proprietor at the time of our visit, who holds under Eton College, leased the river rights from the corporation of Windsor, and jealously maintained them against vagrant anglers. We have been more particular in tracing with some exactness the story of this locality, so interesting in relation both to Wotton and Walton, as Mr. Jesse, in his contribution on the subject to Sir Harris Nicholas's magnificent edition of Walton, leaves the narrative very imperfect. We have been unable to find any foundation for the ingenious theory of the summer-house painted by Verrio for Charles II having ever occupied the site. Mr. Murray's editor quotes the lines "Methinks I see our mighty monarch stand, The pliant rod now trembling in his hand And see he now doth up from Datchet come, Laden with spoils of slaughtered gudgeon, home "which he attributes to Pope. We think he would find it very difficult to produce the lines in any good edition of Pope. As a matter of fact they were written by Lord Rochester. written at such an age than for anything else. He was buried at Winchester, and there is a poetical inscription to his memory full of love towards him, but which would scarcely deserve quotation. The following extracts from Izaak Walton's will, on the other hand, will be found full of interest. The whole document is interesting, but our space compels us to abridge. The vein of piety, tenderness, and quaintness is found even here. "I, Izaak Walton the elder, of Winchester, being this present day in the ninetyeth year of my age and in perfect memory, for which praised be God, but considering how suddainly I may be deprived of both, do therefore make this my last will and testament as followeth: And first, I do declare my belief to be, that there is only one God, who hath made the whole world and me and all mankind, to whom I shall give an account of all my actions, which are not to be justified, but I hope pardoned, for the merits of my Saviour Jesus. What money or rent shall remain undisposed of, shall be imployed to buy coals for some poor people, that shall most need them in the said town [of Stafford]; the said coals to be delivered the first week in January, or in every first week in February; I say then, because I take that time to be the hardest and most pinching time with poor people; and God reward them that shall do this without partialitie and with honesty and a good conscience. To my son Izaak, I give Dr. Sibbs his 'Soul's Conflict;' and to my daughter his Bruised Reed,' desiring them to read them so as to be well acquainted with them. I give to Dr. Hawkins, Doctor Donne's Sermons, which I have heard preached and read with much content. To my son Izaak, I give all my books, not yet given, at Farnham Castell, and a deske of prints and pictures; also a cabinet near my bed's head; in which are some little things that he will value, though of no great worth. And my will and desire is that he will be kind to his aunt Beachame, and his aunt Rose Ken, by allowing the first about fifty shillings a year, in or for bacon or cheese, not more, and paying four pounds a year towards the boarding of her son's dyet to Mr. John Whitehead; for his aunt Keats, I desire him to be kind to her, according to her necessities and his own abilitie, and I commend one of her children, to breed up as I have said I intend to do, if he shall be able to do it, as I know he will; for they be good folke. I desire my burial may be near the place of my death, and free from any ostentation or charge, but privately.' We must now return once more to the personal history of Izaak Walton. He resided at Clerkenwell until the death of his wife. A friend has informed us of an entry in the parish register of St. James's, which has escaped the vigilant eye of Sir Harris Nicholas, to the effect that in such a year Izaak Walton quitted the parish. For the remainder of his days he resided with good Bishop Morley, at Winchester. It was, as we have seen, beneath the roof of Bishop Morley that he wrote his Lives of Hooker and Herbert. It is pleasant to think of the good old man in the learned seclusion of the episcopal library, or meditating in the sunshine amid the gnarled oaks and beeches of Farnham Park. In his eighty-third year, at an age which he says might have procured him a writ of ease, he composed his Life of Sanderson. We have also an interesting mention of him in relation to the Great Fire, when he claimed, and was assigned under the usual conditions, the site of his messuage which had been burnt down. It appears also that he collected materials for a "Life of Hales," which, however, was never completed, and probably hardly touched. At the age of ninety he published a pastoral poem, "Thealma and Clearchus," more remarkable for having beon Christians. It will be unnecessary to discuss critically the literary genius of Walton. There never was a case in which an author and his writings were so thoroughly identified. All men have spoken all good things of him; except, indeed, some anglers who have with amusing anger denied the scientific character of his fishing, and other some who have loaded his text with commentary. But what we most admire in Walton is the most true though thin vein of originality, the sweetness and goodness and perfect naturalness, of all he wrote, that cheerful piety and that serene wit. It must have been by a most rare union of intellectual and moral qualities that the humble tradesman became the meet associate of whatever was highest in character and rank in his own time, has been celebrated by the greatest poets of our own, and loved with a peculiar personal affection by all who are both good anglers and good F. A. IT MATTHEW MORRISON: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. CHAPTER XIII.-I AM LICENSED. T was an agitating time that to me when I was on my trials before the presbytery. My heart was in my mouth, as the saying is, during the whole period of my examination. I got a bad turn at the very beginning by one of the members starting a doubt as to my being of fitting age for taking on me the office of the ministry; and though I soon set that point at rest, it disturbed my mind, for, to tell the truth, the juvenility of my appearance was a subject on which I was rather tender. I had, according to rule, to read a portion of two discourses before the presbytery, that they might judge of my gifts and doctrine. This was not so trying, however, as praying extempore before such a learned and grave assemblage, many of them not only venerable fathers of the kirk, but the most eloquent preachers therein, for the towns always lick up the best of everything. My discourses were pronounced solid and evangelical, and "happily free," as one member-I think it was Sir Henry Moncrieff, father of the present Lord of Session of that name--remarked, "from that profusion of metaphor which young preachers often mistake for eloquence." So they licensed me to preach the word like my father before me; and with a relieved and, I trust, solemnised spirit, I left the presbytery court to carry the tidings to my mother and the Carrutherses. mother a troubled farewell till Monday. She would not appear otherwise than cheerful, and she followed me to the stair-head, patting my back encouragingly and bidding me take heart. Nelly, too, came after me, and again and again she bade me look on the "folk in the kirk as sae mony kailstocks. I hae heard," she said, "that auld Mr. Router of Keltieand he was a minister that was weel respected in the country used aye to gie that advice to young preachers." It was not so easy to practise, however; and truly it must be an extraordinary imagination that can transform a congregation of thinking men and women into the semblance of green kail. It may be successful with some, but it altogether failed with me, as I experienced to my sorrow. Kirkland was a good stretch from town; it was a pleasant-lying place, and I had often walked there and back on Saturdays with Mr. Meggat. I was too anxious about the morrow to enjoy my present walk. It was a March afternoon-pretty sharp and breezy, compelling one to step out briskly. I calcu lated on arriving about the manse tea-time, just before dusk. The minister was a widower, with three grown-up daughters, of whom I had heard some alarming things within the last few days. I was told that But a still greater trial lay before me, namely, they were each more or less of the order of blue preaching without the paper in public. It was for- stockings, and that on account of their satirical promidable enough to face the presbytery, where each pensities they were much dreaded by young preachers, member was rendered more or less tolerant by the who could hardly be got to preach for their father remembrance of his own first experiences; yet what even for payment. But for my unfortunate shyness was that to standing up in a pulpit, and preaching in company, I might have learned this earlier and from memory before a whole congregation, every eye avoided the danger. It was now too late. Truly it of which would be concentrated upon me? My was a pleasant prospect for me to have to preach my heart begins to throb as of old when I recall it. It first sermon before such pretentious misses, and I is true I had had some little practice already, for deeply regretted having been so facile as to engage during the last year of my divinity course I had been myself to Mr. Balbirnie. But we had met at Mr. in the habit of rehearsing the discourses I had begun Kemp's on the day after I was licensed, and he had to write to my mother and the Carrutherses, hoping so insisted in his kind but overbearing way that I thus to acquire confidence; and truly, though the should preach my first sermon to his people, that smallest, they were the most attentive congregation there was nothing for it but to acquiesce. I ever had. But what a difference between partial friends and strangers! It was arranged that I was to preach my maiden sermon in a kirk a few miles from town. It was a small country congregation there, and therefore I trusted to get through the duties of the pulpit with tolerable composure. I committed my discourse most carefully to memory during the previous week, being at it early and late, and repeating it both to my mother and the Carrutherses, who all did their best to encourage me, although they only partially succeeded-I having hot and cold fits by turns, though the cold predominated. The coming Sabbath was seldom out of my head. If for a minute my thoughts were diverted from it, it came back like a stab through my heart the next; and, indeed, I wonder that my fears did not altogether incapacitate me for fulfilling my engagement. Mr. Balbirnie, the minister for whom I was to officiate, had invited me to come to Kirkland manse on the Saturday evening; so on the afternoon of that day, having put the important sermon and a clean shirt and neckcloth into my pocket, I bade my It was near six o'clock and growing dusk when I reached the village which contained the manse and kirk. It was a bit small town of one row of cottages, with a brawling burn at the back of them which turned a mill. It was most appropriately called Mossy Mill, for the thatched roof was very green; so were some huge twisted roots and trunks of trees that sprung from the steep ivied bank that overhung the inill, and all around was— 'Green, and mossy, and watery," as some poet says. Painters, I am told, have often made pictures of that mill, and of the little footbridge beside it. It must be a cool, shady place on a warm summer day, but I should not be surprised to hear that the miller suffers from rheumatism. The manse was situated at the far end of the village, separated from it only by a neat swing gate and a graveled walk. It had recently been enlarged. and was now unusually roomy and commodious for a manse; but the minister was wealthy, and could afford to keep it up. The kirk and burial-ground were on the opposite side of the road, the two gate: nearly fronting each other. The kirk was very old, and had evidently been built in Popish times, for there was an unusual profusion of ornament about the stonework for a Presbyterian kirk. There was also a finely-executed coat-of-arms above the entrance to a grewsome family vault outside the building; and such numbers of skulls and crossbones, hour-glasses, and puffy cherubims on the gravestones, I have never seen in any other kirkyard except Tranent. As I approached the manse I felt very nervous at the prospect of meeting the minister's daughters. He himself was of a very genial temperament, and was considered remarkably hospitable. The servant who opened the door to me told me that the family were just sitting down to tea, and to my great relief the minister came into the lobby, and giving me a hearty welcome, led me into the dining-room, where his three daughters were seated at the tea-table. "You have never seen my lassies before, I think, Mr. Morrison," said he, jocosely; "this is Jean, the eldest, my housekeeper," denoting the one who was making the tea, and who was a sonsy-like lass, very like her father; "this is Pris, my second, who, as you are new off the irons, will tackle you with Latin and Greek if you like; and this is Peg, my youngest, who writes poetry." The two youngest misses drew up their heads and looked saucy enough at this unceremonious introduction to the preacher, who in many manses is regarded as a very insignificant individual to whom little attention is due. There are bright exceptions to this rule, however, as many a bashful inexperienced lad has found. No one of them offered to shake hands with me; to be sure, the eldest had the teapot in hers at the time. Miss Pris, as her father called her, examined me, I was conscious, somewhat superciliously. "You are so odd, papa," she said, sharply; "why do you call us by such horrid names?" "Horrid names, Miss Pris! Well, then, Miss Balbirnie, Miss Priscilla-Scripture name, Mr. Morrison-and Miss Margaret Balbirnie, known only to her friends, however, by the name of Peg. Anything for a quiet life, Mr. Morrison." I tried to smile as was expected, but felt constrained and uncomfortable, being very deficient in that species of humour which distinguished the minister, and, indeed, unable to appreciate it in others. He was very jocular during tea-time, though I thought his geniality had somewhat too much of patronage in it. He was evidently proud of his daughters, and desirous of showing off their gifts before the stranger, more perhaps than was altogether becoming or hospitable. I was afraid to open my lips in their presence, they made such a parade of their knowledge. I could not help mentally contrasting them with Jeanie Carruthers, and thinking that her modest retiring ways and simple acquirements made her a more useful and womanly creature than these learned misses. Knowledge, no doubt, is a valuable thing; but surely a woman loses more than she gains if she sacrifices the gentleness and diffidence natural to her sex for the possession of it. Most of the learned women I have met with singularly wanted ballast; were bad managers; slatternly in their persons; and generally kept ill-redd-up houses; and if that is not a striking commentary on the subject, I know not what is. But truly, I suspected that the learning of the Miss Balbirnies was only skin-deep, "much cry and little woo'," as is the case, doubtless, with the generality of female philosophers. Miss Balbirnie was a hearty, good-tempered-looking body, on the shady side of thirty, who, if she had not had clever sisters, would probably never have set up for cleverness herself. She talked in a fine style of language, but every now and then some common word would slip out that showed she was not perfect in her lesson. I thought it likely that the others kept her in order-left to herself she might have been agreeable enough. Miss Priscilla evidently ruled the roast by virtue of her Greek and Latin; but she knew not how to darn stockings-at least I opined so from something I saw that night-and she would have been nothing the worse of a cleaner ruffle round her neck. Miss Margaret, the poetess, was, of course, a sentimental young woman. She had a strange trick of shutting her eyes-winking with both at once would perhaps be the better description when she spoke, and of heaving deep sighs as if she were scant of breath; she, indeed, might be asthmatic. She condescended to ask me such questions as "Did I walk alone from town?" and "Were not solitary evening walks delightful?" which I cautiously answered in monosyllables, and doubtless this did not raise me in her estimation. I learned from their remarks that their father had told them that I was to preach for the first time next day, which grieved me to the heart, and I wished that I had asked him not to mention it. After tea I requested permission to retire to the minister's study, which I did not leave till the bell rang for family worship. Mr. Balbirnie asked me to pray, but I excused myself, I am afraid too earnestly, for I observed his two younger daughters smile to each other, which gave me a further inkling of the ordeal before me on the morrow. It was when she knelt down in front of me at the prayer that I noticed the hole in the heel of Miss Priscilla's stocking; and truly, it gave me my revenge, for how I could have retaliated upon her! And as she was declaiming like a professor at the supper-table, it was aye "the stocking, the stocking," that rose to my lips as a burden to her exposition. I was glad when bedtime, which was rather late in that house, arrived. I was lodged in a most comfortable chamber, nevertheless I passed a restless night, and by six o'clock was up and at my sermon. I had descried the entrance to the garden from my window, so I stole down-stairs before even the servants were stirring, unlocked the house door, and made my way to a shady retired walk, screened from observation from the house by a very thick and lofty holly. hedge, which also rendered it very snug and sheltered. Here I paced up and down for nearly two hours, trying to fancy that the gooseberry and currant bushes on either hand were men and women, and addressing my discourse to them. I found I could deliver it to my vegetable audience without hesitation. But truly there is such a thing as overlearning a sermon, and in that case preaching becomes a mere sing-song, a mechanical act of the memory, without the higher powers of the mind being called into exercise. I would advise inexperienced preachers, especially if of nervous temperament, not to trust to a good memory, as agitation may temporarily disorder it, but to have their manuscript in the Bible, and to turn over its pages although they do not read them; and thus they will be enabled to go on with comfort and composure of mind till habit gives them confidence. To be sure, the use of the paper is much more tolerated now than it was in my young days, when to be known as a "reader" was enough to destroy a preacher's prospects and usefulness. As for myself, if I had spent the greater part of the time I have described in asking the Lord for the help and strength I needed for the duty before me, and that the sermon I was to preach might be made a blessing to the people, it would have been better for me. I made but a poor breakfast though I had been up so early-a little tea and toast was all I could swallow; nor were my nerves improved by the minister's significant remarks on my want of appetite. How I envied him the composure with which he broke the shell of his egg, and afterwards devoured slice after slice of a fine bacon ham, of which he vainly tempted me to partake! I wondered if he had made such a good breakfast the morning of the day on which he preached his first sermon, and if he recollected any thing about it now. I would have asked him if his daughters had not been present, for it would have been an encouragement to know that he also had had similar tremors. He at last tried in grave earnest to cheer me up, for my trepidation increased as the hour for public worship drew near, and I have no doubt could be discerned in my face; but his manner was too rough and burly to suit a nervous person, and his attempts at encouragement did me no good. I think Miss Balbirnie had some feeling for me, for she wanted to bring me brandy, which I refused, being afraid of confusing my head. There was only one diet of public worship in Kirkland at this time of year. Mr. Balbirnie's custom was to expound a chapter after the psalm and prayer, then after another interval of praise and prayer to preach for an hour or thereby. I stipulated with him that he should conduct the early portion of the service-that is, pray and expound, and then retire from the pulpit, leaving me to do the rest. I should thus, I hoped, be familiarised with my position before my part in the day's duties fell to me, which I expected would be a great help. Sonnets of the Sacred Hear. BY THE REV. S. J. STONE, M.A. THE FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. "If a man keep My saying, he shall never see death.”St. John viii. 51. My days are like a shadow that declineth."-Ps. cii. 11. BRIGHT is the world's meridian: overhead Varieties. duty to respect the dogmas of the Catholic Church as dogmas, BISMARCK ON ULTRAMONTANISM.-I acknowledge it as my and I have never interfered with anybody for believing in them. But, if the Infallibility dogma is so interpreted as to lead to the establishment of an ecclesiastical imperium in imperio, if it occasions the setting aside of the laws of this country, because unapproved by the Vatican, I am naturally driven to assert the legitimate supremacy of the State. We Protestants are under the conviction that this kingdom of Prussia ought not to b ruled by the Pope, and we demand that you, the Ultramontane section of the Roman Catholics, respect our convictions, as we do yours. Unfortunately, however, you are accustomed ta complain of oppression whenever not permitted to lord it over others.-Prince von Bismarck. "JUST AS I AM."-In the "Sunday at Home" for January, it is stated that this beautiful hymn of Miss Elliott's "has been translated into French, Italian, and German. Two versions of it are to be found in the Rarotongan Hymn Book; one w myself and the other by the late Rev. A. Buzacott. The occasion was painful. Two dear little ones had been suddenly snatched from us. "Just as I am was one of the hymns we sang together on their last Sabbath in life. After the removal of the dear boys, I could find no rest until I had rendered their favourite hymn into the native dialect. On reading my translation, Mr. Buzacott became so interested that he produced an The natives of Rarotonga regard this version with a special interest-it was the last hym independent translation of his own. he composed for his beloved people. The hymn is a favourite one in all the islands of the Hervey group. It has also been rendered into the Samoan language. My friend the Rev. W. Lawes has translated it into the dialect of Savage Island (Niuë). hymnology of that interesting island. It has been translated It is deemed to be the best of the 160 hymns constituting the into Welsh by the Rev. Morlais Jones, of Lewisham. W. WYATT GILL. SALT.-The quantity of salt returned as made in the United Kingdom in the year 1872, is 1,309, 497 tons. There were 95,429 918,068 tons of white salt, making together 1,013,497 tons. tons (of 26 cwt.) of rock salt sent down the River Weaver, and The quantity in Worcestershire was 276,000 tons, and the Belfast Salt Mining Company raised 20,000 tons. More than half the salt made in the United Kingdom is exported, India and the United States taking together in 1872 more than half the exports, EMIGRATION TO THE UNITED STATES.-It is estimated that since the Peace of 1783, and down to the end of 1873, there have been 8,779,174 aliens landed in the United States, emigrants arrived from various parts of the world. Various estimates have been made of the amount of money brought into the country by immigrants. The late John A. Kennedy, for many years Superintendent at Castle Garden, found it about 68 dollars per head for a given period. Placing it at only 50 dollars, we have 444,000,000 dollars as the result up to this time. But the far greater value consists in the labour brought into the country, a very large proportion of which goes to build up new Territories and States in the West. COAL DROSS.-Mr. James Kerr, writing to the "Edinburgh Daily Review," suggests a plan for utilising coal dross: "Seeing some reference recently made to the Belgian substitute for coal ---a composition that consists of three-fourths of a scuttleful of garden earth, one-fourth of coal-dust or dross, mixed with a halfpenny-worth of washing soda dissolved in warm water-1 have tried with success this idea without earth, using up the accumulating dross in the coal-bunker by watering each scuttleful with a pint of boiling water in which one halfpenny-worth of soda has been dissolved, it having a wonderful effect in making the smallest dross burn clear without any offensive smell. My mode of using it is to back a fire of ordinary household coal well up after it has burned bright; the caking dross gives out a clear glow of heat, with much slower combustion than large coal. The experiment is so simple it may be worth the attention of many householders who have now to pay for getting rid of their coal-dross. I have little doubt but some of our chemists will pleasure, health and hope are past, soda for enabling us to utilise every particle of coal-dross." In yet be able to furnish us with even a better agent than common It merges in the impenetrable gloom. The proud imperial summer wears its crown, Yet can my Saviour make that darkness bright, a recent paper the proportions recommended are-200lbs. earth, 100 lbs. coal dross, 10 lbs. of common salt, and 14 lbs. of saltpetre. The Society of Arts ought to try these receipts, and report as to their relative value. |