seasons when the spirit seeks repose from excitement, and pants for solitude as the hart does for the water-brooks. I am thoroughly convinced that most of the mighty events which have revolutionised society, and changed the destinies of mankind, were devised by man, not amongst his species, but apart from them; and though, at first sight, this may appear somewhat paradoxical, both in regard to man's physical and psychological being, yet he who looks deeper into the matter will see that such is not the case. Though man be social in all his instincts and qualities, still is solitude as needful to his wellbeing as sleep is necessary to the refection of an existence which seems a priori to abhor the negation of activity, mental or bodily. As the giant rises refreshed from sleep, so the soul comes forth from its silent, secret chamber, re-invigorated by that communion which it holds with itself-ay, and with a greater than itself—that primeval fountain of all thought—the Father of Spirits. In all ages and in all countries solitude has had its lovers and its eulogists. The heathen philosopher and the Christian moralist have alike proclaimed its holiness and its dignity. Were I to quote half that occurs to my memory, I should exhaust your patience long before I should find the end of my materials. Seneca has many fine reflections on the subject; but be of good courage I shall not inflict one of them upon you. Petrarch, in one of his elegant Latin epistles, which were as famous in his own days as they are neglected in ours, draws a most eloquent contrast between the man who dwells in the city, and he who cultivates a solitary life in the country; this, too, I shall spare you :-but I know not how to defraud you of the sentiments of one of the great lights of the early Christian Church, whose compositions are as redolent of the odour of holiness as was his solitary life of the spirit of devotion. Thus writes St. Jerome:-"Sapiens nunquam solus esse potest, habet enim secum omnes, qui sunt et qui fuerint boni, et animum liberum quocunque vult, profert et transfert, et quod corpore non potest, cogitatione complectitur: et si hominum inopia fuerit, loquitur cum Deo."—"The wise man can never be alone, for he has with him all the good spirits of the present and the past, and he sends abroad his unfettered soul wherever he desires what he cannot accomplish in the body, he embraces by the power of thought, and if he finds any want of man's presence, he can converse with God." This last thought discovers the real source of the moral elevation which solitude confers upon man. And so it has ever been; the more he is withdrawn from the creature, the more he is in converse with the Creator. When one human being alone stood on the earth, God was ever present with him. When he found a companion to share the world with him, even still "they heard the voice of the Lord walking in the garden," Then, as the race multiplied, the visible Deity was rarely amongst them; but He ministered by His angels; and so, from time to time, as man mingled more with his fellows, he communed less with his great Spiritual Head; and it is still the primeval yearnings of the soul for purer food than it finds in the world around it that has driven ardent and meditative men to deserts and mountain tops, to cells and caves. But a truce with these reflections. I sat down to tell you all about our last merry meeting at Castle Slingsby, and here I am lauding solitude like a hermit or a disappointed lover. Despite of occasional defections from our band of friends, the main body held together up to "Twelfth-day"-that day which usage has long sanctioned as "the last of the Christmas holidays;" and now we were all assembled for the last time around the festive board at "the Castle." Somehow insensibly, perhaps not unnaturally, a slight tinge of melancholy, or rather of pensiveness, spread amongst us; for the endearing pleasures of social converse were dashed by the ever-recurring reflection that they were so shortly to end. Still the ever-joyous voice of Uncle Saul kept us all from flagging, and every sigh was chased away by his bantering laugh and trustful hope in the future. And now the ladies had retired, the superabundant leaves of the table were removed, and the diminished portion was rolled nearer to the fire. The wind had risen high and gustfully without, and the rain pattered on the windows, while within, a little knot of true friends sat together, segregated, as it were, from the world and its storms-each bound to other, more or less closely, by those bonds of love which form the dearest, as they are the most enduring of existence. Uncle Saul sent round the wine, and then threw a log of bog-deal on the fire that sent the burning peat in a thousand sparklets up the ample chimney. “Well, old friend," said he to the Parson, "Twelfth-day is not now what you and I recollect it when we were youngsters. Ah! I remember the great plum-cake, with its mighty surface of frosted sugar, the drawing of characters, the choosing of King and Queen, charades and dancing, and I know not what. I protest it almost rivalled its great antecedent, Christmas-day. But now 'Little Christmas' is but the shadow of the substance, the ghost of the goodly festival which the Gregorian Calendar so unceremoniously thrust out of its place." "You say truly, my dear sir," said the Parson, "these things you mention seem but as of yesterday; but how entirely are they passed away. Who now of those around us would recognize the truth of the picture of choosing the king, which is so well described in the old rhymes with which our boyhood was familiar ?- "Then also every householder To his abilitie, Doth make a mighty cake that may Herein a pennie doth be put Before it come to fire- His household doth require. And every peece distributeth, As round about they stand, But whoso chanceth on the peece Is counted King amongst them all; And is, with showtes and cries "Ay, ay, dear Parson, I may say to each of those youngsters here, as good Justice Shallow said of Falstaff, Ha! Cousin Silence, that thou had'st seen that that this knight and I have seen!" " "Nay," said the kind old man, smiling good-humouredly at the rakish character with which my uncle had thus invested him, "I do not think I can respond with the knight; 'we have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.' But if Twelfthnight has been shorn of some of its festal splendour, it has lost nothing of its interest to the Christian as the Feast of the Epiphany. It has been ever one of the chief festivals of the Church; and in its earlier ages attached itself most strongly both to the affections and the imaginations of the people. And no wonder ! Can there be any event more suggestive of a thousand interesting thoughts, more picturesque and dramatic -let me say so with reverence-than the wonderful one which the day commemorates ? "Let us for a few moments, in imagination, transport ourselves from beside those blazing logs to the arid sands of the desert, and exchange the wild storm and the drenching rain for the stillness of the air breathing with the spices of Araby. "Not far from the banks of the fleet-flowing Tigris, stands one of those structures of which travellers speak with awe and wonder; those pyramids which, ere Abraham left his native land, were raised, that man might watch the stars of heaven. ""Tis evening-one of the kingly priesthood, who rules that land, enters the pile to worship, as is their wont, the heavenly host, and study the laws by which they are guided. Hours pass on while he is so engaged, while the heavens declare the glory of God.' At length a star unknown, unseen before, shines forth to the priest - brilliant as the star of the morning, and baffling the lore of Melchior. With hurried steps he hastens to where others of his caste are seeking repose, and, awakening them from sleep, shows them this wondrous sight. Long and anxiously they gaze on this portentous light; till Gaspar, at length, breaks the silence, and, turning to Balthazar, exclaims-' Is not this the star thus spoken of by our forefather, Balaam ?'— . I shall see him-but not now; "And long and anxiously still they gaze and commune with themselves, and ponder over the occult lore of Egypt; and, at length, the word goes forth amongst their followers, to prepare for a distant journey. "And now behold these venerable sages setting forth, stardirected, towards the royal city of David, to visit 'the King of the Jews.' Swift-footed dromedaries bear on their backs the richest products of the country-gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. A chosen band of followers attends them. How picturesque their appearance in the long and monotonous desert! -their striped rafieh, with its varied colours, bound round their heads by the azal, and the party-coloured abayeh thrown round their shoulders. Thus furnished, they traverse the wastes of Arabia, undeterred by its toils and dangers. After many days, they cross the Jordan, and soon are within the walls of Jerusalem. But they look there in vain for the star-announced King. They are desired to seek him diligently in Bethlehem, and they quickly leave the City of David. And now see them descending from Zion's heights, leaving behind them its gorgeous palaces and gilded domes. Mark them now crossing the narrow valley, and ascending the sloping plain which hides Bethlehem from their view. Beneath lies the little peaceful humble village. Ah! sure this is not the birth-place of a King. They are filled with perplexity and doubt, when-lo, the star!-the star! once more shines bright as when first it glittered upon them in Araby, and guides them through the streets of Bethlehem, till at length the lamp unto their feet' burns fixedly over the shrine that they have been seeking; and what do they find in the gloom of that mid-winter night? A hovel !—and within, a poor mother with her little babe! Ah! but they know Him; their purged eyes and enlightened spirits see deep into God's mysteries; aad they behold Omnipotence in the feeble infant, and kingly splendour, and majesty and glory; and so they fall down and worship, and offer their precious gifts, and then those mysterious kings and priests depart content to traverse again the toilsome way, for they have paid, their homage to the King of kings. They appear and disappear, as did Melchisedech, the king and priest of old, having 6 |