the wind roared among the rocks, by which he was now surrounded on every side; and after a while he heard the tremendous crashing sound, too well known to the mountaineer, which warned him of an avalanche. Whether it might be coming to overwhelm himself he could not tell, for the snow was now blowing about in all directious, and he could not see distinctly three yards off. He heard the crackling of the ice as it fell upon a sharp point of rock; the downward rush and the stunning sound, like thunder echoing from rock to rock, as the immense mass fell into the valley beneath. It had not touched him, but he felt sure it must have blocked up the road he had meant to take; and blinded by the snow, and becoming numbed by the cold, which, now that he could no longer keep up the quick pace at which he had walked, he felt intensely, he knew his danger to be great. He breathed a prayer, and just then, as if in answer, he heard the distant sound of the hospice bell. Thankful indeed was the poor Savoyard to hear that; it gave him courage to struggle onward, and he did struggle till he came to where the avalanche had fallen; then he could get no further. The main road was completely blocked up, and although there was a by-path, as there were several in different directions, leading to the hospice, he did not know it. The bell still sounded during every lull of the wind, but to him the sound came more and more faintly, for his ear was growing dull. He could no longer exert himself, but sank upon his knees. Again he prayed earnestly, and, even while he prayed, the torpor which had gradually stolen upon him completely overpowered him, and he fell forward upon the snow; and, in spite of his efforts, was soon fast sinking into that sleep from which so few awake again in this world.

The wind had greatly calmed, and now only moaned amongst the rocks, but the snow was still coming down; and as that on which the poor traveller had fallen had given way under his weight, he was in a very short time completely covered. The bell of S. Bernard sounded more clearly as the storm passed away, but he heard it not. His thoughts had turned to his home as sleep overpowered him, and he fancied he was sitting by the fire in his own cottage, and his wife was busy at her spinning-wheel, and one of the children had climbed upon his knee, and was stroking his face with his hand. More real the sensation grew, till he opened his eyes, and saw, not one of his children, but a great black dog, which had scraped away the snow, and was now trying, by lying upon him, and rubbing his face and hands, to warm and rouse him. Joyfully the dog barked when he opened his eyes, and then, with all but words, invited him to take the cordial hung around his neck, and then to follow him. The poor man took the cordial, and it wonderfully revived him, but he still had not strength to rise; and the dog, finding he did not get up, galloped off, and in no long time returned with two of the kind men who had devoted them

selves to the succour of the traveller. They brought a litter, and placing him upon it, and covering him well with blankets, carried him safely through a path which any unaccustomed to its extreme difficulty would scarcely have been able to tread alone. Once in the hospice he was put into a bed, warm nourishment given him, and, under the skilful treatment of the monks, he was well enough in a day or two to continue his journey, and arrived once more in his own cottage, to the great joy of his anxious family.

We may imagine how often he told them the history of his escape, and how the children loved to hear about the good dog which had found him in the snow. Every year after, the day of his wonderful preservation was kept as a solemn festival in the family. They never missed going to their Church, which was always open, even if there was no service, to offer their thanksgiving; and never did the Savoyard pass the hospice of S. Bernard without carrying, from his grateful wife, some mark of gratitude, in the shape of a warm rug, the produce of their own sheep, spun and woven with their own hands; or anything else of that kind which they thought might be useful to the monks in the charitable office they had undertaken. On such occasions it was the delight of the children to make a cake for the good dog; and caressed and loved as these noble animals may well be by all who pass that way, he seemed quite to understand the meaning of the cake, and always received it with great satisfaction from the hands of his old friend whom he had rescued from a snowy grave.

CONVERSATIONS ON ENGLISH CHURCH HISTORY. (Continued from Vol. VIII., page 218.)

"WELL, my boys," said Mr. Trevilly, on our young friends' entering his study, for further instruction in Church history, at the time appointed, "do you remember the subject with which our last conversation concluded ?"

"Yes, sir," said Charles Milton; "you were asking us about the religion which prevailed in Britain before Christianity was preached, and we told you what we knew about Druidism."

"And was Druidism the only false religion with which the first preachers of the Gospel had to contend?" said Mr. Trevilly.

"No, sir; the Romans who had vanquished the Britons, and gained dominion over them, were also idolaters."

"Was their religion, then, just the same as that of the ancient Britons?" said Mr. Trevilly.

“No, sir,” replied Charles; "it seems to have been a much more complicated affair. Indeed, I don't think one could possibly recollect the names of all their gods without the aid of a Memoria Technica. They had great gods and lesser gods, select gods and household gods, besides heroes, emperors, nymphs, fauns, and satyrs. They appear to have invented gods for everything they could think of, even down to thieves and

common sewers.

"Had they any long songs like the Druids?" said Anderson. "Yes, to be sure they had," continued Charles, "and a god of songs too. Their songs have been preserved to our time, to delight poets and puzzle schoolboys."

"Well, Charley," said Mr. Trevilly, smiling, "you seem to know more about ancient Romanism than you do of Druidism; but you cannot speak much from experience, can you, about the beauties or difficulties of the long songs, as you call them ?"

"Why no, sir," replied Charles, "I cannot say that I know much yet about Ovid or Virgil; but I have looked into both, and so can speak as to the puzzling part."

"Everything_worth delighting in costs study and pains in acquiring," said Mr. Trevilly; "if you take that as a rule, it may save you, perhaps, many impatient thoughts in pursuing your various studies. But we must not wander too much from our subject, though it seemed necessary for me to see if you knew the sort of religion which Christianity had to contend against. The earth was indeed buried in thick darkness when the Sun of Righteousness arose; full of violence and cruel habitations when the Prince of Peace came to establish that kingdom against which the gates of hell can never prevail. The Romans governed in Britain at this time by deputy-governors, or kings of provinces, just as Herod did in Judea; and it is said that several of these rulers were led to see the falsehood and absurdity of their own religion, and to embrace Christianity."

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"And what became of the Druids, sir?" said Anderson; were they converted also?"

"We may hope that many of them were," replied Mr. Trevilly; "at all events they were unable to keep alive their superstition in the world; for before the end of the second century it seems entirely to have died away."

"Did the Roman superstition soon die away also, sir?" said Charles.

"It did die away," said Mr. Trevilly, "but not so quickly. Fierce indeed was the struggle which Satan maintained against the progress of that kingdom of light which was destined to wrest unnumbered souls from his dark dominion."

"You mean, I suppose, sir," said Edward, "that Satan stirred

up the priests and other persons, whose interest it was to keep up idolatry, to persecute the Christians, and put them to death, and so try to put an end to Christianity?"

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Yes," said Mr. Trevilly; "the heathen did indeed furiously rage together, and imagine a vain thing. The kings of the earth stood up, and the rulers took counsel together against the LORD, and against His Anointed.' Most of the first preachers of Christianity were called upon to seal their testimony with their blood. You have heard and read something of the noble army of martyrs, have you not?" said Mr. Trevilly.

"O yes, sir !" exclaimed several of the boys at once; "you have yourself told us some of their histories."

"Yes, my boys," replied Mr. Trevilly; "I am anxious you should know something of the lives and deaths of those holy men of old, who were faithful even unto death, that they might so best attest their teaching, and hand on to future generations the faith of CHRIST in all its integrity and purity. Under GOD, it is to their faithfulness that we are indebted for the spiritual blessings and privileges we enjoy; and therefore the Church would have us revere their memories, and imitate their lives. You all know that certain days are appointed by the Church to be kept holy, in honour of the holy Apostles and Evangelists, do you not?"

"Yes, sir; you do not allow us to forget that," said Charles, "for you give notice on Sundays when any such days occur in the week following, and keep them just like Sundays."

"The Christian faith appears to have made considerable progress in Britain," pursued Mr. Trevilly, "before those very severe persecutions were raised against it which marked its course in other parts of the world. The persecutions from the time of Nero, cruel and severe as they were, had been confined to other parts of the Roman empire. But in the reign of Diocletian, an attempt was made utterly to root out Christianity from the world. Christian Churches were levelled with the ground, all the copies of the Scriptures which could anywhere be found were burnt in the public streets, and the Priests and Bishops of the LORD's flock slaughtered, together with their charge; so that in some provinces not even a trace of Christianity remained."

"And did all the Christians continue faithful, sir, and choose to die rather than give up their religion?"

The

"No, Charles, there never was an age when all were faithful; tares have ever, in some degree, been mixed with the wheat, and some were then found who in the time of trial fell away. deadly persecution served as a winnow to separate the chaff from the grain."

"It must have been a very trying thing, sir, to have had to choose between religion and death," said Collings; "I should not have liked to live in those times."

"I think I would rather die than deny my SAVIOUR," said Charles.

Edward said nothing, but looked up very earnestly in Mr. Trevilly's face, and then cast his eyes on the ground.

Mr. Trevilly paused a few seconds, to reflect on the characters of the boys he was instructing. There was the doubting, almost sceptical Collings, whose religious impressions were continually being deadened and weakened by the home conversations of his parents; Anderson, full of good nature and fun, but devoid of any deep, earnest, religious principle; Charles, bold, open, frank, and generous, but over-confident in his own strength,-too ready to speak from mere impulse, and so prone to fall away in the hour of temptation; and Edward, gentle, meek, and loving, but lacking in that energy of mind which characterised his elder brother. "What care will all these require," thought Mr. Trevilly," in their journey through this life to their true home; each one needing, as he does in many ways, such different treatment and guidance!"

“My children,” he continued, looking affectionately on them, "do you remember whose soldiers you are, what enemies you have to contend against, and how long the warfare is to last ?" There was a short silence; the boys knew what to answer, but there seemed some hesitation among them as to which of them should speak. At length Charles replied, "We are CHRIST'S soldiers, sir; the enemies we have to fight against are the world, the flesh, and the devil; and we have to maintain this warfare, and continue CHRIST'S faithful servants and soldiers unto our lives' end."

"I am glad," said Mr. Trevilly, "you do not forget this your baptismal engagement. You were quite right then, Charles, in saying you would rather die than deny your SAVIOUR, for no one can have any right to expect the crown of life who is not faithful unto death; but we should ever be cautious, my dear boy, how we venture on strong expressions of zeal and love. If the great apostle S. Peter failed in the hour of temptation, after his bold assertion of faithfulness, well does it become us to be humble and diffident of ourselves. Let us think how often we fail even to overcome the common temptations of daily life, when we are tempted to think how firm we would have been in the fiery trial."

Charles coloured, and then answered, in a subdued voice, "I know I am too ready, sir, to answer hastily, and fancy I can do anything right without trouble; yet it is true that I am con