Why, you know a schoolmaster is apt to get to talk like a book, as you call it, Warburton. And I have thought over this doctrine a great deal, and talked it over too, for that matter, with good Mr. Stockton: who often points out to us in the pulpit how constantly God in the Bible uses sacramental means (as he calls them)."

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"What does he mean by that?" said Warburton. Why, that He conveys His invisible and inward blessings by some visible and outward sign. You will remember Naaman's being ordered to bathe in Jordan, Mr. Warburton, and the bites of the serpents being cured by a mere look at a serpent of brass, and our Lord's anointing the blind man's eyes with clay."

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Oh, yes, I know all that," said Warburton.

"And you know too, that the brass serpent could not cure the bites itself, nor the Jordan cure the leprosy itself, nor the moistened clay itself open the blind man's eyes: but that God made these things the means, and the ONLY MEANS, by which the blessings desired could be obtained. Isn't it likely then, that Christ, having appointed the Sacrament of Baptism, may mean it to be the only means by which the new-birth is brought about. But I was say

ing that this doctrine is just what man wants; now can you deny that, when a great prize is to be gained, those will try hardest, who are quite sure that they ean gain it, if they will; but equally sure that they shall lose it, and be severely punished besides, if they do not do their utmost?"

Why there is some reason for that certainly: but then if our new-birth is after Baptism, a man may feel just the same certainty, and have the same hope and the same fear."

"Ah! after his new birth.. but what before it? will he all his life long have the same comfortable assurance of being in God's favour? the same fear of offending Him?-but come, Mr. Warburton, I won't

tire you with my book-talk, but I should like you to read a few words that I copied out of a real book. Perhaps you have heard of a great writer called Hooker?"

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Oh, yes: Mr. Volatt often talks of him: he always calls him the judicious Hooker."

"Yes; he is often called by that name: well, Hooker says:-'As we are not naturally men without birth, so neither are we Christian men in the eye of the Church of God but by new birth; nor, according to the manifest ordinary course of divine dispensation, new born but by that Baptism which both declareth and maketh us Christians.' And in another place he says: Baptism is a Sacrament which God hath instituted in His Church, to the end that they which receive the same might thereby be incorporated into Christ, and so, through His most precious merit, obtain as well that saving grace of imputation which taketh away all former guiltiness, as also that infused divine virtue of the Holy Ghost, which giveth to the powers of the soul their first disposition towards newness of life.'"

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Well, I should not have thought Hooker would have said that. I shall doubt whether he is so judicious as "Mr. Volatt calls him, hey?—well, now here is Jeremy Taylor I see next. And therefore Baptism is a new birth by which we enter into the new world, the new creation, the blessings and spiritualities of the kingdom and this is the expression which our Saviour Himself used unto Nicodemus: unless a man be born of water and of the Spirit;' and it is by St. Paul called, the laver of regeneration-for

now

"Oh, come," said Warburton," I shan't get home to-night, if you go through that thick book." "Well, he isn't very fond of stopping, Mr. Warburton," said Martha, "when he begins with reading out his favorite bits."

"I shall be off then, Mrs. Masham, and I think it's time for young master to be off to bed-andand I hope he will have the new birth some day."

"Oh, Mr. Warburton-but good night, and thank you for your company: you'll always find us at tea at this time."

"But I shan't always find plum buns. Well-Good night, and thank you :-good night, Mrs. Harmsby; good night, gentlemen; good night, Masham: we don't quite agree, but you've more to say for yourself than most men of your way of thinking.'

PRAYER.-PROFESSION OF OUR FAITH IN THE RESURRECTION.

I BELIEVE, O victorious Jesu, that by the virtue of Thy resurrection all the dead shall rise, bad as well as good; all glory be to Thee, by whom death is swallowed up in victory.

I believe, O Almighty Jesu, that by Thy power all shall rise with the same bodies they had on earth; that Thou wilt re-collect their scattered dust into the same form again; that our souls shall be reunited to our bodies; that we shall be judged both in body and soul for the sins committed by both; that the bodies of the wicked shall be fitted for torment, and the bodies of the saints changed in quality, and made glorified bodies, immortal and incorruptible, fitted for heaven, and eternally to love and enjoy Thee, for which glorious vouchsafement, I will always praise and love Thee. Amen.-Bishop Ken.

If thou wouldest work miracles also, be rid of transgressions, and thou hast quite accomplished it, yea, for sin is a greatde mon, beloved; and if thou exterminate this, thou hast wrought a greater thing than they who drive out ten thousand demons.-St. Chrysostom (Hom. 32, on St. Matth.).

BURNING OF THE CATHEDRAL OF CHARTRES. Ar eight o'clock the smoke was seen to issue from the northern spire. It was impossible to do any thing to check the flames here. The vast height and the difficulty, or rather impossibility, of approaching the building vomiting forth flames of the greatest intensity in every direction, reduced the unhappy townspeople to look on in helpless despair at the threatened destruction of this highly prized and much vaunted ornament of their town. By this time the entire population of the neighbouring parishes had arrived, and if human power or labour could have availed aught, the cathedral would not have been destroyed for want of bold efforts or ready hands. For the country people around are extremely attached to the venerable fabric, which connects itself with all their earliest and dearest recollections. Thousands of anxious eyes and beating hearts were now gazing on a spectacle, which, to an indifferent spectator, if such there could be, would have been one of the grandest and most splendid which can be conceived. The whole of the

wooden framework in the interior of the spire had become ignited'. The roaring of the fire amid its abundant aliment 2, excited to the utmost fury by the powerful thorough draft which rushed in upon it from every aperture and window of the building, was awfully audible over the whole town. Presently the flames burst forth from every outlet, and the entire spire was a colossal pyramid of light. The delicate stone-work of its tree-like ornaments became suddenly illuminated, so as to be visible in their minutest details with a sort of unnatural distinctness, which the broadest light of day would fail to produce. Far and wide over the town, and along the valley of the Eure, flashed that baleful light, peering into every remotest corner of the affrighted town, flashing on every roof, playing as in ferocious sport and mockery upon every 1 Had caught fire.

2 Substances on which it could feed.

window, and showing painfully distinct to every man his neighbour's face, haggard with dismay and apprehension.

And the stronger sentiment of self began now to turn men's thoughts from the public misfortune to fears, each for his own house and home. For great apprehensions were entertained that the vast edifice of the spire would itself yield to the intense action of the fire, and spread ruin far and wide in its fall. The whole of the thickly populated quarter of the lower part of the town too was considered to be in imminent danger. For a strong wind blew the flames and burning fragments in that direction, and it seemed almost a miracle that it escaped. Yet what could be done? Nothing. The spectators were denied even the consolation of activity, of stirring to avert the calamity, and were forced to await the result in silence, broken only by those inarticulate sounds which indicate the vacillating emotions of a vast multitude, as each alternative of hope and fear predominates. For a long time the bells were seen hanging red hot amidst the burning beams, as the immense timbers which supported them yielded but slowly, even to the force of the raging elements which was preying upon them. At length, however, with an awful crash, they fell to the bottom of the spire, bearing down before them the whole mass of half consumed blazing timbers below them.

From that time the fire was confined to the bottom of the steeple, and it is probable, that to this cause the ultimate safety of the spire was due.

Scarcely, however, had the fears of the town for the safety of this spire abated before the other, the southern spire, was discovered to be on fire. It was expected that this would surely fall, for an erroneous notion had long been prevalent in the town that it was in an infirm state. The venerable stones, however, so cunningly put together by the old architects of the twelfth century, stood the fierce test

I