brought into the Great Shepherd's fold. I am anxious to start a Penny Saving Association in numbers of towns. These pennies may not be taken from any other object, but must be those that are wasted every day. I should be glad to hear after February 1st from any one who will take up the work in earnest, three stamps to be enclosed for reply. I shall be exceedingly obliged if any of your readers can give me introductions to any vessel

owners.

A lady who is a trained nurse, and several other missionary candidates, are only at home instead of hard at work in the Bombay diocese, because there is not money to send them out or to support them when in India.-Address, A. C. MACLACHLAN, 2, Great Stanhope Street, Bath.

DIAGRAM FOR KNITTING.

SIR,-So many delays having arisen through the shop which sold my Diagrams for Knitting Stockings twice changing hands, I have now arranged with an old-established firm, so for the future they may be obtained (13 stamps) of Benham, Stationer, 9, Devonshire Terrace, Notting Hill, W.-Yours, &c., K. G. B.

THE ARK OF THE COVENANT.

SIR,-Two questions were put to me a short time since by a lady, which I felt I could not satisfactorily answer, and I should be greatly obliged if you could throw light upon them. The questions are,

I. What became of the ark of the covenant during or after the Captivitywas it secreted, or left to perish?

II. What is the legend of the passion flower?

Any remarks in reply in the Correspondence of your Magazine will be gratefully received by-Yours, &c., INQUIRER.

BISHOP WILBERFORCE CONFIRMATION
MEMORIAL WINDOW IN S. MARY'S,
SOUTHAMPTON.

Miss L. PHILLIMORE, (5, Arlington Street, London, S.W.,) acknowledges with her best thanks for the above: Bletchley, 2s. 6d. ; a Poor Incumbent, 18.; In Memoriam, M. A. H., ls; C. A., 18.; E. K., 18.; C. F. M, 5s.; Chichester, 1s. 1d. Further offerings gladly received as above. Post Office Orders payable at S. James's Street, S.W.

Notices to Correspondents.

O. L. It is doubtful how far it is legal for a clergyman to refuse to take the body of a non-communicant into the Church, and we also think it questionable whether it is desirable that persons should be brought to Holy Communion simply by a dread of that penalty, instead of the higher motives which should influence them.

An Old Subscriber. We thoroughly appreciate the motive of your letter, and greatly regret the circumstance which has called it forth. If you will send us your address we will give you a satisfactory explanation by letter. In any case you need not fear that there will ever be the slightest intentional divergence from the principles which have been steadfastly maintained in this Magazine for above a quarter of a century.

Accepted: "Rev. v. 6;" "JESUS lives."

Declined with thanks: "Coxe's ballad on the Cross."

LUCE Vanheegue was very happy in those spring days, and all the world seemed full of joy and youthful hope: the sun shone, the flowers bloomed out, even the trees in the avenues of the long flat roads beyond the town gates, where she and her sister took their daily drives, blossomed out into the glory of youth. Along the canal quays and in the dull squares, beside gray church walls, in quiet convent gardens and along high window ledges, wherever spring could claim a nook or corner, there she hung her green banners-bursting out into leaf for their life of a summer, amongst the ancient buildings that through the slow centuries were going to decay.

The fair-time was beginning at Bruges with the month of May, and the market-place was filled with a noisy crowd from morning till night. Stalls, booths and merry-go-rounds drove a brisk trade; groups of sturdy peasants from the country might be seen laying in their stores of cheap and useful things, and buxom black-cloaked Flemish wives holding endless bargainings amidst the display of bright stuffs, heaps of thick-soled boots and shoes, or piles of primitive-looking cups and bowls of heavy Flemish ware, warranted not to break by a dozen

tumbles or so. And above the noise of the ever-moving crowd-the din of the children's drums and whistles-the cries of the stall-keepers -the whirr of the merry-go-rounds-the clatter of Flemish tongues -high above all, the carillon poured down sweet notes from the Tour des Halles, chiming the quarters as the hours of the day went by, and "the shadow of the belfry crossed the sun-illumined square.”

Luce was very happy in those days, very happy, and trying to be very good-going to Church in the early morning, working, practising her music, and teaching her little nephew Bernard, going drives with Stephanie, and in the evenings pacing up and down the garden-walks, holding her father's arm whilst he smoked, or playing dominoes with her brother-in-law. She read English, too, and watered her flowers, and the flowers on the embroidery-frame grew fast like those outside, and this made up the measure of those bright and peaceful days. But yet this was not quite all; she went out sometimes to parties with her sister, and once or twice they had met Mr. O'Hara again: he had called also, and been once to dinner. And there was one thing which troubled her peace a little; M. de Senlecq began to make more frequent visits as his stay at Bruges drew to a close, and sometimes when she was in her little room reading, or teaching Bernard, she could hear his voice below; however, it did not trouble her very much, and he must soon be going back to Brussels, when the Easter recess was over. One afternoon she and her sister were driving along a flat melancholy road beyond one of the Portes. Stephanie held strong opinions as to the necessity of "taking the air" both for themselves and for the delicate Frou-frou who sat opposite to them upon the back seat, looking exceedingly fat and morose.

They had been to pay a visit at a château a mile or two out of the town, and now, as they returned, Stephanie having exhausted her remarks and criticisms upon their friends, began to read, and Luce, leaning back in the carriage, was left to her own thoughts. The horses being rather old and fat, went always at a slow and solemn trot, and Frou-frou sitting gloomily watching the scene, appeared lost in dreary calculations as to the possibility of their meeting any poor wandering cur upon the road, whom she might insult as they passed, before reaching home.

"When would their drive be over ?" thought Luce; how long and dull the road was! Why was it necessary to take these wearisome drives? It seemed to be a long time since they had seen some one

whom Mademoiselle de Woos knew; had that some one finished that picture he had spoken of, and left Bruges? She would have liked to have seen that picture. Well, never mind-nothing, however little, happened, but what GOD permitted to happen, as Sœur Denise saidshe would go and see Sœur Denise again soon. . . . . On either side the road, the poplars stretched in a long vista towards the town; beyond them lay flat open fields of clover and wheat, only broken by low clumps of pollards marking the course of the canals, and a distant wood upon the horizon, behind which the sun was going down. The sky was streaked with crimson, but the landscape was wide and sad and gray; here and there was a man or woman leaving work in the fields; flights of larks rose startled from the young wheat as they passed; sometimes a peasant went by, trudging home with laden basket, who gave them a "Good night" as they passed, or a Priest reading his Breviary returning from an outlying hamlet; a dog barked at some far-away farm in the wide distance.

Suddenly Luce perceived a figure that she knew, coming towards them between the poplars. Stephanie," she said, "I think I see Mr. O'Hara coming." "We will ask him up into the carriage,” said Stephanie. And so they came to a standstill, and Mr. O'Hara stood. beside the carriage, looking rather hot, and demurring about taking the half of Frou-frou's seat. But it did not take long to persuade him, and he was soon sitting opposite to them, talking gaily, and making apologetic overtures to the indignant Frou-frou. What had happened to the road that it looked so gay and smiling? The dull poplars stood up against the streaks of crimson cloud like triumphant sentinels lining the approach to some royal city; and how quickly they flitted by one after the other, and the dull Porte and paved streets came in sight! The picture was getting on famously;-it was the interior of Saint Sauveur's Cathedral. Stephanie said that she should like to see it some day.

Should you?" said Mr. O'Hara, looking very pleased, "I shall be delighted to show it you."

"You must know that I have quite a passion for art, Monsieur O'Hara!" said Stephanie, laughing gaily. "Old lace and china are my two weak points: I feel there is nothing I am not capable of doing to procure a bit of true blue Delft ware, and you might lead me round the world by a scrap of genuine Venice point!"

Luce and Mr. O'Hara laughed.

"I am afraid I have not much of that sort to show you; I do not paint genre pictures."

"And what do you like best to paint ?" asked Luce.

"That," answered Mr. O'Hara quickly. They looked, and saw an old peasant who stood by the wayside to let them pass, bending beneath his burden of faggots, and looking up with patient eyes as they went by.

"You paint faces, then ?"

"Yes, faces-and souls are what I try to paint."

"And how long do you stay at Bruges, Monsieur O'Hara ?” asked Stephanie.

"I ought to go soon to Antwerp to study in good earnest, but I shall not leave Bruges just yet, there are so many other things I want to sketch."

And then they were rumbling over the stones again, and that drive only remained in Luce's memory amongst the pleasant things that so soon pass away.

CHAPTER V.

"If art debased is the earthliest of things, true art is an influence in the soul so heavenly that it almost seems akin to grace."-F: W. FABER.

It was on one of those days when, as Luce and Madame Dambricourt sat at work in the salon-just as they did that other afternoon when the Comte de Senlecq called-that Stephanie said suddenly,

"Should you like to go to see Mr. O'Hara's studio this afternoon, Luce ?"

"Yes, if you would," answered Luce.

"I rather like Mr. O'Hara-do you, petite sœur ?" continued Stephanie, looking keenly at the girl.

"Yes, I think he is very pleasant," said Luce, drooping her head over her work, and wondering why her cheeks flushed.

How should she know what Stephanie was thinking whilst her fingers flitted in and out of those meshes of lace as fast as the schemings of her brain ?

“Yes, c'est ça; a little soupçon de romance will be all very well in order to hurry forward the good Count who seems inclined to advance too slowly, and whom the little foolish one would let slip through her fingers without a moment's remorse; but only a little, only a little ;