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DEVELOPMENT.* It is a sequel to a similar volume, which was found so useful to young men, that the author has been induced to print another set of Discourses to Youth. He now classifies the hearers according to character; and has written thoughtfully, practically, earnestly, with a plainness and home-thrustiness of speech, that many preachers would have shrunk from.
Mrs. M. What is meant by ACCOMMODATED TEXTS? +
Ed. The writer anticipates the reader's difficulty in under: standing his title.
Aug. He should have used a plainer one, then.
Ed. And he kindly explains it in the preface. He means, “passages of Scripture quoted in a sense not intended by the inspired writer ; judging from an examination of the words themselves, together with the context in which they stand.” Now, it is quite true that there are many conventional applications of the text, which are not sanctioned by any correct principles of interpretation—such as the necessity for Christ's passing through Samaria (although this text is not mentioned by our critic), which as any one with a map will at once see is a geographical necessity
--and it must always be a laudable attempt to assign the true sense to Scripture texts. The author deserves praise for his wellintentioned efforts, although I think that he may have difficulty in sustaining all the interpretations he proposes to substitute.
Leo. A book for me at last! I don't get many books now; they are all for you grown up people.
Mrs. M. And what have you now, darling ?
Ed. By a young lady who once told me that she thought she had a vocation to write one book, and only one. Her vocation appears to have been renewed many times, for she is authoress of several works.
Leo. It seems very pretty.
Ed. I have no doubt it is. The simplest language is used, the actual words of Scripture being employed as much as possi. ble; and there are twenty engravings. A book by the author of the “Female Visitor to the Poor” will be sure to be good.
* London : Ward and Co.
London : Seeleys.
New Year's Day,1560, Queen
St. Paul's. A Prayer Book, splendidly bound, and illustrated with Popish pictures, was placed on her majesty's cush
zabeth examined it Yppy with curiosity, then frowned and blushed. After a moment's consideration she put it
hastily away, and called to the verger to bring her the old Prayer Book.
As soon as service was over, instead of mounting her horse, as usual, she walked to the vestry room, called for the dean and asked him why he had given her the new Prayer Book. When he explained that he had placed it there as a new year's gift to her Majesty, the queen remarked that he could never have given her a worse, for that she had an aversion to idolatry, to images, and pictures of saints and angels, and the grosser absurdities resembling the Holy Trinity; and reminded him of her proclamation against images, pictures, and Romish relics in churches. When the dean humbly declared that he acted in ignorance, the queen expressed her hope that God would pardon his sin of ignorance, and grant him the Holy Spirit, and more wisdom for the future.”
Upon inquiry it was found that foreigners had supplied him with the illuminated, or rather the darkened Prayer Book.
The salutary effect of this spirited rebuke of our first Protestant queen, was soon seen in the careful eradication from the walls of all the London churches of the Popish paintings, and the substitution of Scriptural texts against Romish errors.
Are there no similar attempts, in the present day, to make impressions on the minds of the young, the susceptible, or the influential; impressions which shall give à Popish cast to the thoughts and feelings, and insensibly, but surely, prepare the mind for the full teaching of Rome? And should we not earnestly guard against everything in sculpture, painting, garniture, or rite, which can imbue the soul with any particle of sympathy for the errors of an apostate church ?
W. M. W.
A TALE OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
“If our country is saved we shall gladly bear all,” said Philip; but, having by this time reached the door of his dwelling, he took leave of his companion, and entered, although not without a deep. drawn sigh, and a moment's pause on the threshold.
Pale, anxious, and care-worn, were the faces that met Philip's eye. Lisa, true to her own unselfish nature, looked up and smiled the welcome she had no heart to speak, but immediately afterwards resumed her endless task of sewing, while old René sat gloomily watching the two children, who crouched together on the floor, Alphonso vainly endeavouring to amuse his younger companion so as to wile away the pangs of hunger. For some time the group remained in silence; all commonplace words of hope, consolation, or encouragement, had already been said so often that they had lost their power, and the language of complaint was never heard from the lips of any one of that resigned, though sorrowing family, for none would willingly have added a feather's weight to the load of suffering the others had to bear.
Philip broke at length the mournful pause. "Lisa," he said, “put away that work of thine; it can be of no use.""
"Do not speak so, brother," was the reply, “it will give us one day's food at least."
“Thou canst surely spare a few moments from the task to come and breathe the fresh air of heaven. See how beautifully the sun is setting, how richly its golden light is poured even through this narrow window."
Lisa threw down her work, and quickly prepared to comply with his invitation. But it was evidently something more than the fresh air and the evening sun that had tempted her to do so. “ Brother,” she said, after they had walked for a few minutes together in silence, “I have long wished for this opportunity of speaking to you alone.”
"I guess what thou wouldst say,” Philip rather hastily interrupted, “Alphonso ”
“Nay,” answered Lisa, “it regards not him."
“But my father," she continued, speaking rapidly, and in a slightly tremulous voice, “thou must soon be to him son and daughter both, dear Philip.”
" But for the tone in which thy words are uttered, I would say thou wert jesting with me, Lisa."
"Brother, would I jest on death; and, above all, here and now?” she asked, solemnly. “No, I am speaking the truth before Him in whose presence I shall be ere long."
"Lisa!” exclaimed Philip in heartfelt astonishment; for if ever his sister's dimmed eye and young faded face had spoken to his heart the same mysterious warning, least of all did he feel it at that moment, when her cheek was burning with the glow of excitement, and her whole mien irradiated with more beauty than he had ever seen it wear in the fulness of health and strength. “Do not give these sad thoughts a place within your heart," he said at length, “what you have felt is but the depression which is a natural consequence of so much fatigue and suffering : you have been overworked of late."
“But I shall rest very soon,” she answered, “and sweet and deep that rest will be. Think not I am deceiving myself. I do believe, Philip, that when God is about to call us home, He ever sends some mysterious inward warning of the death-angel's approach, that we may prepare to meet him. I know not how or by whom that warning comes to all. He hath ministers enough that do his pleasure, and they are more and oftener around us than we think. Perhaps they are sometimes sent to whisper softly to the hearts of his own children, that the many mansions in their Father's house are ready to receive them."
“Does the Book of God speak so, sister?" asked Philip. “ Alas, you know much more of it than 1.”
“But will you not try to learn it now, dear Philip, that you may read it to my father in the long winter evenings ?”
“Winter! the reaper's song has not yet ceased, and which of us will live to see the snow on the ground again ?"
“I never shall at least. When first I felt my health and strength failing me, I tried to think, as you do now, that it was but natural. In vain I sought to blind myself, it would not be, Philip. Do I not know the shadow of the grave and the footstep of death when it is coming? But I also know that my Redeemer liveth ; He will be with me through the dark valley; his rod and his staff shall comfort me. Kind friend and brother, wilt thou not seek Him too ?”
As she was speaking these words, Philip felt a hand laid on his shoulder, and turning, started to see his friend Quinten, not as he had left him last, pale, spiritless, and dejected, but with a glowing cheek and an eye beaming with excitement.
“There's hope for us yet, Philip,” he said, abruptly, “ we'll have bread to eat, or we'll die for it."
" Where, how shall we get it ?”