Forbear, forbear that sidelong glance
That seems, in kindness, cast askance,
As if thou knewest, but too well,
Mishap thy tongue were loath to tell!
Nay, nay, I cannot, will not brook
The mystery of thy boding look!
Thy tongue, to prayer still a stranger,
In hope of mercy, dread of danger;
Self-blasting curse, it skilleth well,
The current dialect of hell!

From song of gladness turned, thine ear
Finds music in the shriek of fear,
The stifled moan of agony,

Expiring nature's feeble cry,

And still it deems the sweetest note
The rattle in the speechless throat!
Fell tyrant of the broken heart

That feels same untold, hopeless smart!
Foul trafficker in human blood

With coin of chalice, steel, or flood;
Tempting the wretch, with ready rope,
To barter life for atheist's hope!
In fiendish form 'tis thine to crouch
By the lost sinner's dying couch;
And if thy clutching hand thou stay—
"Tis only to enhance thy prey!
Why should thy presence oft be found
In this, at best, but weary round?
By pillow of unconscious sleep,
Thy unseen vigil wilt thou keep-
And wilt thou dash my better dreaming,
Jealous of bliss-though but in seeming?
And when the breezy hill I climb,

To share the raptures of the prime,
Wilt thou turn the morning's gladness
To midnight silence,-midnight sadness?
And when, at eve, I wend my way
Where the clear brook delights 'to stray,
A-listening to its pleasing chime,
All heedless of the passing time;
E'en there thou haunt'st my secret track,
I catch thee hovering at my back!
Go! wander, by thy gloomy self,
Thy page some foul-begotten elf!
And if thou wilt that some there be
To bear thee fitting company;

The worm-corruption's darling daughter,
The vulture-parasite of slaughter,
The raven-glutted from the gibbet,
Thy fellowship I'll not prohibit!

WE do verily believe there are citizens, not a few, who know not what this means. Yet, by this name was known, for many generations, a building in our churchyard, which our forefathers loved and cherished as the very apple of the eye. All that now remains of it are the north aisle, which has been so long profaned by an abominable heating apparatus; the square bell-tower, with its supporting piers and arches; and the quaint steeple, a comparatively modern addition to the former, of some four hundred years' standing!

Unquestionably, these are the most ancient ecclesiastical remains in the district. In the tower still hangs the bell "Lawrence," more familiarly "Lowrie," which was placed there five years before a stone of the cathedral of St. Machar was laid in

1357. Of the precise date of the foundation of this ancient church there is no record. The Parson of Rothiemay (without giving authority) says it began to be built in the year 1090, during the reign of Malcolm Canmore; and he speaks of it as being in his day in good repair, although then (the seventeenth century) six hundred years old. The chartulary of the church (which ought to be among the city archives) throws no light on the subject, for the oldest entry therein is under date 1342. The citizens of old used to speak of this fabric proudly and affectionately, as their "mother church." The church of St. Nicholas, of which the Bishop was Vicar, is expressly mentioned in a Bull of Pope Adrian IV.; and there is no ground for the belief that the establishment, then and there referred to, was other than the fabric of which some fragments remain in our day.

Doubtless a very considerable period elapsed between the foundation and completion of the original building. War, pestilence, famine, and lack of means, were all serious drags on the progress of such works. That such incidents had obstructive influence in the case referred to is apparent from traces of the transitional style in the fabric. There is reason to believe that the original building commenced with the nave, which occupied the site of the present West Church, increased by fifteen feet in length westward, but diminished, in the side aisles,

by several feet. The arches of this nave were round-headed, like those still supporting the tower, but their piers were probably of somewhat older type. The original church had a transept, yet no choir with side aisles, as latterly, but merely a chancel, rather more in length than either limb of the original transept. When that which was called the old East Church was taken down in 1837, to make way for the present preaching hall, the foundations of the ancient chancel were, for the first time, discovered. The eastern end was round-Byzantine-a peculiarity (in connection with other considerations), decisive of its reference to the early part of the twelfth century. Parties familiar with the details of Durham Cathedral (built by Canmore), have traced a similarity of style even in the few remains of our church, which has been referred to the same period. Taking, then, into account a variety of considerations, purposely omitted in this popular notice, we should be disposed to ascribe the commencement of the original church to the time of Canmore, and its completion, in the main, to that of Malcolm IV. At the time when the old East Church was taken down, two stones, of the same material as the ancient fabric, were discovered (by the writer) in the stairs which then led up from the aisle to the ringing-chamber. They had evidently formed one in some part of the ancient church: