One baptism true, one creed divine,1 For which the saints have striven.2 The bishop is the head on earth, With children all of the new birth,— The Church is one throughout all time, The Church is one in every clime, She like the sun may hide her light, Yet still she cannot fail; The gates of hell against her fight, From Hymns on the Catechism, by Rev. I. Williams. Robson, Levey, and Franklyn, Great New Street, Fetter Lane. IN the mean while Phoebe took her walk in the grounds, and when tired went to rest in the arbour. She had not been there long when Simon came up, a little disconcerted, perhaps, to see her, but not enough to make him turn back; so he took his seat in silence at the other end of the bench. Phoebe, too, was silent, for their last conversation had made her afraid of him; so she smelt her nosegay and examined the different flowers, that she might seem to have something to do. The nosegay was certainly well worth looking at, for its own beauty as well as for the thoughts it brought along with it. High above all the rest were a profusion of daffodils, fresh and bright, surrounded by dark rich-smelling wallflowers; next came wild anemones, primroses, southernwood, and, what Phoebe prized much, some deep-edge polyanthus; and clustering at the bottom, choice double daisies, and violets, blue and white, sweeter than all the rest. VOL. III. M NOVEMBER 1844. "Those are nice flowers," said Simon at last, to Phoebe's great surprise, for she did not think he would care for them. 66 Yes," said she, gladly; "should you like to have some?" and she placed them in his hand. He gladly took them, and buried his face among the flowers, as if eager to breathe in their sweetness. At length he said: "It is long since I held such a nosegay in my own hand: it makes me think of when I was quite a little fellow, and used to go into the fields and bring home as many daffodils as my two hands would hold. We lived in the country then." "There are not many fields of daffodils," said Phoebe. "There was one at Marsden, however," he answered. "Why, Marsden!" cried Phoebe; "that is close where we live. I did not know we had been neighbours." "Ah! it's a long while ago," said Simon, sighing. "Mother was alive then; and I often can't think I am the same boy I was when she used to take me to church with her, and teach me to say my prayers; and when I used to play about the lanes and garden." "And why did you leave such a nice place?" asked Phoebe. "Father thought we should do better," he replied, "in a town, and that there would be work for the children; so we came to NBut it was a bad change, as it happened; for mother was never strong, and she got worse in the town, and died in less than a year." “Oh, what a loss for you!" cried Phœbe, in a compassionate tone. "You may well say so," he answered, gloomily. Every thing has gone wrong since; and worst of all with me. For my father soon married again; and she never took to me. She was not like my mother, but sharp and cross; and I vexed her by some things I said, and so she has never liked me. And father takes notice of what she says against me, as I don't deny I may sometimes try to provoke her by talking how differently my own mother treated me. But I did not mind it while I was able to work; for I knew I should earn more every year, and could soon take care of myself; it is different now!" His voice faltered as he spoke. "But," said he, rousing himself, "all this has come of these flowers, which made me think of Marsden. It is odd that you should know the place.” "It is not a mile from our house," she answered; "and I often go there with mother." This led to their recalling together all the people at Marsden that both knew; and in such talk, and the pleasure of going back to the happiest and best part of his life, Simon was more cheerful than he had been for many a day. It was a subject, too, that opened Phoebe's little heart to him; and she talked away, and found herself in full description of the sports of next May-day, before she reflected that such a subject might be rather a sad one to him. He would not let her stop, however, though he understood her thought; for he liked to be reminded of all that happened at those merry times, which he could hardly recollect by himself. But together they could go through it all, from the day before, the last day of April, when all the flowers that could be found in field and garden were gathered, and laid by in water for the next morning, to the happy moment when the last flower was placed on the garland by the cleverest and most experienced of the party. Then both related together how May morning was spent in going from house to house to display the beautiful garland, while they sung the May-day song, and collected from all the neighbours who were kind enough to contribute halfpence to their little feast. "And you forget church in the morning," said Phoebe. "I don't think they went to church at Marsden," said Simon. 66 Oh, but they do with us. And Mr. Osborne, our clergyman, likes to see us there. He says holydays are given that we may be happy, and thank God for it; and May-day is one of the holydays in the Prayer-book, and that is why we keep Mayday." Simon sighed. "Mother used to take me to church while she lived; and I used to like to go with father afterwards; but since he married again, he has not cared to go like what he used to do; he says he's tired, and lies in bed on Sunday morning; and so I have not been either." "What, don't you go to church on Sunday?" cried Phoebe. "Oh! that is very wrong of you. Why don't you go to the Sunday-school, and go along with all the other boys?" "Well, father always talked of sending me. But the boys in our yard used to go out in the fields, and I went with them; and we used to have fine fun sometimes, such as I can never have again. But if ever I heard the church-bells ringing, though we were ever so merry, the thought of my mother holding my hand, as she used to do, and taking me to church, used to come into my mind, and take away all the pleasure. And often and often I would have left them all, and walked off to church at once, only I was afraid they would laugh at me; and so I was ashamed.” "That was a pity," said Phoebe, very seriously; and she was silent for a few moments. Then, in a timid tone, she said: "I should like to tell you what I have been thinking about; but will you be angry?" "I don't know what it is," he replied, with a faint smile; "but I'll try not." "Well, I have been thinking this," she answered: "that though yours is such a very bad misfortune, yet there is one thing that may be good in it. You can't go out now with those naughty boys who laugh |