Holy Days of the English Church.

were so atrocious in their character that St. Chrysostom, speaking of this date, calls it 'The Devil's Festival.' But when the danger of these abuses was removed by the establishment of Christianity in the Roman Empire, this Festival began to be observed; and the mystery of our Lord's Circumcision is explained in several homilies of the 5th century, still existing. In England the observance of this Festival was enjoined apparently not earlier than the 13th century; and, at the present time, it is a Feast of obligation,' with special Offices appointed for it, which are all very suitable for the Day. The First Lesson at Matins gives an account of the institution of Circumcision; and the Gospel, of the Circumcision of Christ. The First Lesson at Evensong and the Second Lessons and Epistle all tend to the same end, viz. that since the Circumcision of the flesh is now done away, God has no respect of persons,' and does not require any more of us, in this way, than Circumcision of the heart.'

On the 6th of this month we celebrate the Epiphany, or Manifestation of our Lord to the Gentiles, by means of a star in the sky, which guided some Magi from the East' to the place where the young Child was. The name of Epiphany (a Greek word meaning 'manifestation') was once assigned to Christmas-Day as well, because then our Lord was, in the flesh, manifested. The principal design of the Church in celebrating this Feast is that Her members may show their gratitude to God for manifesting the Gospel to the Gentile World, and Vouchsafing to it equal privileges with the Jews, who had hitherto been His chosen and peculiar people; the first instance of which Divine favour was in declaring the Birth of Christ to the Magi (by which word is probably intended men of high rank who made a study of Astronomy, without, necessarily, practising magical or unlawful arts) from the East. But, in all, there are three great Manifestations. of our Saviour commemorated on this Day; all which, St. Chrysostom says, happened on the same day, though not in the same year. The first, mentioned in the Collect and the Gospel, is the Declaration of the Birth of Christ to the Magi; the second, related in the Second Lesson at Matins, is the Manifestation of the Trinity at the Baptism of Christ; the third, is the Manifestation of the Glory and Divinity of Christ by His first Miracle of turning water into wine, related in the Second Lesson at Evensong. The First Lessons contain prophecies of the increase of the Church by the abundant access of the Gentiles, of which the Epistle declares the fulfilment by the mystery of the Gospel being revealed to them. Some writers have suggested that the seeming Star, which appeared to the Wise Men' in the East, might have been that glorious Light which shone upon the shepherds of Bethlehem, when the angel came to impart to them the tidings of our Saviour's Birth, and which, at a distance, might appear like a star. Astronomical Science, while accounting for this remarkable phenomenon in another way, has, also, confirmed the fact recorded in Scripture. Kepler, the great Astronomer, supposes it to have been a 'conjunction' of the planets Jupiter and Saturn. He says that it was a doctrine amongst Chaldean Astronomers that 'the conjunction of these planets in or near Aries and Libra' (astronomical quarters of the sky) portends some great revolution.' A learned writer well remarks upon this, that neither is it incredible that Divine Provi

dence may have been pleased to use for Its Own purposes an astrological belief, which we have reason to think was entertained by the Jews, and perhaps by the Chaldeans, in connexion with the expectations, then ripe all over the East, as Tacitus and Seutonius' (Roman historians) tell us, of the birth of a great Monarch.' Our common English name for this Festival-Twelfth-night,' marks it out as the conclusion of Christmas-tide. In England at the season of the Epiphany the Sovereign carries, by deputy, offerings to the Altar, in memory of the gold, frankincense, and myrrh, which the Kings of the East' brought to the stable at Bethlehem, more than eighteen hundred years ago. This ceremony takes place annually at the Chapel Royal, St. James's, when two gentlemen of the Household lay a casket, containing the Queen's offering, on the Altar.

From Christmas to Epiphany the design of the Proper Services is to set forth the Humanity of the Son of God; and from Epiphany to Septuagesima to show the Divinity of the Son of Man, by relating in the Gospel some one or more of His first Miracles. The design of the Epistle is to excite us to the imitation of Christ, and to show ourselves His disciples by the practice of Christian virtues.

Septuagesima Sunday falls, this year, upon the 25th of this month, which day is also the fixed Festival of The Conversion of St. Paul. There being exactly fifty days between the Sunday next before Lent and Easter-Day, inclusive, that Sunday is named Quinquagesima (i. e. the fiftieth), and the two immediately preceding are called, from the next round numbers, Sexagesima and Septuagesima (i. e. sixtieth and seventieth). The Church thus early begins to look forward to that Queen of Her Festivals-EASTER. She would recall our minds from the Jubilant Season of Christmas, and, by reflections on the humiliating necessity there was for the Messiah's Advent, prepare us for that mournful Season of Lent; in which, if with deep contrition and lively faith we follow our dear Saviour in His Sufferings, we may rejoice with Him here, and humbly hope to reign with Him hereafter.

6

St. Paul, as we have said, is commemorated (not as in the case of the other Apostles, by his death or martyrdom, but) by his Conversion, on the 25th of this month. His contemporary and fellowlabourer, St. Clement, expressly records that he travelled to the utmost bounds of the West;' and Theodoret, besides other early historians, record that he preached not only in Spain, but also in 'the Isles of the Sea;' so we may reasonably conclude that St. Paul landed on our shores, and persuaded the early inhabitants of Great Britain to embrace the Law of Christ. St. Chrysostom states that the Saint was sixty-eight years old when he suffered his martyrdom. At a place called the Aqua Salviæ, three miles from Rome, St. Paul obtained his second and lasting vision of his Lord at the hands of the executioner. As a Roman he might not be crucified, and so he suffered death by being beheaded. It has been questioned whether he suffered at the same time as St. Peter, but,' says Dr. Cave, 'the best is, which of them soever started first, they both came at last to the same end of the race; to those palms and crowns which are reserved for all good men in Heaven, but most eminently for the Martyrs of the Onristian Fait...'

BLOOMS OF MOOR AND MOUNTAIN.

ILD and barren as the wide expanse of moor may appear, and desolate as the rugged mountain, yet they possess a peculiar beauty and interest of their own, which we shall try to 'seek out.' Fenced off, as it were, from the dominion of man, these uncultivated wastes seem especially under the care of Him Who 'makes the desert and the solitary place to blossom as the rose.' For how wonderful, how beautiful, are the heather-covered hills, purple in the distance, the mountain lakes adorned with floating wreaths of water-lilies, and numerous delicate and fragrant flowers which flourish amongst the bogs and marshes, fens and moorlands !

In the month of January, however, not only moor and mountain, but woodlands, field, and hedge, are bleak and barren enough. The only flower to be seen at this dreary season is a stray blossom of the never bloomless Furze' (Ulex Europaus). Early in spring this

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plant commences throwing out fresh buds, and in the month of May whole mountain-sides may be seen clothed in masses of gorgeous yellow flowers, gleaming in the sunlight like sheets of gold, and shedding a most delicious perfume, borne to a great distance on the summer breezes. They continue beautiful even till late in autumn, and linger on through all the cold winds and bitter frosts of winter for, like the daisy, there is no part of the year in which a furze blossom may not be found, to keep us in mind of the glories of the approaching summer. In Scotland this plant is known by the name of Whin, or Gorse, and is common both on moor and mountain. The botanical name, Ülex, comes from a Celtic word meaning 'sharppoint.' But though considered one of our hardiest plants, and capable of bearing the harsh blasts which sweep over the bleak hillsides, yet it will flourish only in temperate climates, being almost unknown in the south of Europe, or among the cold regions of the north. In Russia it is carefully cultivated in greenhouses; and regarded by the Swedes as a rare and tender exotic. No wonder, then, that Linnæus, the great Swedish botanist, when first he beheld our moorlands lustrous in the sunlight with blaze of vegetable gold,' fell on his knees, and thanked God for having made earth so beautiful. He attempted in vain to introduce the plant into his own country, for even in the garden where he placed it it withered and died. The Furze is an evergreen, and flowers luxuriantly from May until summer is ended; but often during severe winter frosts it may be seen covered with half-opened blossoms, which only await the first ray of sunshine to start into full beauty and fragrance. It is a bushy shrub, from two to five feet high, having long narrow leaves tipped with sharp thorns. The flowers are papilionaceous, or butterflyshaped, and the seed forms in pods, which, when ripe, open and discharge their contents on the surrounding soil. Cattle are so fond of furze that in many places the bushes have the appearance of thick green balls, from every young and tender sprout being nipped off as soon as it shoots forth. It is also a favourite with birds, bees, and butterflies, during the summer and autumn.

This bleak and dreary month of January, in which so many of the most beautiful and delicate plants have taken refuge underground from the wintry storms, furnishes us but scantily with further objects of interest to seek out' on moor and mountain. S. T. A. R.

DEATH BY DRINK.

HIRTY thousand deaths annually by drink! Over how many of these thirty thousand is there the black mourning that has no hope? Innocent children killed off by cold and hunger, slowly starved to death; coffins that hold broken hearts; woman's remorse for virtue lost, gnawing like a vulture at life's very vitals; poor, pitiable wretches, with palsied hands and shrivelled limbs, in loopholed poverty, who would give the world to be able, as in better and bygone days, to love their wives and bless their children, and enjoy the esteem of their neighbours, sinking into death by inches, or staggering at a sudden call up to the bar of judgment.

RUTH'S PORTION.

DR. LESLIE.

T was a bleak December day; the wind was bitterly cold, and the snow was already beginning to fall in great flakes, as a dog-cart drove slowly up the High Street of Mere. Any one in the town would have told you whose carriage it was, for there was no more familiar sight than Dr. Leslie's pleasant, genial face.

He was coming home from a long weary round through the neighbouring villages, where he had done his best to carry healing and nope from one anxious home to another. Still, though work never failed him, the doctor could scarcely be called a successful man, for his large practice was chiefly amongst poor people who could afford to pay him little more than their heart-felt thanks. Much work and little pay,' might have been his motto; and it is true that sometimes the thought would sadden him, for he was no longer young, and had the cares of a large family upon him. But he had a brave heart, and few of his patients, who all looked upon his coming as a ray of sunshine, would have believed what anxious struggles he had at home to keep the wolf from the door.

He was driving carefully over the frozen, slippery road, half blinded by the falling snow, when suddenly he pulled the reins abruptly, and turned to the stable-boy at his side.

'Didn't you hear some one calling me, John ?'

'No, sir; please, sir, I didn't hear nought,' replied the somewhat stupid-looking lad, whose sole energies seemed to be bent on muffling himself under the rug to keep warm.

'Well, I could have sworn I heard my name called,' said Dr. Leslie. 'Just get down, John, and hold the horse, while I look

about.'

Through the snow mist he could just distinguish some one running on the foot-path, and as he listened again, there could be no mistake this time. It was a pitiful voice, crying faintly,

'Doctor! Doctor Leslie! Please stop!' And in another minute a slender, childish figure had overtaken the dog-cart, and stood there, trembling and out of breath, looking up at him.

His kind heart was touched at once by the sad, anxious look in the girl's face, and a glance had shown him that she looked thin and worn, perhaps pinched with cold and hunger.

'What is it, my dear?' he asked, gently. Can I do anything for you?'

Reassured by his soothing manner the child took courage, and began to tell her story in broken words.

'Please to come directly-he has fallen down in a fit—and we don't know what to do.'

Who is it? and where is it?' asked the Doctor, hastily. 'It's my poor grandfather. We live at the Grange: you know it -the old house on the Fosborough Road.'

'All right. Get up beside of me, there's a good girl, and you'll tell me all about it on the way. Now, John, don't lose a minute; there's plenty of room for you, too,' said his master with brisk decision.