ON

VISITING CATHEDRALS.

LIKE many other people, I am fond of visiting cathedrals, and few persons are more affected by the Gothic arches, the clustering pillars, the carved ceilings, the stained glass windows, and the olden monuments of these ancient temples. I cannot pace the broad gray stones in the ample nave, nor gaze on the cross-legged crusader, in his chain mail, lying on his back; nor on the old lord or baron, kneeling in his trunk hose, without emotions of solemnity, heightened by the pealing organ, pouring by turns its softened harmony and arresting thunder.

I know that these things are but the perishable elements of passing time, but they soften my spirit, awakening within me reflections that humble my proud heart, and dispose my thoughts to meditation. Wherever the dead lie, the spot is favourable to the reflections of the living, but education and habit have, in my case, clothed a cathedral with an influence to which I willingly

surrender myself. The past, the present, and the future, crowd round about me, and impress me with a more feeling persuasion of the fading nature of earthly things. Lichfield cathedral, with its richly-decorated front; Canterbury, with its olden shrines; York, with its splendid window, and the abbey of abbeys, Westminster, with many others, have afforded me much gratification.

Some years ago, having visited Hereford and Gloucester cathedrals, I passed an hour or two in that of Worcester. After admiring several beautiful monuments, I stood in a musing mood opposite that erected to Bishop Hough, when my conductor, a man with a long wand in his hand, came up close to me, and said, "I see, sir, that you admire that beautiful piece of workmanship. Some time ago, Bacon, the celebrated sculptor, came from London on purpose to examine it, and he stood, as you have done, for a long time, just where you are now standing, and in just the same attitude: you quite bring him to my recollection."

Feeling a little flattered that I should, in any way, resemble so distinguished an artist, the remark was impressed on my memory, and I dare say that my gratuity to my conductor was not a niggardly one.

Another year rolled away, and, passing through

Worcester, I paid another visit to the cathedral. My old friend was again in attendance, and accompanied me, while I once more inspected the monuments, as though I had never been in the place before. When I came to that of Bishop Hough, I went to the old spot, crossed my arms, and gazed on the monument before me. In a short time my conductor came up to me, and said, 'I see, sir, you are admiring that monument: it is by far the best piece of workmanship in the place. You very much remind me of the celebrated Bacon, who came down from London on purpose to examine it. He stood just where you are standing, and in the same attitude, and fixed his eyes upon it for nearly an hour: you quite bring him to my recollection."

I could scarcely forbear laughing in the man's face, though I was a little mortified, for it now appeared that Bacon was a standing dish, which my conductor, no doubt, set before every visitor whom he thought likely to swallow it.

Though this affair amused me at the time, when I reflected on it afterwards, I could not but call to mind how much flattery is condemned in the word of God. "He that speaketh flattery to his friends, even the eyes of his children shall fail,” Job xvii. 5. "The Lord shall cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud

things," Psa. xii. 3. These passages of the Sacred Scriptures not only rebuke the sin of flattery, but also point out that it will assuredly be followed with punishment.

In visiting another cathedral, the verger who conducted me, finished almost all his observations by saying, "It was done by our dean." I admired a beautiful monument, "It was put up by our dean." I was struck with the elegance of a costly screen, carved all over with well-executed figures, "It was designed two years ago by our dean." I lingered with pleasure looking on a magnificent window of painted glass, "It came from Italy, and was paid for by our dean." short, so far as the cathedral was concerned, the dean seemed to have done almost every thing, and I could only desire that he might be more free from conceit than the verger appeared to be, and as much interested in the souls of those committed to his charge, as he undoubtedly was in the beauty of his cathedral.

In

A FABLE,

IN ancient times wise men were accustomed to instruct those around them by parables and fables, and men, not over wise, might, even now, pursue the same course with advantage. I am half inclined to try my hand at a fable. If any good can be derived from it, it will be well, and if not, it will only add another to the many instances wherein Old Humphrey, with a good intention, has laboured in vain. Now then, I will begin.

Weak is the head that is not able

To gather wisdom from a fable.

A ship, in olden times, richly laden, and somewhat obstructed by the winds, had on board many inexperienced and discontented seamen, who, though they were very ignorant, took upon themselves the management of the vessel. Over anxious to reach their desired haven, they murmured at the slow progress of the ship, and, consulting together, endeavoured to find out the cause. They knew it could not be the hull,