was he not indeed the representative of government on this solemn occasion? He would have been somewhat mortified had he known that Madeleine was the only individual who excited real interest.

"Though this was a solemn day in her life, she bore it as she did everything, whether of weal or woe, with calmness. She was grave and thoughtful, however, for memory carried her back to all that had occurred during the four years which had elapsed since she had first conceived her bold project. Seeing her abstracted and silent, M. Bignon did not speak; M. Dubois was too much wrapped up in the consideration of his own importance to do anything, save when he occasionally thought fit to administer a sharp reproof to his adjoint. The behaviour of the crowd seemed modelled on that of Madeleine ; every one looked grave and composed, and walked quietly along. In about a quarter of an hour they reached the foot of the hill, on which now arose that hospital which had so long been treated as the dream of an enthusiastic girl. The morning was lovely, and the brilliant sunshine and cloudless azure sky enhanced the romantic beauty of the surrounding scenery; but no one thought of admiring anything save the hospital of Mont-Saint-Jean, with its white walls, green shutters, and slate-covered roof. It was, however, a low, unpretending and unpicturesque looking building, standing in the middle of a large tract of ground, laid out in a manner which showed that advantage had been more consulted than taste or beauty. Still there was an air of comfort about the whole place that made it look like the abode of some wealthy farmer; but, though it was by no means calculated to give the idea of a hospital, every one pronounced it perfect in its way, and declared that it was vastly superior to the building which adorned the chef-lieu of the department. The only token of a public character which the edifice displayed, was the tri-colour flag, which had been hoisted up by M. Dubois' directions, and now waved proudly from the summit of the highest chimney.

"When they were within about twenty yards of the house, Madeleine stepped forward, and taking the lead, advanced to open the door, for she had so arranged matters that all the members of her family might find accommodation for the present without being disturbed by the removal of the furniture. When she stood on the threshold of her new abode, Madeleine paused, with deep emotion, and as she raised her glance to heaven, and clasped her hands fervently, she repeated in a low tone the words of Simeon;

"Now mayst Thou dismiss Thy servant, O LORD, according to Thy Word, in peace; because mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people.'

་་

Marie, who stood near Madeleine, alone heard these words, and marked the look and smile of rapturous joy which dwelt on the features of the speaker, investing them for a while with almost unearthly beauty. But while she was still wondering uneasily what Madeleine's exclamation could signify, her friend turned round, and addressing her family, which now crowded around her, gently said:

...Children, this is your home.'

"The words could not have been more simple, yet many wept on

hearing them, for, as they gazed on Madeleine's fragile form and pale features, all remembered the toil and anxiety which it had cost her to win that home for the poor."

Madeleine's own "home" was far away; and thither she was already rapidly and consciously hastening. Her last earthly hours she desires to spend in the scene of her nativity, that still and hallowed spot, where as she knelt before the figure of her crucified LORD, the "inspiration" had first possessed her to devote her life to the service of Him, in the persons of His poor. The departure of that pure spirit from its house of clay there were no human eyes to witness. Like good Bishop Jolly, she was alone, in that awful hour with GOD and His Angels. Marie Michon, however, was early with her in the morning. Softly she lifted the latch and at length after an anxious watch opened the shutters.

"A stream of rich sunlight fell on the bed, and on the reclining form of the sleeping Madeleine. She was dressed as on the preceding evening, with her grey cloak partly wrapped around her. Her feet were crossed, her hands lay meekly folded on her breast, as if her last thought ere she fell asleep had been one of prayer; her head slightly reclined on her right shoulder, her eyes were closed as though in a pure and holy slumber, and a serene smile lingered on her lips.

"How softly she must be breathing!' thought Marie. She drew near the bed on tiptoe, but still she heard nothing. How strange! She bent over the form of her friend, hushing her own breath to listen; yet all was silent. She pressed the slumberer's cheek with her own, but started back pale and trembling: that cheek was as cold as marble.

**Madeleine!' she exclaimed, in a low husky voice, speak to me; I am Marie; speak to me, Madeleine!' But though the same smile was on the pale lips no voice answered her.

She is asleep, fast asleep!' said Marie, taking up one of her hands between her own. The hand was colder than the cold cheek, and when she let it go, it fell back listlessly. With desperate calmness she laid her hand upon Madeleine's heart; there also all was still. Then Marie knew that everything was over, and clasping passionately the frail form, which had lately been tenanted by a spirit so noble and so pure, she moaned and wept aloud in the bitterness of her anguish.

"How long she remained thus Marie neither knew nor heeded, but her absence caused some alarm at the hospital, where she had promised to return at an early hour. The general impression was that Madeleine was worse, and towards noon several persons, with the parish priest at their head, determined to proceed to the valley. When they reached the cottage, the broken sounds of grief and wailing, which proceeded from it, partly revealed the truth to them. On entering the inner room they found Marie kneeling by the bedside of her friend, one of whose hands lay clasped within her own. Her eyes never moved once from the countenance of Madeleine, and seemed to behold nothing else.

She gave no reply to the questions addressed to her, but continued to rock herself to and fro, with a low plaintive moaning, which told of a grief too deep for utterance.

"M. Bignon was the first to see how matters stood, and turning towards those who had accompanied him thither, he said, in a broken tone, My friends, our Madeleine is gone away.'

The words were but too well understood, as the loud exclamations of grief which immediately filled the room testified. The tidings soon reached the village, and, though few felt surprised, for the declining state of Madeleine's health had long been known,-every one repeated, in a tone of deep sorrow, Our Madeleine is gone away.' It was strange, yet touching, that none spoke of her as being dead, but rather as they might have done of a stranger from some distant country, who had dwelt among them for a few brief years, shedding blessings with her gentle presence, but who, when her task of love was done, had returned once more to her own home.

"Though this feeling gave a peculiar nature to the sorrow of the inhabitants of Mont-Saint-Jean, it could neither banish it, nor the wish which all felt of gazing once more upon Madeleine. 'We must see her again!' was the general exclamation, and for two days the cottage was thronged by sad and reverent visitors. The body, near which Marie still sat, watching it with unwearied love, had been left lying on the bed exactly as she had found it, with the gray cloak wrapped around it, the feet crossed, and the hands meekly folded. The pallid countenance still wore that smile, which had not deserted it, even in death. The whole attitude was so fraught with modest grace and purity, the features looked so calm and serene in their eternal slumber, that many scrupled not to aver that Madeleine had been ministered unto by angels in her last hour, like the saints of the old legends. Some even declared, with the poetical fancies of their imaginative race that several travellers, who passed by the churchyard on the night during which her pure spirit had fled, had heard strains of ravishing and unearthly melody floating from her abode.

It was in vain for M. Bignon to protest, in the name of Madeleine herself, against this belief; it was too well suited to the character of the people not to be universally adopted, and it soon became one of the most popular and cherished traditions of that part of Auvergne."

And now perhaps it will occur to some who have accompanied us thus far, to ask themselves whether what they have been reading must be considered altogether as belonging to the region of romance; or whether we in England might conceivably have a Madeleine Guérin as well as a John Barton.

That we possess at this time in our crowded cities a festering mass of poverty and discontent, such as probably never existed before, is the opinion of most persons. That our Church system is quite unable to cope with such a state of things would also be very generally allowed. Shall Manchester and Birmingham, and Southwark be surrendered to the Chartist and the Socialist in perpe

tuity? And, if not, what machinery are you prepared to recommend with the view of reclaiming them? Preaching, we are persuaded-neither in churches nor by the way-side-will be found effectual. Neither have we much confidence in schools as at present conducted. We have not learnt yet to instruct, much less to educate. And as for discipline, can we say that it exists in the English Church? Most thankfully indeed do we acknowledge that in all these her several functions the Church is exhibiting symptoms of amendment. A more exact system of theology is growing up amongst us, in combination with a freer and more earnest manner of preaching. A more intelligent and devoted body of schoolmasters and mistresses is, we hope, under process of training: there is even a yearning after the godly discipline of primitive times. But look at the work before us-the fields already ripe to the harvest, and, what is worse, the ground as yet fallow or not broken up-and who shall say that labourers more and better prepared are not imperatively needed? There are indeed those, and it appears, not a few, who look to relief from other quarters, who, with Miss Bremer, expect some new diffusion of light and truth and goodness into the world, which shall dispel all evil, and falsehood, and selfishness. But do persons consider that the supposition involves the departure from the established order of GoD's Providence? Has He not said that, as we sow, so shall we likewise reap? And what have we sown in England? Certainly nothing that should produce any such blessed fruit. Rather should we look for a harvest of disobedient wills and intemperate lives, the product in short of the heart uncultivated by any religious discipline. The LORD'S vineyard has in truth been left well nigh desolate among us: the labourers are still but a scanty ill-equipped band. More must be hired labourers of various ranks and degrees, more Priests, more Deacons, more schoolmasters and mistresses, more devoting themselves professedly to temporal works of mercy. It is impossible to observe the great and apparently increasing estrangement between the classes of society without feeling that there is a call upon the Church to seek in the very first place the mitigation of this most appalling evil. Had she at no period of her history possessed an agency suited to such a work, it would have been her duty to provide for the emergency by some new development of her resources. But when we find that she has from the very Apostolic days sanctioned both men and women in the dedication of themselves to the service of the poor and afflicted; yea, and that even those Protestant communities who have made it a point of conscience to depart as widely as possible from the medieval Church have successfully employed such an agency, there can surely be no reasonable doubt that we are called upon, unless (which is not likely,) some new and better plan can be devised, to encourage the revival of this machinery among ourselves. Provided that the single rule which

guided Madeleine in her exertions be observed, viz. to follow the will of God, or, to put it in a less religious mode of speech, to be guided by circumstances, and we do not see that any risk is incurred. Let persons only be prepared to do what their hand findeth to do, and they will not wait long for a place among the Church's authorized servants. On the one hand there are the ignorant to be taught, and the sick to be visited; and on the other a body of Clergy becoming daily more and more convinced that they have more work than they can do; and that no effectual aid can be given them by irregular volunteers, or untrained and unaccredited labourers. In this, as in all other of the Church's works, there is needed a sound faith, a holy life, a chastened will; and for such qualities there is no security even when the religious feeling is strong and undeniable. They are the result of patient training and self-discipline, and of submission to an external law. And, if we mistake not, the times are coming when many Madeleines will arise among us, devout and zealous, yet soberminded women, who will force the Clergy to take them into their service. May the Clergy be found, if not bolder in faith than M. Bignon, at least as willing to be instructed in their duty, and as ready to recognize GOD's handiwork when exhibited before their eyes.

BISHOPS: ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

1. Speculum Episcopi. The Mirror of a Bishop. London: Edwards and Hughes, 1848. pp. 318.

2. Primary Charge of the Bishop of Oxford. London: Rivingtons.

THE book which stands first in our list, and which we have already briefly noticed, is in many respects a remarkable publication, for it attacks abuses which many people seem to think are consecrated, and so have not been much dwelt upon, except by those who are enemies of the Church. Though anonymous, it is, we feel sure, from the pen of a Clergyman; and we have perhaps a veritable portrait of the author, which some of our readers between the Severn and the Wye, may possibly recognize, in pp. 198-200 of his book. It is not written in a bad spirit, and it cannot justly be called personal, because it is not directed against individuals but against a system which can only be exhibited and illustrated by the actions of those who live in and constitute that system. There is no doubt but that the abuses alluded to, and exposed in the book, are real; indeed we believe there is scarcely a Clergyman who has not seen or heard of most of them; and though the pages of it