thorised by Act of Parliament, to ordain men for the colonies. There was nothing wrong in this; it was simply an exercise of legitimate power on the part of the state, whereby the dioceses of these prelates were so far extended, as that all foreign places, supporting no bishop of their own, were placed under the guidance of their Episcopal authority. But the British Parliament seems absolutely determined that no act shall be passed by it relating in any way to church affairs, into which some objectionable clause shall not be foisted. In the case before us, for example, the prelates above-named are commanded to ordain for the colonies, but they are to ordain specially on such occasions, the speciality to be stated in the letters of orders; in other words, they are to convey to certain persons a character partly spiritual, and partly not spiritual,-spiritual as long as they reside in certain climates and countries, but losing its spirituality as soon as they quit them !!In like manner, the Bishops of Quebec, Nova Scotia, and Calcutta, as well as the two newly consecrated Bishops of the West Indies, are bishops to all intents and purposes, and are acknowledged as such within the precincts of their own dioceses; but let them quit these dioceses and visit England, they immediately cease to be bishops at all. The orders which they confer are not acknowledged here; indeed, persons ordained by the three last, are declared positively incapable of holding preferment, or acting as ministers of the established church in any way, or on any pretence what ever. Were not the subject under consideration far too grave and too important to permit the exercise of the powers of ridicule, what a field for their exercise is here presented!—But pass we on to other and still more extraordinary matters. It is a curious fact, that, whilst the British Parliament thus wages war, as it were, against the spiritual character of the Established Church, straining every nerve to bring Protestant Episcopacy into contempt, it has left the spiritual character of the Church of Rome in a great measure unmolested. Thus, whilst a clergyman, ordained by the Bishop of Calcutta, or Jamaica, or even by the Archbishop of Canterbury, under particular circumstances, is pro hibited from holding preferment, or even officiating in an English church, a Popish priest has only to renounce the errors of Popery, and to subscribe the thirty-nine articles, when he instantly becomes a clergyman of the Church of England. That man may officiate wherever he pleases; he may hold preferment in any part of his Majesty's dominions; indeed, I am mistaken if there be not at this moment a convert from the Church of Rome upon the Episcopal Bench of Ireland. How happens this?-It is extremely proper, indeed it is unavoidable, that orders conferred by the Romish Church should, at least by us, be admitted to be valid all over the world; for if they be not valid, our orders, which are undoubtedly derived from them, must be invalid also. But why grant to Popish priests privileges which are denied to clergymen ordained by Protestant bishops, when the orders of the one are quite as canonical as those of the other? I have said, that a clergyman ordained by a Roman Catholic Bishop has only to renounce the errors of Popery, and subscribe the thirty-nine articles, when he becomes instantly a minister of the Established Church; but it is necessary that I should qualify this assertion. It is only in case the conforming party chance to have been ordained abroad, that his orders are received in the English Church. If, on the other hand, he have derived his spiritual character from a Popish bishop resident in England or Ireland, then is he in the situation of a priest ordained by a Scottish or West Indian bishop; he must be ordained again, if he desire to serve at the altar of the Church of England!!!-Surely acts like these must have passed through both Houses of Parliament at a time when the members were asleep, or engaged at some dinner-party, such as was given on a late occasion to the Whigs, by Mr M. Angelo Taylor.— What possible difference can there be between the spiritual authority of a Romish bishop in Dublin, and a Romish bishop in Lisbon? I will not pursue this subject any farther at present, lest those of your readers who take but little interest in such speculations should think that you devote too many of your columns to a subject so dry; but I cannot conclude without entreating every genuine son of the Church to consider what the consequences must sooner or later be, if this state of things go on. The Church of England was never, perhaps, in greater danger than she is at present. Harassed on all sides by increasing sects of Protestant Dissenters, and openly menaced with ruin by the Roman Catholics, it is high time that something like unanimity and zeal for the common cause should prevail among her members. To create this, however, she must again be placed in such a situation as to enforce the respect of all thinking persons. She must be delivered from the thraldoin into which she is at present cast; nor can any more effectual means be devised for obtaining so desirable an end, than by vesting her once more with the power of legislating in spiritual affairs, for herself. In plain language, RESTORE THE CONVOCATION. CHAPTERS ON CHURCHYARDS. CHAP. VI. burn-that we should dine early and set out early, to enjoy a fine long sum mer evening in rambling about there with our books and pencils-that we should go in a car, and that we should go that very evening. Don't you remember all this, dear friends of mine? Not far from the town of ―, in -shire, where I passed some weeks in the early part of the present summer, is the pleasant village of Halliburn, much resorted to by persons visiting the county, sojourners in the adjacent town-health-hunters, view hunters, antiquity-hunters, felicity--and how quickly we dispatched our hunters,-Time-killers; in short, to whom anything serves for a lion, and as a point in view for an hour's excursion. But there are really things worth seeing in and about that same village of Halliburn, as those friends can bear witness-those dear fellowview-hunters, in whose company I explored it. They will remember, how, after sundry and various consultations, as to when we should go, and how we should go, and at what time, and for how long, and after consulting the Guide-book, and recalling all we had ever heard reported of this or that place, by such or such a person; and after all talking together for an hour, and each suggesting a different plan, and one premising on the best authority, that such a road was in an impassable state, and a second rejoining, from still better authority, that it was as smooth as a gravel walk-and one prophesying it would rain, and the rest staking their lives that it would not rain-and some proposing to walk, and others to ride and one voting for a car that would hold all, and another for a brace of donkey-carts-the matter in debate, at last, resolved itself into something of a settled plan, our clashing votes subsiding like a parcel of little frothy waves into one great billow; and it was definitively agreed, that we should go to Halli dinner, and how we packed up the pencils and sketch-books?-and how James was sent off for a car, of which description of vehicle, one of us averred there were hundreds to be hired at every corner-and how James was gone a mortal time-and how we called him all sorts of names—“ loitering," and "stupid," and "blind," and what not-and how he came back at last, looking as innocent as a dove, and puffing like a grampus—and how it turned out that there were but two cars in the whole place, and that by superhuman exertions he had at last secured one of them-and how we flew down stairs and found it at the doorand how it was a very odd-looking vehicle! mounted up like a tub upon stilts and how it cocked up so behind, we could hardly scramble inand how, when we were in, we looked at the horse, and did not like him, and then at one another, and did not like each other's looks—and how we went off at last, bang! with such a jerk, as jerked us altogether in a bunch, with our eight hands up in the middle, like four pigeons in a pie-and how we tore down the street like fury, and whisked round the corner like a whirlwind-and how the beast of a horse pranced, and snorted like a griffinand how one of us vowed he was a griffin, and no mortal horse-and how another of us was partly of the same opinion-and how we all hated the irregularity of his proceedings, and the jolting, and swinging, and bumping of the tub-and how at last we all at tacked the driver, and insisted on getting out—and how we all blest our stars on once more touching terra firma-and how we found out that we had narrowly escaped the fate of Mazeppa, having actually been tied on to the tail of a wild horse, whose proprietor had allotted to us the honour of breaking his spirit, or our own necks. Out of evil often good proceedethour proud spirits were humbled. We had enough of prancing steeds, and jumping chariots-we had tasted of exaltation, and were satisfied-we had been set up aloft, and were glad to come down again-so with meek minds, and amiable condescension, we entrusted ourselves, deux à deux, to a couple of donkey carts, and off we were once more!-Ours, you know, Lilias! leading the way. And, don't you remember-can you ever forgetthat blear-eyed goblin, that attended us as a running footman? shuffling along by the side of his donkey, and regaling us, chémin faisant, with his amiable conversation. One of his eyes, you know-the right-with its little rusty tuft of eye-brow, had wandered half-way up into his forehead; the other (leaving a long, black, shaggy eye-brow in its natural place) had dropped down hill (languishingly half closed) towards the left corner of his mouth, which lovingly twitched upwards to meet it half-way; and lis nose was puckered down all on one side into the cheek, by a great red and purple seam; and he was all over seamed and speckled with black, red, and purple, for the poor wretch had evidently been blown up and halfroasted some time or other, though never the worse for it when we had first the happiness of beholding him, except in the afore-mentioned trifling disarrangement of physiognomy, at which, for my part, I was so far from conceiving any manner of disgust, that I thought the countenance had more than gained in character and expression, (which is everything you know,) what it had lost in the trifling point, regularity of features. There was something infinitely piquant! something inexpressibly wild and pictu resque (quite Salvatorish) in the tout ensemble! the whole face had undergone a facequake! and sparks of the volcanic flame were yet visible in the one little ferret eye, that gleamed in his forehead like a live coal, as he ran on beside us, now vehemently exciting his donkey to super-donkeyish exertions, now declaiming to us, with all the fervour of a dilletante guide, on views, antiquities, curiosities, fossils, minerals, snail-shells, and Roman pavements. He was a jewel of a guide! "Take him for all in all, we shall not look upon his like again!" Well! you remember we alighted (unlighted, as an old lady of my acquaintance used to say,) at the entrance of the village, and there again debate ensued, as to where we should first shape our course. There was the church-a fine old church! to be seen, and perhaps sketched. There was a famous grotto, of which the Guide-book told wonders; and, lastly, there was, within a pretty walk of the church, an old, old house, the oldest in the county, a manor-house, the property of one of the most ancient families in the kingdom, the family of the De la Veres. That venerable mansion was, I believe, the greatest attraction to us all; but, like dainty children, we set it aside for bonne bouche, and decided to begin with the grotto. Strange misgivings crept over us, when we were directed through the village street, to the door of a mean-looking house, and told that was the entrance to "the cool cavern! the mysterious grot !"-and when, instead of a Nymph, a wood or water-nymph, an Oread, a Dryad, or a Hama-dryad, there came forth to greet, and introduce us to the romantic solitude, an old, frightful, painted hag, with her elf-locks bristling out in papers like porcupine quills from under the frills and flappets of a high French cap, and in her ears, (prodigious ears they were!) two monstrous gold rings, that looked like the handles of a copper tea-urn. We shrank back at sight of this Gorgon, but she strutted towards us with her arms a-kimbo, and there was a sinister determination in the tone in which she said to us, "Walk in, ladies, and see the grotto." She looked determined that we should see it, and we looked at her claws and her fierce eyes, and felt she was not a person to be affronted; so, as our evil stars had led us to the entrance of her den, we submitted to fate, and followed the sylvan goddess-followed her through a dark, dirty, narrow passage, out at a little mean door, into an enclosed back-yard, about forty feet square, divided into four compartments, containing a parterre-a wilderness-a castle-and the Grotto! -and over the entrance to this Elysium, was flung a wooden arch, paint ed sky-blue, whereon it was notified in gold letters, that "the whole was to be seen for the inconsiderable sum of sixpence a-head; moreover, that tea and rolls, and all other refreshments, were furnished on equally reasonable terms." Oh ye Gods!-so we poor innocents had been betrayed into a sixpenny teagarden, and, sure enough-therejust opposite to us-perched upon a grass mound, in the-the-the donjeon keep of the castle, I suppose, sat six merry mortals, in a state of earthly beatitude, their faces shining in the red-hot evening sun like fresh_varnished vermilion coach-pannels, swilling tea and negus, and stuffing down hot rolls, bread and butter, and cold ham, with most romantic fervour. We paid our sixpences, and made our retreat as quietly and civilly as possible, having first, to pacify our conductress, poked our noses into the dirty coal-hole, stuck with bits of glass, oyster and periwinkle shells, which she called "The Grotto;" and you, my dear Lilias, had the complaisance to mount up to the battlements of the castle, (where, by the by, you looked like Sister Anne in Bluebeard,) in compliance with the Gorgon's importunities. To you, therefore, we were indebted for her gracious patronage, when, on inquiring, as we left the enchanted garden, whether strangers were allowed to see Halliburn House, she replied, with a consequential toss of her head, that she was well known there, and that if we applied to the butler in the name of "Madam Simpson of the Grotto," we might be sure of immediate admittance. So much for the first of our three lions; and truly we had obtained sixpennyworth for our sixpence, in the patronage of "Madam Simpson of the Grotto." Five minutes' walk brought us to the next object in our itinerary, and here no shock awaited us. No human Gorgon-no officious guide-no Madam Simpson, to fling open the low white wicket, and cry, "Walk in, ladies, for sixpence a-head." Sole guardians of the gate, two fine old maples arched over it their interwoven boughs; and many others, and several majestic elms, were grouped together, or stood singly, in and about the churchyard. A few cottages, with pretty, neat gardens, were scattered around; and at the further end of a broad, smooth grass-plat, parallel with the churchyard, and separated from it only by a low stone-wall, stood the rectory, a long, low, irregularly shaped building, of common brick, and with a tiled roof, but made picturesque by the rich and mellow colouring of age, and by the porches, pent-houses, and buttresses, the additions of many successive incumbents, and by a noble old vine, that covered the entire front, a great part of the long sloping roof, and had even been trained round one of the gables, up to the very top of a high stack of clustered chimneys. Behind the church and rectory appeared an undulating sea of foliage, ancient oak and beech, with here and there a graceful feathery birch, glancing and shivering in the sun, like silvery froth above the darker waves ; and beneath those venerable trees, winded away a broad, shady, park-like road, to which a gate opened from the lane that ran along, behind the church and rectory. That road was the more private approach to Halliburn House, the ancient mansion of the De la Veres, and every object in the surrounding scene was, in one way or other, associated with the past or present circumstances of that venerable race. The whole village had, in former times, been a fief of their extensive lordship, and great part of it was still in their possession. The living was in their gift, and had always been held by a younger son of their house, till the branches began to fail about the old family tree. The church had been erected by their pious progenitors, and many succeeding De la Veres had beautified and enlarged it, and added gallery and organ loft, and adorned the chancel with carved and gilded work, and its long window, with painted glass, emblazoned with the twelve Apostles, and with the family escutcheon; and had enriched its altar with pix and chalice of massy embossed silver, and with fine damask napery, and with high branched candlesticks of silver gilt; and with scarlet cushions and hassocks, bordered with broad gold lace, and sumptuously fringed and tasselled with the same.--And these pious benefactions of theirs, and their good deeds that they did, and the ring of bells that they gave, and the gilt weathercock that they caused to be set up on the church-steeple, and the new face wherewith they did repair and beautify the old clock that was therein, and the marble font that they presented, and the alms-houses that they built, and the school that they endow ed-are not all these things recorded in goodly golden capitals on divers tablets, conspicuously affixed in sundry and several places in the said church; to wit, over the great door, and in the centre of the organ-loft, and in five several compartments along the pannelling of the long north gallery; and to each and every one of those honourable memorials are not the names of the church-wardens, of the time being, duly and reverently appended? And on the left, as you go up the chancel, immediately beside the gilded rails of the altar, is the large, square, commodious pew of the De la Veres, to which you ascend two steps. And its floor is covered with what hath been a rich, bright Turkey carpet; and the damask with which it is lined and cushioned, was once resplendent crimson, now faded to tawny orange, and sorely perforated by the devouring moth. And all the testaments, prayer-books, and hymn-books, lying on the carved oak reading-shelves, are bound in vellum, emblazoned with the arms of the De la Veres, and clasped, or have been once, with brazen or silver clasps. But some of them have bulged out of all bookish shape, and the fine parchment covers have shrunk up like sear and shrivelled leaves. That small, thick prayer-book, in particular, that was once so splendidly emblazoned-One clasp still hangs, by half a hinge, on one remaining cover -the other is quite gone from the curled and tattered leaves. And see! on that blank leaf before the titlepage is some pale, discoloured writing. First, in a fine, delicate, Italian hand, comes the name of "Agnes de la Vere-her Book, And lower down, on the same page, is again written, in larger and more antique characters "Mye deare Childe dyed june ye 26the, 1614, in ye 19the yeare of her age.— "Ye Lord gave, & ye Lord takethe awaye. Blessd be ye name of ye Lord!" Those words have been blotted as they were written, but not alone by the unsteady hand of the writer. The book falls open at the Psalms. See! at the xxth morning of the month-and there! there!-in that very place, almost incorporated by age into the very substance of the paper, are a few stiff, shrunken rose leaves! They fell, doubtless, from the bosom of that young Agnes, on that happy birth-day; and before those leaves were withered, the human flower had dropt into the dust! And now, what matters it, or to whom, that the lovely and the loved was taken hence so early? And all the chancel, and many other parts of the church, are covered with hatchments and monumental tablets of the De la Veres. Of the former, some, so faded and blurred by age and damp, that the proud bend of the milk-white plume, towering from its coronated crest, is scarce distinguishable from the skull that grins beneath, in the centre of its half-obliterated Resurgam."-On the right of the altar, just opposite the family pew, is a railed-in space, containing two monuments.-One of great antiquity; the other very ancient also, but of a much later age. Both are altar tombs. The first-once deeply and richly wrought with curious carved workis worn away (all its acute angles and salient points, and bold projections, flattened and rounded off) to a mere oblong stone, one side of which has sunk deep into the pavement of the church. Two figures, rudely sculptured, are extended on it. One of a knight in armour-(see! that mailed hand is almost perfect,) and of a lady, whose square head-gear, descending in straight folds on either side the face, is still distinguishable, though the face itself has long been worn away to a flat, polished surface-just slightly indented at the place the mouth once occupied. The upper part of the knight's high Roman nose still projects from his demolished visage; and one can |