ceremony, only grander and more elaborate than those which they witness in the church on feast-days. And looking upon it as such, the actors bring to it a spirit of reverence, of pure enthusiasm and religious fervour which are the real causes of the wonderful charm of the Passion-play, and without which it could not fail to be repulsive. This spirit which inspires the acting throughout, reflects again on the audience, so that to us the Play was like a heart-stirring sermon on the Passion and Death of Christ, enabling us to realise more vividly than we had ever done before, the life of Christ on earth.

The village school also does a great deal for the Play. The school-master must be a musician, and if possible a composer. The children are early taught the elements of music, and to declaim portions of the Passion-play. The boys who show talent may gain a place in the village orchestra, the girls may sing in the church choir. Later on they may have a part given them to perform in the Rehearsal theatre, used during the nine years between each Passion-play. For these people are continually acting; in winter there is a performance almost every week. They act a number of plays written by the Geistlicher Rath Daisenberger, or adapted by him to the Ammergau stage.

The Ammergauers look upon the Passion-play as a precious heirloom. They are very proud of it and never tire of speaking of it. The actors are elected by a committee of forty-five householders with the priest and the Geistlicher Rath. The election takes place the December before the acting. There is little discussion about the chief characters, these having generally been settled by public opinion some time before. There is abundance of material, for everyone desires to take part in it; the greatest honour known to an Ammergauer is that of acting the part of the Christus. Every child above three years old may take part. About 150 children are required for the play, but as there are nearly double

See 'The Ammergau Passion-play,' by P. W. Jackson.

that number in the village and every child would be miserable at being left out, one half take part one Sunday, and the other half the next. It is delightful to be able to say that notwithstanding the world-wide reputation which their play has attained, the Ammergauers remain perfectly unspoilt by the notice which they have excited, and continue to act their play as at first, not for gain or notoriety, but, in devout fulfillment of the pious vow of their forefathers, as a religious service for God's honour and glory and the profit of men's souls. Whether the same will be said in 1890, whether the Passion-play will then retain its original character is a question that admits of doubt. The corrupting influence exercised by an influx of tourists is well known; will Ammergau be able to resist this influence? We trust and hope so, and that in centuries to come 'The great Sacrifice of Atonement on Golgotha' will still be represented as now, making on the hearts and minds of the audience an impression never to be forgotten. May the words of old Daisenberger, in his beautiful preface to the text of the Passion-play, never cease to apply to these peasant-actors. The inhabitants of Oberammergau far from letting themselves be tempted to unworthy pride through the great celebrity which their village has attained, give, with humility and deep thankfulness, the honour to Him from whom all blessing comes; and knowing well that the simple acting of simple peasants could not of itself exercise such attraction, they rightly ascribe the happy result of their efforts entirely to the sublime and holy subject of their play, which lends sacredness and dignity even to the imperfect manner of representation.'

I have endeavoured in this paper to give some idea of the origin and history of the Passion-play, and of the influences which have been at work on it. In our next number I may perhaps give a closer analysis of the play itself.

THE CHILDREN'S PAGE.

A SLIDING EXPEDITION.

Three children sliding on the ice,

All on a summer's day,

The ice fell in, they all were drowned,

The rest they ran away.

Now had these children been at home,
Or sliding on dry ground,

A thousand pounds to one penny

They had not all been drowned.

WELL, to begin with, their names were Masculine, Feminine, and Neuter,—but Neuter was its mother's darling. Her name was Mrs. Gender. Like many other children they did lessons, and of course like many other children they did not like them. So one very hot summer's day Mrs. Gender shut the two eldest up in the schoolroom with verbs to learn, while she went to take a dish of tea with a friend. Neuter, however, being its mother's darling, had nothing to do, and as is usually the case with idle people, it began to be mischievous, and not content with being so itself, it tried to make its brother and sister leave their work. It came to the window and said: 'O Masculine and Feminine, do come out and slide, it is so warm, and the ice is so thick on the pond.' Masculine and Feminine immediately threw down their books, and leaping out of the window rushed off with Neuter. They slid happily for some time, but at last Masculine and Feminine began to fight and both fell down with a bump on the ice, which gave way, and they vanished into the dark water, while Neuter, frightened, ran away and hid, thinking they were drowned. But this was not the case. They had gone down till they reached a large open space in the middle of which was a table. Round this table were sitting a lot of little boys and girls, presided over by an awful personage named Mrs. Grammar, before whom was placed a large bottle

of salts and senna, with which she was dosing them all round. Mrs. Grammar looked at Masculine and Feminine sternly, through her spectacles, and after administering to each of them an immense dose, made them sit down with the rest of the little victims.

Mrs. Gender after taking a fond farewell of her friend returned home, but found the birds flown. Armed with a large birch rod, she went out to find them and at last discovered Neuter in the coal-hole, weeping bitterly. With many tears and sobs it told its mother that its brother and sister were both 'drownded.' 'Shew me the pond,' said Mrs. Gender, and they soon arrived at its edge. The ice was still firm, but there was a large hole in the middle, in which Mrs. Gender began to fish with her birch rod. Soon she felt a tug, and with a vigorous pull out came Masculine. A second trial, and Feminine appeared. Yet another and Mrs. Grammar, table, children, and all were landed on the edge of the pond. Then began a grand battle between Mrs. Gender, armed with the birch rod, and Mrs. Grammar, wielding the salts and senna bottle. One blow from the birch rod-the bottle broke and the contents were spilt over Mrs. Grammar, who dissolved on the spot.

Of course the little boys and girls were released; they all went home and were the best children in the world ever after, while Masculine, Feminine, and Neuter, never shirked their lessons, or went out to slide again, or a summer's day, except on dry ground.

A FEW WORDS ABOUT A PRIMROSE.

THERE was once a little girl who was walking in the fields with her nurse, one fine May morning, just before she went in to do her lessons.

They walked on till they came to a shady part of the field, when Rosie cried, 'Oh, nurse! look at all these primroses." 'Yes, I will sit down, and you may pick them,' said Nurse. When Rosie had finished picking they went home, and put

the flowers into water.

Rosie then went to do her lessons,

and came back at half-past eleven. She then took the primroses to her mother.

'Do you know anything about them?' said Mrs. Harrison. 'Yes, I know they are primroses,' said Rosie.

But there is a great deal to know about them,' said her mother, and I will tell you something about them. Bring me one.'

Rosie brought one and her mother, looking at it, said: 'Look at these beautiful yellow leaves. Each one is called

a petal, and all of them put together are called the corolla; and you see these little spikes, these are called stamens, and the top of each is a little pouch called the anther, which contains a fine dust called pollen. Now look at this long thing in the middle; this is the pistil, and has a sticky head called the stigma, and the stalk of the pistil is called the style. Now let us go back to the anther. There are little slits in the pouch; the pollen falls through these slits on to the stigma, and these together make the seed. At the bottom of the pistil is the ovary, which contains the seed. You see that these beautiful yellow leaves are in a sort of cup, this is called the calyx; now if we cut it and hold it to the light we see that the cup is formed of five little green leaves beautifully veined, and joined together, more than half-way up. There are two sorts of primroses; the one which we have been looking at to-day has a long pistil. About the other I will tell another time.' you A. WIGNALL.

WORDSWORTH.

WORDSWORTH has shown poetry to men in quite a different light to that in which they had been accustomed to see it. Before his time much more attention had been given to the poetical diction than to the thought; and also the subject of a poem was nearly always in celebration of some heroic deeds. But Wordsworth's object was to give life and freshness to