temptation to them. They have never got into your bad habits; and, as they are obliged to go into the fair, and have, no doubt, placed themselves under the protection of God, and prayed not to be led into temptation, I have no fear for them; but for you, Charles, I do indeed tremble." "I am not going to the ale-house," he answered, putting on a look of settled determination to have his own way, which gave me but little hope. "So you say," I replied; " but I am sure you cannot feel certain of it. You will, in all probability, be enticed to enter it by some companions: you will refuse at first to take any thing; but they will laugh at you, till you feel ashamed of being different from them: you will take one glass; and, when once you have taken that, there will be very little hope left for you. You will almost certainly go on from one to another, and another, till your reason will forsake you, and you will be reduced to a state which will make you an object of disgust and loathing to every one, and you will have entered again upon a course which must end in your ruin both in this world and (which is far more dreadful) in the world to come. And all for what? Because you cannot now resist the inclination you feel to walk with an idle companion, instead of employing yourself in your own home.'

"But there can be no harm in a walk," persisted Charles.

"Certainly not," I replied; "but you know full well that you are deceiving yourself. If the walk is your object, go in some other direction. But," I added more earnestly, "you need only ask yourself what has been the consequence of your former visits to the fair, to know that I have indeed fearful reason for my warning. And O, Charles, for the sake of the parents whom you once loved so well, for the sake of your unhappy sister, and, above all, for the sake of the promise which you made at your baptism to keep the commandments of God, let me implore you to refrain this once from following your own will: it may be that your happiness for ever may depend upon this moment."

Charles made no reply, and turned towards the door; but Mary, starting from her seat, caught hold of him, and, with a look of anguish, such as I shall never forget, exclaimed, No, Charles; you shall not, you must not go. Oh, sir; pray have pity on me, and prevent him!"

66

The young man appeared somewhat moved by this distress, and again declared, in rather a softened voice, that he was not going to the alehouse.

"It is in vain," I said, "to talk of what you will or will not do. You are going into temptation; and I solemnly warn you, as a minister of God, that his protection will not go with you. If you do not care for that, have you no thought for the suffering of one who would willingly look to you as her greatest earthly comfort ?"

Well, well," said Charles, turning to his sister, who still held him, "don't cry so, Mary, and I will not go to-day: I will tell John Browne that he must set off without me."

"Let me go," I said, "while you remain here with your sister. I should like to speak to him." "I won't give you that trouble, sir," he replied: "I had rather go myself."

"You had better not," said Mary: "he will laugh at you; and then, perhaps, after all, you will break your resolution."

"Nonsense, Mary," he interrupted, angrily; "do you think me a baby, that I cannot keep my promise for two minutes?"

"You do not know your own weakness," I said: " you have made this promise hastily, and you may be induced to break it hastily. You had far better keep from any thing approaching to temptation at this moment, and ask God to give you his strength: if you trust to yourself, there can be nothing to depend on."

But Charles would not listen. Before I could add another word, he had left the cottage, and was running at full speed down the lane. At first I attempted to stop him; but it was quite in vain. I then took a short path to the place where I thought it most likely his companion would be waiting for him; but, when I reached it, no one was to be seen. I tried another direction, but still unsuccessfully; and at last, sorrowful and disappointed, I returned to Mary's cottage with but faint hopes of finding him within; for a feeble resolution, made in his own strength at the sight of a woman's tears, was not for a moment to be depended on. Mary ran to the door, as she heard my step; but a bitter look of regret came across her as she saw me alone.

"Is he not coming with you?" she inquired eagerly.

"No," I said; "I have not been able to overtake him; but perhaps he will be here soon."

Mary shook her head; and though I tried to raise her hopes, my own were in truth but very faint. Minute after minute passed, and no Charles came; and at last my doubts amounted almost to certainty; and, after remaining nearly an hour, I was obliged to leave Mary, with the promise of making immediate inquiry, that she might at least be relieved from the misery of suspense. My questions were answered as I had expected. Charles had been seen on the road to the fair, accompanied not only by Browne, but by two of the worst characters in the village. It was a sad tale to carry back to poor Mary; and when I told her of it, her grief was so great, that I felt almost as much as if her brother had been my own. But she was little prepared for the news which reached her the next morning. Charles, as was naturally to be expected, had been enticed to the ale-house; and, having there met with a recruiting-sergeant, he had been persuaded, in a fit of intoxication, to enlist; and his regiment being one that was ordered immediately to a foreign land, it was all but certain that she would soon part from him, never to meet again on earth. The news was first brought to me; and I do not think I had ever a more difficult or painful task than that of breaking it to one already so bowed down by suffering. At first Mary did not comprehend it; and, when she did, she spoke no word of reproach, she uttered no murmur: it was a grief too deep for ordinary expressions; and, although she listened with gratitude to my words of comfort, and joined with solemn earnestness in the prayer which I offered for her unhappy brother, I saw from that moment that the hand of death was upon her; for her cup of trial was full.

FAMILY READING*.

FAMILY reading, which may easily be rendered sufficiently attractive by borrowing from the stores of general knowledge, will ever be found a source of pure delight and of certain benefit to the sanctified mind; but, before it can prove generally useful, it must be made in some measure agreeable to those who are yet to be won over to an attention to spiritual subjects. Religion is more likely to suffer, especially amongst the young, by being recommended in an injudicious manner, than is commonly supposed; and there are few who, when they reflect, do not remember some examples in which efforts to promote a respect for godliness, through the medium of perusing serious books in the domestic circle, have entirely failed of success; and others, in which they have positively been even the means of creating a dislike to it. It should be a primary object with those whom God in his providence has placed in the responsible station of rulers over their own households, to make the entire management of them at once conformable to Christian principles, and, as far as is possible, conveniently systematic, so as that the inmates may be conscious of something that is pleasing, in whatever may be the particular part which each is to take towards the attainment of a due subordination of the whole to the

will of the Lord.

Few things, indeed, are likely to contribute more to the advantage of mankind, than a desire faithfully cherished in the bosom of parents, that, as their families grow up around them, the parental fireside should be the scene of the greatest amount of happiness to all-that from every pursuit and engagement, from every relaxation or amusement abroad, the heart of each should turn with pleasurable feelings to a loved and valued home. It is the plan of our heavenly Father, that, when man finally comes to dwell for ever with him in the light and glory of his perpetual presence, he is to attain the climax of his happiness: it is a part of that plan, too, that, even in the discipline and preparation through which man is to pass here, as making him meet to be a partaker of the inheritance of the saints in light, the moments of his deepest satisfactions (deep and settled within, in proportion as there may be pain and trouble from without) should be those in which he is conscious that he is indeed abiding with him, even though at that very time he may be severely chastising him; for he teaches us to know that it is a father's love that comes to us with the rod which gives us pain. The father, after the flesh, who is a king and a priest in his own house, is God's representative in respect of both these offices, as well as in his character of a parent; and, as he loves and honours his Lord, it will be among the highest objects of his ambition to learn and labour to fulfil the duty which such a state of life imposes upon him; and, in all the anxiety and application which he bestows upon

• From "Essays for Family Reading; intended to counteract

the Errors of the Tracts for the Times,' by the rev. James Graham, M.A., curate of Templemore." London: F. Baisler. The views here advanced by Mr. Graham were precisely those which led to the publication of the "Church of England Magazine." The volume is really a most valuable one, and calcu

lated, in the present state of the church, to be the means of effecting much good. Mr. Graham writes forcibly and clearly. -ED.

its effectual discharge, he will fervently implore the Giver of all good and Author of all grace to grant that, while he administers the needful admixture of encouragement, instruction, and chastisement, he may secure for himself a share in the best affections of all who are committed to him.

And how can this be more effectually accomplished than by the solemn care of every one who presides over a household to have a regular, a wholesome, and a pleasing supply of religious instruction, ever ready to be intermingled with the sacred services of prayer, and reading the scriptures? The divine comparison which speaks of the communication of spiritual knowledge as the giving of food, was, like all the similitudes employed by our Saviour, happily chosen. Sustenance for the mind and for the soul is to be selected with as much delicacy and exactness of care, as ought to be applied in providing the aliment on which our bodies subsist. It must be kept as free from all extraneous matter. It must be beyond the suspicion of corruption. It must be used in safe but sufficient quantities, and that at frequent intervals: a deficiency will be fatal--too much may do harm. A noble guide, drawn from this comparison, is thus furnished by an incidental expression of Christ, by which we may be regu.. lated in the distribution of family religious knowledge. A judicious use of it in every Christian house will prove the best preservative of the rising generation from the unceasing efforts which are made to publish what is doubtful or bad. There can be no question but that a taste for religion may be acquired at home; where, however, there is reason to fear, prejudices against it are too often caused, either by its total neglect and violation, or by a sad inconsistency between what is inculcated and what may be practised, or by the defective mode of recommending it already noticed.

Nor is it (as some might think) any mistrust of the gracious influence of God's Spirit, to endeavour to lead the mind of young people, of rather an advancing age, to right religious perceptions, through the medium of matters which occur in their general studies, and which, though not apparently in any way connected with religion, are nevertheless capable of a close application to its principles and purposes. On the contrary, revelation may be materially supported in the opinion of every student, of whatever age or sex, by a proper employment of almost all subjects which are met with even in a course of general education; and it will by no means be found difficult to enable the learner to find pleasure both in a knowledge of the facts accumulated in the memory, which are always interesting as to their order and place, in nature or in metaphysics, and to derive real gratification from an acquaintance with the relation which they all must bear to revealed truth, and the power with which they may assist us to elucidate and confirm it: to overlook this in our desires to make religion agreeable to the youthful mind would be to deprive ourselves of a legitimate and powerful instrument. There are, indeed, in the present day, more than usual helps in this department of our duty: the general tendency of pulpit instruction has much improved within the memory of every one; so that, wherever we have a preacher now, whatever may be his disposition as to opening out the doctrines of grace in a free

:

and lively way, he is more or less compelled to bring forth better stores than were usually drawn upon hitherto there is more exposition of scripture, there is more extended notice of motives and principles, and certainly there is a greater degree of attention directed to the subject of family religion. Besides this, the press teems wonderfully with good publications on almost every conceivable subject that can be connected with our eternal interests; and, although this may at first sight seem an evil, by causing perplexity in the selection, and even affording opportunity to some to put forth dangerous opinions, yet we cannot but witness in it the surprising proof it makes manifest, that God is in deed and in truth among us, that his Spirit is at work, that he is now imparting a stimulus to the mind of man to go to his fellow-man with the words of life, and publish to a perishing world the glad tidings of salvation. It is remarkable, too, that this is almost peculiar to England, which seems to be a further indication than has already appeared, that she is to be the grand instrument of God's renovation of universal man. We have a greater number of clergymen, too, and of churches, and more frequent opportunities of intercourse between the people and their ministers; so that all are inexcusable who venture to allow their children to remain without being trained to godliness, until they arrive at an age when, perhaps, the power and the opportunity of leading them to favourable opinions of the gospel are both gone for ever-an age when character takes its turn for life, and when youth must be introduced into the world either with the principles of religion expanded and confirmed in their minds, or else be left wholly defenceless from the solicitations of sin, and from the assaults of infidelity. So serious are the consequences of losing the benefit of that domestic teaching and example which have often, even when least expected, exercised a secret, but at the same time a most powerful, influence over the whole worldly career of men.

PAROCHIAL INCIDENTS.

No. I.

Hopwood has closed her shop, and will not sell even a cake to a child. This is all very radical. The signs of the times are very portentous." Now the word "methodist" conveyed no very distinct notion to Frank's mother's mind, and not much more to Frank's own; but she knew it was something dreadful, and it was very infectious. It had nothing on earth to do with Wesley or Whitfield but it was an indescribable something. She had heard it condemned loudly, and knew it was opposed strenuously.

Until methodism had appeared to mar its harmony, Dwas a very pleasant village, famed for its Sunday cricketing under the especial patronage of a wealthy proprietor, Frank's father. Its wake was the envy of the surrounding parishes; as well it might, for no where else was there so much revelry. In the books of the great brewer at C- it occupied a high place, for the potations of his liquors. The county gaol could always boast of having at least one inmate from that parish; and a person acquainted with the neighbourhood, who perchance had emigrated to far distant lands, would have discovered a well-known face or two among the convict gangs of Sydney of Van Diemen's Land.

Such was the calm and peaceful and exemplary state of D-- when methodism began its ravages. How had it come there? Had the emissaries of Wesleyanism, falsely so called-falsely, for in almost every point the Wesleyans seem to depart from the rules of their founder, if thus they will be pleased to term him-sought it out as a scene of labour? No such thing. Neither Wesleyan, nor home missionary, nor baptist, nor independent had ever laboured there, strange as it may appear; but somehow or other it had got in, and it had spread, notwithstanding the threats of the squire and the expostulations of his lady, whose dear and only son Frank was. Nor were the young ladies, save one, less strenuous in their opposition. Vital godliness may be found in a parish in which itinerating preacher has never trod, chapel-house never been erected, class meeting never been assembled. There are quarters where this would not be believed, where all is regarded as dark and dreary, save where schism

DAME JOBSON.

"AND so old nurse Jobson has turned methodist," said Frank D- to his mother and sisters, as he returned from college, where he had just graduated, and most deservedly, with honours. "Well, I shall soon get that out of her, you shall hear no more of her methodism."

"I wish you would, Frank," said his doting mother: "I cannot bear such people. I fear, however, there is a great increase of them in the village. Old farmer Hicks and his daughter have caught the infection. No more smoking on a Sunday afternoon, with his ale before him, at his gateway; looking so cheerful, and throwing halfpence and apples to the children to scramble for. The whole family go to church. And old Betsy

This series, which appeared in the magazine, is also published separately. Second edition, with Frontispiece. London : Edwards and Hughes.

Now, who was nurse Jobson? She was an old servant in the family of Frank's grandfather; had married the butler, who died within a few years of the marriage; and she, childless, had always continued an adjunct to the establishment. She had been Frank's nurse; and, when his boyhood grew apace, and he was emancipated from nursery trammels, she was pensioned off, to a small cottage on the verge of the property, and enough allowed to make her comfortable for life. No cottage was more neat than that of nurse Jobson, externally and internally. One of the gardeners sowed her flowers and trimmed her shrubs. The squire himself called in once or twice a week; and, at the Christmas festivities, in the servants' hall, the dame occupied a chief place. On a fine summer evening she might be seen at her cottage-door, her little table before her, her large cat beside her, her green-baized covered bible close by the stocking she was knitting. She was what was termed an excellent, good, pious woman, a perfect pattern of what an old woman should be; only she was ex

ceedingly bad tempered, and exceedingly censorious, and exceedingly pharisaical, and exceedingly opposed to methodism; and this was a redeeming virtue. There are many published descriptions of the virtuous poor afloat, which, had her "fragrance not been wasted in the desert air," would have had for their frontispiece "Dame Jobson;" and in many a pastoral visitation would she have been selected as a model of village excellence: I have been often called upon to admire dame Job

sons.

And the dame was a perfect pattern of peace of mind. She was not sensible of any evil done by her most comfortable reflection. She could look back upon a long life of sincerity and puritypleasant retrospect! She felt that she had done her duty-delightful thought! No church service had she ever omitted, save when attacked by rheumatism. Never, but from absolute necessity, had she turned her back on the communion. She could tell every text which had been preached upon for years, for they were all carefully noted down. Such was, at one time, dame Jobson-wretched dame Jobson. Can there be a sight more woefully awful than that of an aged man or woman going down to the grave externally observant of the ceremonies of religion, and yet utterly ignorant of the saving power of divine truth?

Quietly was the dame knitting at her honeysuckled cottage-door, on a bright and balmy summer's evening, when a poor woman asked her to buy a bundle of matches. She did so; and, being on the whole kind, and seeing the poor woman faint from heat, she gave her a little refreshment. "You'll perhaps," said the recipient of the dame's bounty," accept these two little books, which I had given me by the parson of H-- to sell if I could, or to leave them with my matches." The match-seller knew nothing of what was in the little books; and the dame knew as little what was in them. By whom they were published, from what society, if from any society at all they emanated, what was their title-page, are points nothing to the purpose. The subjects treated were, 1. "The justification of the sinner before God in and through the alone merits of the Saviour;" and 2. "The absolute necessity of the sinner being born again, and savingly becoming a new creature in Christ Jesus." Such was the purport of the match-seller's tracts, though that may not be their precise titles.

The tracts were read; though with some dread, because the parson who gave them was reckoned a queer man-scarcely a church minister. Astonishment, surprise, amazement, were the consequence. They were read and read again; and finally they were prayerfully read, and, consequently, not in vain. Their chief merit was directing to certain passages in scripture, urging earnest prayer, and close reasoning with the conscience of the sinner. They were tracts not filled with long directions for certain works to be done, and certain ceremonies to be performed, and certain duties to be fulfilled, and certain actions to be wrought but breathing the freeness and the fulness of that everlasting salvation, which, without money and without price, is offered in the gospel. How many so-named religious tracts are destitute of such statements!

The tracts were read, and the calm of the dame's

mind was ruffled: the lethargy in which she had been entranced was stirred: she had been asleep, in conscience; but it was a deadly sleep. There was a cry, "Awake!"

Standing on the shore of the ocean, in a hot, sultry evening, we have looked upon the dark, unwholesome stillness of the waters, and seen the dense clouds gathering; and the almost stifling noxiousness of the air has rendered the whole scene oppressively painful. But in the watches of the night the storm has arisen, and the thunder has rolled, and the lightning has flashed; and the change effected by it has been the clearing of the atmosphere. Our waking eyes behold the ocean calm again; but it is blue, the azure calm. The boats are on the sunny sea: no cloud is visible in the sunny sky: the deadly, oppressive calm has been succeeded by that of buoyancy, of cheerfulness. Such is the deadly, pestilential calm of the sinner, contrasted with that of the quiet, pardoned soul. Being justified by faith, we have peace with God, through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Dame Jobson became, to the astonishment of many, perfectly an altered woman. Her temper was improved, her captiousness ceased, her tongue uttered no slander. Did she leave the church of her fathers? no she cleaved to the church. Did she encourage dissent? no: she showed how great were the privileges of the church, and how awful their state who did not seek to improve by them. What did she become? A church-woman, to use a familiar phrase; a truly consistent member of the church. She had been so before, it will be said, and truly; she had gone to church, but inwardly she now felt the value of the services. To the Lord's table she had gone, indeed, regularly; but in a far different spirit, with far different feelings: now she approached it as a humbled sinner.

29

"Dame Jobson is quite a changed woman,' was the remark of one, of a little group assembled at the church stile, on a Sunday morning, as they saw her quietly wending her way to the house of prayer; "is she poorly?"

"Squire and his lady and the young ladies are very much displeased with her," said a second.

They say the methodists have got hold on her," added a third.

A fourth, with more serious face, added, "I did hear some talk of their sending her to the mad place; only don't you say I said it."

"Well," said a fifth, a poor old decrepid man, who used sometimes to hobble over to hear the queer parson of H——, "I don't know, but I have just been reading in my bible-and the parson says the same thing-"If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed away, Behold all things are become new.' Mayhap this may be the case"-yes, verily, and so it was the case-"with dame Jobson." Happy dame Jobson!

Reader, never destroy a good tract: it is not waste paper. You may despise it: it may do good to others. Nay, the very sheet which you are about to burn or tear may, for aught you know, in the dispensations of grace and mercy, be the instrument of saving a soul from death. If you do not wish to keep it, throw it on the highway. Perhaps some poor, perishing sinner, hastening along the broad road to the regions of

death eternal, may halt to pick it up-halt, so that not one footstep shall he advance in his downward course. It may be to him the guide-post to point unto mount Zion, and unto the "city of the living God."

Poetry.

LAYS OF PALESTINE.

BY T. G. NICHOLAS, B.A.
No. XVII.

(For the Church of England Magazine.)

"In the 18th year of Adrian, the whole force of the war was concentrated about Bitthera, a very strong fort, not far from Jerusalem. The blockade without having been protracted for a length of time, the rebels within reduced to the last extremity by thirst and famine, and, the author of the sedition having suffered the penalty of his crime, the whole nation of the Jews was excluded, by a decree of the emperor, from the territory about Jerusalem, so that they might not, even from a distance, behold their native soil. Such is the account given by Aristo of Pella."-EUSEBIUS, ECCL. HIST. iv. 6.

WHEN far we wander from the scenes of home,
Where pass'd the days of our blithe infancy,
How doth the hope support us, as we roam,
Once more the dear abode of youth to sec,
Tho' a long space must intervene ere we
Again revisit haunts we loved so well!

But, when the exile from his home doth flee,

Nor thinks again beneath its sky to dwell,

The blade of vengeance once again is bar Their land is left unto them desolate : A sordid remnant whom the victor spar'd Hath ris'n, with hope of wrongs retriev'd elate, By an impostor led. The stroke of fate Hath quench'd the lustre of his boasted ray*; This last rebellious act doth consummate Their crime; and they must wander far away, Nor longer 'mid the wreck of vanished glories stray; Nor even from some distant spot behold The ground where once the holy city rose, Where gleam'd the sun athwart its fane of gold, The hallow'd place which erst Jehovah chose. Thou wilt not, Lord, thine ear of mercy close To those who mourn repentant; nor forget Thy people, harass'd by contending foes; And thou wilt bid their ray, which long hath set, Kindle with ruddier glow and deeper brightness yet.

Jan. 3.

"The leader of the Jews at this time was one Barchochebas, which name signified "a star," a man both rapacious and blood-thirsty, but who contrived to impose upon his followers, a set of slaves, by his name: as though, forsooth, he had come down like a star from heaven, to cheer them in their oppressed condition."-EUSEB. ECCL. HIST. iv. 6.

Miscellaneous.

DR. BUTLER had a singular notion respecting large communities and public bodies. His custom was, when at Bristol, to walk for hours in his garden, in the darkest night which the time of the year could afford,

farewell!

The royal wand'rer, from his own lov'd home
Detained afar full many a weary day,

Would watch, at eve, the bright and billowy foam
Of waters basking in the azure bay,

And long for some good bark, to float away O'er the dim seas, and, in his stately pile, Salute his loved ones: e'en a longer stay Where then he was he deem'd he might beguile, Could he but see the smoke rise from his native isle*. So felt the Jew of old, by Babel's streams. He thought and wept on Zion; nor to him Seemed fair those towers, on which the

beams

sunset

Flung richest radiance; for he thought how dim The fane where erst between the cherubim The eternal presence brooded, when a cloud Roll'd thro' the temple, and the swelling hymn Pour'd forth its notes of gladness long and loud, While o'er the pavement mute adoring myriads bow'd.

Better to die upon the battle-plain

Unwept, unsepulchred+, than live a slave, Nor hope to see his native vales again‡, Nor slumber in his own ancestral grave: The cedars yet on Libanus might wave, The dews yet glisten on the mountain-steep, The wearied hind his burning brow might lave At mountain rill, and shepherd fold his sheep; He could but view these scenes through mem'ry's

glass, and weep.

*

* Odyssey i. 57, 58.

*

+ “ἄκλαυστος άταφος.”—EURIP. HECUBA 30.

"Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him; but weep sore for him that goeth away; for he shall return no more, nor see his native country."-JER. xxii. 10.

After walking some time, he would stop suddenly, and ask the question, "What security is there against the insanity of individuals? The physicians know of none; and as to divines, we have no data, either from scripture or from reason, to go upon, relative to this affair." "True, my lord, no man has a lease of his understanding, any more than of his life: they are both in the hands of the sovereign Disposer of all things." He would then take another turn, and again stop short: Why might not whole communities and public bodies be seized with fits of insanity, as well as individuals?" "My lord, I have never considered the case, and can give no opinion concerning it." Nothing but the principle that they are liable to insanity, equally at least with private persons, can account for the major part of those transactions of which we read in history!" I thought little (adds the dean) of that odd conceit of the bishop at that juncture; but I own I could not avoid thinking of it a great deal since, and applying it to many cases.Bartlett's Life of Bishop Butler.

THE JEWS.-Much has been said of this excommunicated race, who are scattered over the face of the globe. At Rome-where they are in reality great objects of aversion-at the end of the city, they are obliged to reside in one part, distinct and separate from all other inhabitants, where the gates are regularly shut every evening, and opened at a particular hour in the morning. Over one of these is an effigy of our Saviour, stretched on the cross, and underneath the words, "His blood be upon us and our children!" This has long given great offence to the Hebrews, who have offered large sums to have it removed, but which has been resolutely refused by the Roman government.-Dr. Rae Wilson's Sketches of Catholicism.

London: Published for the Proprietors, by EDWARDS and HUGHES, 12, Ave Maria Lane, St. Paul's; J. BURNS, 17, Portman Street; and to be had, by order, of all Booksellers in Town and Country.

PRINTED BY

JOSEPH ROGERSON, 24, NORFOLK STREET, STRAND, LONDON.