up the handsome cornice, of the nail-head quatrefoil description, which ran under the eaves of the nave. This building measures 114 feet in length. Part of the side walls of the old chancel, or rather, perhaps, Lady chapel, are still standing; the windows of which are tall, narrow single lights, graced with chaste columns supporting beautiful lancet-shaped arches.

The west end of the building retains nearly its original character. The fine square tower and spire are in perfect condition, and the great western window and door-way are also entire*; forming, however, with the modern conventicle-looking nave, a strange jumble, and showing in remarkable contrast the beauty and perfection of the old architecture. The lower floor of the tower has a handsome groined roof, terminating in an open circle of about four feet diameter. The steeple contains one large fine-toned bell and two smaller ones. The belfry stair projects from the north-east corner of the tower, and is surmounted by a spire about half the height of the main spire, and these, with the round tower now to be mentioned, form the three spires above alluded to, which, seen in their various combinations, appear in such pleasing perspective, according as the eye of the spectator shifts.

At the south-west corner of the cathedral is a

tower, by some ascribed to the Picts, though this is believed to be erroneously so by others; a very fine and complete specimen of such buildings, not uncommon in Irelandt, there is only one other in Scotland, Abernethy. The use and origin of these towers has been a fruitful source of discussion, and in the case of the tower of Brechin it is quite a puzzle to account in any rational way for its appearance. In all probability, however, it stood where it does anterior to any ecclesiastical building. It was certainly, as far as effect is concerned, a happy idea to place the cathedral here, and to group the whole together. This tower is a very fine circular column 80 feet high, with a spire or roof rising 23 feet in addition; the diameter being only 16 to 20 feet. The two smaller bells, now in the square tower, were formerly fixed in it. The door of entrance is about six and a half feet from the ground; the sides formed of black granite, nearly in the middle of each of which is a human figure, apparently a monk. Other curious devices are there also to be found. The masonry of this tower is of a peculiar corkscrew description, and is wonderfully strong. In a high wind, the whole tower sensibly swings to and fro; but such is the tenacity of the masonry that not the slightest fear is entertained for its safety. At the bottom the tower is attached to the corner of the church; and, in a high wind, it is every now and then visibly detached from it, so that a knife may one moment be inserted between them, and the next moment it is again held fast.

The see of Brechin, though small in point of jurisdiction, was largely endowed; and perhaps in no see was there a more lavish and shameful spoliation of church property for the private benefit of those who filled ecclesiastical offices and their immediate relatives.

These with the square and round tower are shown in our view (see frontispiece to the present part). The third spire, the belfry stair being at the opposite angle of the tower, does not appear.

See account of Kildare Cathedral, No. 487, of the Church of England Magazine.

From the erection of the bishopric until the Reformation it was governed by eighteen bishops, many of them occupying important offices in the state. From the Reformation until the abolition of episcopacy in connection with the state, it was occupied by ten. During a portion of the time, ecclesiastical matters were in a sort of transition state, one of the parochial ministers being an episcopalian, the other a presbyterian. It is still what is called in Scotland a collegiate incumbency, that is, a living of which the emoluments and duty are divided between two ministers of equal standing.

In a

In a lane at the upper end of the town of Brechin are some remains of the hospital of Maison Dieu, founded in 1256 by William de Brechin, for the repose of the souls of kings William and Alexander, and others. lane in the College wynd the Culdee college or monastery was situated; no traces of it, however, exist. A neat modern chapel has been erected for the use of the episcopalians, who are here a numerous and respectable body. The present incumbent is the right rev. David Moir, bishop of Brechin.

The castle was a strongly fortified place, and in 1303 made a protracted resistance to the assaults firm, until the governor, sir Thomas Maule, reof Edward I. For twenty days the garrison stood ceived his death-wound from a stone thrown from where a number of rude coffins have been disan engine placed on the opposite rising ground, covered. A descendant of sir Thomas was in 1616 created earl of Panmure. The title was forfeited in 1715, but restored in the person of the present baron, created lord Panmure and Navar

at the coronation of William IV.

The modern castle is built in a romantic spot on the site of the old, on a perpendicular rock overhanging the south Esk river (see our view), and half a mile from the town. The ravine formerly mentioned, both sides of which are covered with timber, lies between the castle and church. The grounds are spacious and well wooded, with an avenue of fine old beeches leading from the turnpike-road to the castle.

Brechin is nine miles from Montrose, which is the nearest seaport. This town, with its bridge and harbour, and the German ocean beyond, and between the two towns, forms a beautiful and the vale of the Esk, which lies in fine cultivation variegated prospect from the battlements of the The whole country tower of Brechin church. round, indeed, will well repay the tourist.

BLENTARN GHYLL*.
"But let me now explore the deep-sunk dell.
No foot-print, save the covey's or the flock's,
Is seen along the rill, where marshy springs
Still rear the grassy blade of vivid green.
Beware, ye shepherds, of these treacherous haunts;
Nor linger there too long: the wintry day
Soon closes; and full oft a heavier fall,
Heaped by the blast, fills up the shelter'd glen;
While, gurgling deep below, the buried rill
Mines for itself a snow-coved way. O, then
Your helpless charge drive from the tempting spot;
And keep them on the bleak hill's stormy side,
Where night-winds sweep the gathering drift away."
GRAHAME'S "SABBATH WALKS."

GEORGE and Sarah Green, two hardworking

This most interesting statement is chiefly a very brief abridgment of the narrative from the pen of Mr. de Quincey, which appeared in "Tait's Edinburgh Magazine" for Sept., 1839. We have added some facts derived from other sources, and a few practical observations,

peasants, dwelt, with a numerous family of small children, in Easedale, in Grasmere (see Church of England Magazine, vol. xvii. p. 94). Though poor, they were much respected in the neighbourhood, from the firmness with which they bore their hardships and the decent attire in which the children were sent to Grasmere school.

It was on a wintry day, in 1807, that this couple went to a sale at Langdale-head, which, in clear weather, it was possible to reach by a short route of eight miles; and by this they went. Their object was, if possible, to obtain a place for a daughter which Sarah had before her marriage; for their small purse would not admit of their making purchases. At such sales were large concourses of people, who had no other motive but in the probability of meeting many old friends, and partaking of the good cheer then amply provided and liberally bestowed. Intent on their object, time almost insensibly slipped on the company at the sale gradually dispersed, and the couple returned homewards, amid many serious expostulations not to risk a journey over the mountains above Langdale Head, which they said it was their intention to do. To these, however, they gave no heed. They were observed most imprudently to ascend the hills from the road. Voices were heard some hours afterwards from among the mountains; and, though some thought them cries of distress, others deemed them to proceed from some mirthful party; consequently, no notice was taken of them. At such sales it was customary to deal out liquors pretty bountifully, and several serious, nay, fatal accidents had been, as might be expected, the result; but no accusation on this point could be fairly adduced against the Greens.

On that dreary night their six young children, the eldest, Agnes, being about nine years of age, sat by the peat fire, anxiously hoping every moment to hear their well-known voices. Every sound was heard with beating breasts on the part of the elder every echo amongst the hills was listened to for hours. At twelve they went to bed, but not without having kneeled down and said their accustomed prayers. During the night and on the following morning a heavier fall of snow had taken place, and they were now cut off from all intercourse with their neighbours. The brook was swollen with the torrents, and the little bridge was in such a precarious state that they did not dare venture across it. Their parents did not return. The hope had been entertained that during the night they might have found shelter in some cot, but this gradually vanished as day passed on. Again they gathered round the fire, and began now seriously to consider that they might die from starvation.

It was in this state of terror that Agnes began to consider what might be done, and to act in a manner almost unheard for a girl of her years. The night was fast approaching. Having caused the other children to go to bed, she turned herself to household work. First, recollecting that the clock was nearly down, she wound it up. She then took away the milk which remained from what had been set aside for the children's consumption during their parents' absence and for the breakfast of the following morning, and which was still sufficient for two days' consumption: this she scalded, to keep it from turning sour. She next examined the meal chest, made the porridge,

but put all of the children, except the two youngest, on short allowance; and, to reconcile them to this, she found out a little flour, part of which she baked on the hearth into little cakes, and this persuaded them that they had been having a feast. Before night should make it too formidable, or before fresh snow might make it impossible, she went out of doors. With the assistance of two younger brothers, she carried from the stack sufficient peats for a week's consumption. She examined the few potatoes buried in brackens" (withered fern), and thought it better to leave them where they were, except as many as would make a single meal, fearing that the heat of the cottage would spoil them if removed. Having thus made all the provision she could for the support of their own lives, she turned her attention to the cow, which she milked; but, either from being badly fed, or from some other cause, the milk afforded was too trifling to be of much consideration towards the wants of the family. Her next anxiety was to get down the hay for the cow's food from a loft above the outhouse: in this she succeeded but imperfectly, from want of strength. Returning to the cottage, she fastened the door, put the young children to bed, and set up with the others till midnight. But no voice was heard, no rap came to the door. Her care, before going to rest, was to prevent the snow beating in. And so it went on. Another night passed on, and after it another day. On the third or fourth, however, so much of the snow had drifted as to permit Agnes, by a circuitous route, to pass the stream still swollen, and to find a pathway to Grassmere; and this, after much fatigue, she was enabled to do, and to tell her melancholy tale.

No sooner was it made known, however, than within about half an hour, from the remotest parts of the valley, some distant nearly two miles, all the men of Grasmere had assembled at the little cluster of cottages called "Kirktown," from their adjacency to the church of St. Oswald. There were about sixty-three households in the vale, and the number of souls about 265. Sixty of the stoutest men, at least, after arranging the signals by which they were to communicate from great distances, in the event of mists or snow storms, set off to the hills*. The women of the

* In Mr. De Quincey's paper are many very valuable suggesried into operation, at no great expense, for directing travellers in snows and mists. Many lives are annually lost by persons losing their way, either by plunging into deeps or snow wreaths, falling over precipices, or perishing from mere ex

tions, relative to some very simple plans which might be car

haustion, in a district where few houses or places of shelter are to be found. The whole paper deserves perusal. In it especial reference is made to the rev. James Grahame's note on his "Sabbath Winter's Walk." "During the winter season there are many shepherds lost in the snow. I have heard of ten being lost in one parish. When life-boats for the preservation of shipwrecked mariners, and institutions for the recovery of drowned persons, obtain so much of the public attention and patronage, it is strange that no means are ever thought of for the preservation of the lives of shepherds during snow-storms. I believe that, in nine instances out of ten, the death of the unhappy persons who perish in the snow is owing to their losing their way. A proof of this is, that very few are lost in the day-time. The remedy is, then, both easy and obvious. Let means be used for enabling the shepherd, in the darkest night, to know precisely the spot at which he is, and the bearings of the surrounding grounds. Snow-storms are almost always ac

companied with wind. Suppose a pole, fifteen feet high, well

fixed in the ground, with two crossed spars placed near the bottom, to denote the points of the compass; a bell hung at the top of this pole, with a piece of grat-wood attached to it, projecting upward, would ring with the slightest breeze. For a few hundred pounds, every square mile of the southern district of Scotland might be supplied with such bells. As they would

vale were in the greatest anxiety, until night | brought them back in a body unsuccessful; for they were perfectly aware that such expeditions were very hazardous. For three days, if not five, the search was ineffectual; partly from the extent of ground to be examined, and partly from their naturally ranging almost exclusively on the earlier days on that part of the hills over which the path to Easedale might be supposed to have been. At length dogs were taken up, which providentially show the most astonishing sagacity in snowstorms; and, about noon, a shout from a height amongst the thick cloudy vapour conveyed, as by telegraph, from man to man, intelligence that the bodies were found. George was lying at the bottom of a precipice, from which he had fallen Sarah on its summit; and it was conjectured that George had desired her to pause, wrapping her in his own great-coat, whilst he should go forward and catch the sight of some object which might inform him of their real situation. The precipice was but a few yards from that on which he had quitted his wife. The depth of the descent and the fury of the wind would prevent any distinct communication between the couple; but it was believed by the shepherds that Sarah might have caught, at intervals, the groans of her partner, supposing his death were lingering. It was agreed that the wild shrieks heard towards midnight in Langdale Head were Sarah's.

Their bodies were interred in the churchyard of Grasmere. George had a family by a former wife; and it was for some of them, who lived at a distance, and who wished to attend, that the funeral was delayed. After this solemn ceremony, attended, as might be supposed, by persons from all quarters, a division of the children was made amongst the wealthier families of the vale. There had been, even before the funeral, a struggle to obtain one of the children, amongst those enabled to provide for them; and even the poorest claimed to bear some part in the expenses of the case. But it was decided that none of them should be entrusted to persons likely to be obliged to relinquish it. The children thus soon found a refuge; for to the shorn lamb the wind was mercifully tempered, and the Father of the fatherless suffered them not to wander.

In a great measure through the instrumentality of the Wordsworth family, an ample subscription was obtained, including some of the members of the royal family, and such a sum raised as to provide for setting them in situations adapted to their sphere of life.

How much is there to be learned from this instructive record! how much valuable counsel may parents derive from it! The whole conduct of the children-their due attention to the prayers taught them, their ready obedience to their elder sister, the prudent forethought and energetic activity which that sister testified, speak loudly to the commendation of George and Sarah Green; while it affords to all parents in the same situation an useful lesson and example, to bring up their children "in the nurture and admonition of the

be purposely made to have different tones, the shepherd would soon be able to distinguish one from another. He could never be more than a mile distant from one or other of them. On

coming to the spot, he would at once know the points of the compass, and, of course, the direction in which his home lay,"

Lord." If they reaped not the harvest, yet they had sown the seed; and the subsistence so mercifully and abundantly provided for their children is only one of the myriads of testimonies to truth of the psalmist's experience.

The death of George and Sarah Green will not be soon forgotten in the wilds of Westmoreland and Cumberland; and it is the constantly repeated tale to the visitor of Grasmere churchyard: not that death on the mountains or in the vales was or is of such rare occcurrence, and that even in a season and in weather far different from that in which the Greens perished-and that not merely with strangers, but shepherds and others born and bred up in the neighbourhood—but it was the various connecting circumstances which added such a deep interest to the tale of woe. Often, and in many sequestered spots, will the guides point out to the traveller that there some wanderer slept the sleep of death: well for that wanderer if he fell asleep in Jesus; and if, while his eyes for ever closed upon the splendid scenes which surrounded him, they were enabled to behold the everlasting hills of Zion, which compass the city of the living God.

On the melancholy event referred to, the following was written by the present poet laureate :

"Who weeps for strangers? Many wept

For George and Sarah Green;
Wept for that pair's unhappy fate,
Whose graves may here be seen.
"By night, upon these stormy fells,
Did wife and husband roam;
Six little ones at home had left,
And could not find that home.
"For any dwelling-place of man
As vainly did they seek.

He perished; and a voice was heard-
The widow's lonely shriek.

"Not many steps, and she was left

A body without life:

A few short steps were the chain that bound
The husband to the wife.

"Now do those sternly-featured hills
Look gently on this grave;
And quiet now are the depths of air,
As a sea without wave.
"But deeper lies the heart of peace
In quiet more profound:
The heart of quietness is here

Within this churchyard bound. "And from all agony of mind

It keeps them safe, and far
From fear and grief, and from all need
Of sun or guiding star.

"O darkness of the grave! how deep
After that living night-
That last and dreary living one
Of sorrow and affright!

"O sacred marriage-bed of death,
That keeps them side by side
In bond of peace, in bond of love,
That may not be untied!"

himself, nor any exterior occupations took off his continual attention to and familiarity with his God. He was buried at the postern-door of his church, where his effigy lies in a wall near to the said door."

This bishopric was translated to Old Aberdeen by David the first. In 1163 this church was built, to the memory of St. Machar, by Mathew Kininmont, bishop of Aberdeen; who obtained a new charter from Malcolm the fourth, with many large donations. This bishop began to build a cathedral, which, not being sufficiently large, was pulled down by bishop Alexander Kininmont, A.D. 1357, and in its place the one now partly remaining was built.

This magnificent structure was almost destroyed at the Reformation by an infuriated multitude from New Aberdeen. In 1568 an order of the council was issued for unroofing the cathedral, as well as that of Elgin; "for provision must be made for the entertaining the men of war, whose service cannot be spared, while the rebellious and disobedient subjects, troublers of the commonwealth, in all parts be reduced. Foreseeing resistance to this sacrilege, the council denounced severe vengeance on the inhabitants of those cities who should obstruct the removal of the lead from the roofs*" (Stephen's "Church of Scotland").

"Early in August, 1640, the earl of Seaforth, accompanied by the master of Forbes, Dr. Guild, covenanting principal of King's college, and others, met in the King's college, at Old Aberdeen, from which they adjourned to the cathedral of St. Machar. They ordered all the curiously carved crucifixes, and those ornaments which had escaped the fury of the first reformers, to be destroyed. Bishop Dunbar's tomb was mutilated, and they 'chssel out the name of Jesus drawn cipherways J. H. S., out of the timber wall on the front of St. Machar's aisle, anent the consistory door; the crucifix on the Old Town cross thrown down; the crucifix on the New Town [cross] closed up, being loth to break the stone; the crucifix on the west end of St. Nicholas's kirk, in New Aberdeen, thrown down, which was never troubled before.' Guild commenced his career as principal of King's college by demolishing a church called the Snow kirk, and built the college-yard walls with the materials, inserting the hewn stones in the decayed windows of the college. The local chronicler says of this exploit: Many Old Town people murmured, the same being the parish kirk some time of Old Aberdeen, within which their friends and forefathers were buried.' In 1641, when two-thirds of the revenue of the bishopric of Aberdeen were granted to King's college, and the remaining one-third to Marischal college, Guild contrived to secure for himself the episcopal residence, garden, and grounds. In 1642 he 'caused take down the organ case, which was of fine wainscot, and had stood within the kirk since the Reformation.' He soon afterwards completely demolished the episcopal residence, and gutted it of all its materials, with which he repaired the college. The barbarous architectural alterations which Guild perpetrated are dolefully narrated by Spalding. This covenanting enemy of every thing venerable for antiquity and curious workmanship was farther accessory in 1642 to the

See account of Elgin cathedral, in Church of England Magazine.

destruction of the 'back of the altar in bishop Gavin Dunbar's aisle, curiously wrought in wainscot, matchless within all the kirks of Scotland as smelling of popery;' pitiful,' adds Spalding, 'to behold.' The wood was taken to ornament a hideous gallery which Guild ordered to be constructed within the cathedral, occupying the breadth of the church south and north. The incident mentioned by Grose, in his Antiquities of Scotland,' is duly recorded by Spalding as occurring under the direction of Guild and his preaching colleague William Strachan. It is said the craftsman would not put his hand to the downtaking thereof [the back of the high altar in bishop Dunbar's aisle] until Mr. William Strachan, our [presbyterian] minister, had put hand thereto; which he did, and then the work was begun. And in down-taking of one of the three timber crowns, which they thought to have gotten down whole and unbroken by their expectation, it fell suddenly upon the kirk's great ladder, broke it in three places, and itself all in blads, and broke some pavement with the weight thereof.' Spalding adds his denunciation of the loft,' or gallery, constructed by Guild athwart' the church 'which took away the stately sight and glorious show of the whole body of the kirk.' 'With this back of the altar, and other ornaments thereupon, he decorated the front and back of this beastly loft; whereas 407. would have purchased as much other timber to have done the same, if they had suffered the foresaid ornament to stand.' The 'fine wainscot, so that within Scotland there was not a better wrought piece,' which Guild and Strachan destroyed, is described as 'having three crowns uppermost, and three other crowns beneath, well carved, with golden knaps.'

"The magnificent, though then and now roofless, cathedral of Elgin was also profaned by 'Mr. Gilbert Rose, minister at Elgin, the young laird Innes, the laird Brodie, and some others;' and this desecration was mere wantonness, as the church was not used for divine service. 6 They broke down,' says Spalding, 'the timber partition wall dividing the kirk of Elgin from the choir, which had stood since the Reformation, near seven score years or above. On the west side was painted in excellent colours, illuminated with stars of bright gold, the crucifixion of our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ. This piece was so excellently done, that the colours and stars never faded nor evanished; but kept whole and sound as they were at the beginning, notwithstanding this college or canonry kirk wanted the roof since the Reformation, and no entire window thereunto to save the same from storm, wind, sleet, or wet, which myself saw. And, marvellous to consider, on the other side of this wall, towards the east, was drawn the Day of Judgment. All is thrown down to the ground. It was said this minister caused bring home to his house the timber thereof, and turn the same for serving his kitchen and other uses; but each night the fire went out whenever it was burnt, and could not be holden in to kindle the morning fire as use is whereat the servants and others marvelled, and thereupon the minister left off any further to bring in or turn any more of that timber on his house. This was marked and spread through Elgin, and credibly reported to myself. A great boldness, without warrant of the king to destroy churches at that rate; yet it