We would recall our brave;

The pride and glory of our glorious land!
A nation would have asked of thee to save

The mighty Conqueror from the spoiler's hand,
Of all those buried in thy onward track,

Old Year, Him only would we summon back!

THE NEW YEAR.

THE NEW YEAR! What a season of general rejoicing it is! How many voices usher it in with the words, old indeed, but full of kindly feeling-" A happy New Year to you!" How many families divided, and scattered through the length and breadth of the land, who seldom, perhaps never, meet together at any other time, gather round the firesides of rich and poor on that day, with hearts full of joy and thankfulness!

Now let us see how the Church keeps New Year's Day! If we turn to the Prayer Book, we shall find it dedicated to the worship of God in Christ: set apart and appointed by the Church, to be observed or kept holy as the Feast of the Circumcision. And well and wisely has this day been selected for its observance, for two reasons. First, because Circumcision was the rite by which children and converts were admitted into the Jewish Church, as Christians are by Baptism, made members of the Holy Catholic Church; and she thereby teaches us a lesson of obedience, by shewing how our Blessed Saviour, Who was the Only-begotten Son of God, and equal with Him, became obedient to the ordiuances and ceremonies given to man by His Father, although there could be no need of His doing so, except as an example

uus Secondly, because she brings our Baptismal vows and aalgatus more forc by before us, by identifying the commensement of the New Year with that holy Sacrament; and Jemmes is that is every succeeding year is the beginning of a fresh, te”IL of our natural life, so Baptism is the beginning

ཚར་དགའ

are zanght that two things on our part are necessary the efficacy of that Sacrament; Repentance and Faith; ami a little sections consideration will shew us how this also sumes the stigers. We can none of us look back upon the past 10 Ù... I Beh less a whole year, without finding cause Sie much shame and sorrow. Sins of omission and com■ sum, sins đề heart, ip, and life; uncharitable thoughts, angry wichs, and unkind actions; forgetfulness of God, and neglect of the means of Grace He has given us; all these, and many more rise up in judgment against us. Well is it therefore that we should be brought into the immediate presence of God, to acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we, from time to time, most grievously have committed, by thought, word, and deed, against His Divine Majesty," during the past year; and to ask His direction and assistance through that which is before us, trusting in the promise of His mercy and forgiveness, to those who truly and carnestly repent them of their former sins, and stedfastly purpose to lead a new life.

We must remember too, that Repentance, signifies something more than the mere being sorry for sin; it means the actual forsaking it, without which there can be no real repentance: and we can only hope to do this by the Grace of God, which we must seek to obtain by fervent prayer. Above all,

we must not forget to praise His holy Name for all His mercies to us.

We have all daily and hourly blessings to be grateful for, and many of us have received special gifts and blessings, for which we can never be sufficiently grateful. Let us therefore pray that He will enable us to shew forth our thankfulness, not only with our lips, but in our lives; that every succeeding year which He may grant to us may find us further advanced in "the narrow way which leadeth unto life," and nearer to that Heavenly Kingdom into which we hope finally to be admitted, through the merits of our Blessed Redeemer !

H. D. L.

SHORT TALES FOR LITTLE FOLK.

CHAPTER 1.

YORK AND LANCASTER.

PERHAPS you do not know what a civil war is, therefore, it may be better, before I tell you my story, to explain to you that by a civil war is meant one in which men who live in the same country and speak the same language fight against each other. War is a sad fearful thing at all times, but it must be doubly dreadful when people of the same land, perhaps once friends, or cousins, or even brothers, stand as foes, to wound or kill each other.

There was once a civil war in England, which lasted many years, it is called the "War of the Roses," because one party chose a White rose for its badge, and the other a Red rose. Many battles were fought, sometimes one party got the better,

sometimes the other; great numbers of people were killed, and there was weeping and woe throughout the length and breadth of the land. Among the foremost and boldest of the Red Rose party was John, Lord Clifford; his father and uncle had been slain in one battle, and buried in one grave, but this only made him more angry with the White Rose party, and more bent on fighting against them. This John was always called Black Clifford, because he was a very dark looking man, and also a fierce and cruel one. He had a good and gentle wife, and two little boys, called Henry, and Richard, who at the time I am speaking of were living in Skipton Castle. Henry was about seven years old, and could read quite well, though he had not a number of pretty story. books as you have, but he wished to learn, and tried to do well every thing that was taught him. One day Lady Clifford was seated at her needle-work with her boys by her side, Henry was looking at a book which had pictures in it painted in bright colours, and merry little Richard was riding round the room with the scabbard of a sword for a horse, when a maid came into the chamber, saying, "Tidings from the host, lady! a horseman has just passed the drawbridge, and he seems to have ridden fast and far.” "Send him hither, Mabel," said Lady Clifford, as she rose from her seat in haste, her heart beating quickly, and her cheek growing pale. "Are you afraid, dear mother," said Henry, taking her hand and gazing at her with loving eyes. "Yes, my child," she said, “I am afraid, for I know when armies meet in wrath, blood must be shed; and even should your father be spared, other children may have to lament the loss of a sire, and perhaps wander houseless-outcasts through the

country." As she spoke, the horseman, Walter of Arncliffe, came in, the mire still clinging to his clothes, and seeming both weary and sad; "Walter," said Lady Clifford, "I know you would never leave your lord were he in danger, is he then safe?"

"Alas! lady," was Walter's answer, "there has been a fearful fight; thousands of knights and nobles strew the ground with their dead bodies, and the number of soldiers who have fallen is untold. My lord, ever foremost in battle, drove back the foe, when they came forward to attack his outposts; but a little time after, as he was fording the river Aire, he was struck on the throat by an arrow, and he now lies in the cold grave along with the gallant Percy, for they fell on the same field as their fathers did before them; and I fear, lady, that your stay here must be short, for the foe is coming this way, and though the castle is strong, we have no men to defend it."

Lady Clifford had sunk back in her chair, and covered her face with her hands, when Walter was speaking, but she now looked up and said, "But whither could I go, good Walter ? Where is the place that can shelter my poor boys, or hide them from the coming foe?" "I scarcely know, lady, but my lord has been so little in the east country, that perhaps there his sons might be in safety; but the boys would be best apart, so that should one be found, the other might still be left to you." "My boys! my poor boys!" cried Lady Clifford, bursting into tears. Richard, seeing this, ran up to Walter, and, stamping his little foot, said, "Naughty Walter, naughty Walter, should not come and make mamma cry." "Richard must not be angry," said his mother, "it is good Walter who tries to help me."