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The Copt is well nigh a stranger to his Christian brethren in western lands; perhaps comparatively few of us in England are even conversant with his name or origin, added to which his present social condition is undoubtedly low and obscure, little better indeed than that of a slave, while in regard to practical Christianity it is to be feared that even the most charitably disposed would pronounce his religion to be barely more than a name. Yet that which in its now fallen and dormant state may without injustice bo likened to smoking flax, or compared to something more lifeless still, was once a brilliant light, and shone out as a beacon in the surrounding gloom, for the Coptic Christian is the descendant and representative of the ancient and flourishing Alexandrian church, which in the early centuries bore such brave testimony to the truth and power of the gospel in the midst of a heathen world.

Well for itself and for the world would it be, if this once noble society should take to itself the words of admonition from the great Master to them of Ephesus, and remember from whence it has fallen, and repent, and do its first works. Then who should tell but that in its regeneration the Copt might bo a potent instrument in the long-expected conversion of Eastern nations to the religion of Christ. Such verily were a destiny worthy of its ancient name.

Before looking at the present state of the Coptic community, it may be well perhaps just to glance back and read over a few names that grace its ancestry. It will be remembered that the Alexandrian church is said to have been founded by St. Mark, who laboured with great success among the mixed population of that city, preaching amidst much persecution, and finally suffering martyrdom at the hands of an idolatrous crowd, while engaged in the celebration of Divine worship. In the Coptic convent at Alexandria -a dreary, straggling building, parts of which are probably of great antiquity-they show you a tomb† where the custodian assures you the evangelist was buried, his remains having been brought there by the faithful, and deposited beneath the spot where he was wont to preach. It is in a recess behind a carved wooden screen in the chapel, and above they have erected what in a Latin church would be called an altar, but as the Copts proscribe the use of stone altars, is here simply a monumental marble.

Not much appears to be known concerning the church in Egypt during the first century, whether as regards its inner life, or the story of its more public career. No doubt there was fighting enough, both with outward and inward foes-pagan superstition and cruelty on the one hand, and an ever-treacherous heart on the other; yet though most of the names of the more prominent of the church in those times have

passed away unremembered, the several persecutions, quick in succession, which the Christians went through, only had the effect evidently of rooting more deeply in the hearts of the people the truth and power of the gospel of Christ, for in the succeeding age we find the church asserting itself strongly. In the matter of ancestry-which is all that space allows to treat of here there are three great names to mention :Pantænus, head of the Alexandrian catechetical school, who is said to have gone as a missionary of the gospel, consecutively to Ethiopia and India; Justin MartyrSamaritan by birth-the philosopher whose philosophy appears to have been laid unshrinkingly at the feet of Christ, the apologist and martyr professing his faith before the world, and staking his life on the issue; the illustrious Clement - known as Clement of Alexandria of great reputation in the early church, fragments only of whose writings come down to the present time, through extracts preserved by quotation in later writers.

In the third century, there was the gentle and moderate Dionysius, bishop, and reverent student of the New Testament, whose comments exhibit his humility and carnest search after truth.

After him came the learned Origen, head of the catechetical school, the hard worker, labouring like an apostle, self-sacrificing to an extraordinary degree; some of whose mystic tenets may be found among us even now in England.

In the fourth century more turbulent times appear, and the principal names connected with the church seem to be Arius, the heretic, whose doctrine caused much trouble at the time, and more afterwards, and whose controversies with his Bishop Alexander brought on the scene the Emperor Constantine, and induced him, in A.D. 325, to institute the famous Council of Nice.

Then comes Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, who afterwards took up the opposition, and who, for that reason perhaps, and on account of his uncompromising orthodoxy, has got the credit of being the author of the creed that bears his name.

Anthony, the hermit of the Thebaid, should perhaps have a place here, as being one whose teachings in his retreat among the tombs and caves of the desert exercised powerful influence over the church in that age, and those succeeding, in the matter of monachism.

In the next, the fifth century, Theophilus, Bishop of Alexandria, becomes the violent opposer of Origenism, and in controversy with Chrysostom at the Council of Calcedon, procures the banishment of the latter.

Then appears the turbulent and contentious patriarch Cyril, assembling a council at Alexandria for concerting measures against Nestorius and his followers, and launching his anathemas at the head of the Bishop of Constantinople.

Theodosius, patriarch in the sixth century, is the last I will mention; a bishop whose name comes at a time of great turmoil, schism, and contention in the church, at an ago when the Egyptian church was finally separated from connection with, or allegiance to, Romo and Constantinople. A perpetual succession of patriarchs, says a writer, arose from the ashes of Theodosius. The Egyptian Christians branded the Greck and Roman churches with an ill name, as consisting of men whose faith was upheld by the power of the stato and the arbitrary will of its ruler; and with enthusiastic national spirit they abjured not only a

foreign heresy, but also the manners and language of the Greeks, so that in place of this tongue which had heretofore been dominant, save among the more obscure classes and the peasants of the Nile valley, the Coptic language was now taken religiously into use, to the exclusion of its more elegant rival. Thus we have brought down to us in these times a fragment of the ancient Egyptian dialect in use among these Christians even till now in the liturgies and Scriptures of the Coptic church; in a mutilated form, it is true, as the early Christians studiously avoided the use of terms and phrases that might be applicable, or were similar to those employed in idolatrous worship.

Not much is heard of the church from this time till the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when the Jesuits made strenuous efforts to convert the Copts to the Roman faith. Nevertheless, these Copts, notwithstanding their poverty and ignorance, which exposed them to the seductions of sophistry and gain, stood firm in their principles, and made an obstinate resistance to the means employed by the missionaries to bring them under the papal yoke. However, this is not the place to speak of the history of the church; but in closing so lengthy a preface, it may be as well to observe that in looking over the record of this early community, torn with strife, persecuting and being persecuted, in perpetual war with heresies and schisms, one might be tempted to fear that there was very little vital godliness to be found in the midst of so much clamour; but it must be borne in mind, taking into account the state of society in those times, that the Christian world prominently standing out in relief, and which was accordingly transferred into history, constituted but a mere fraction of the true church. History has to deal with the outward and visible: it is as one looking on the changeful surface of a river, who perceives not, neither pourtrays, the play of deep water underneath; so doubtless here, much true and vital godliness existed, hidden away from public view under_this tumultuous outside. H.

CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL.

THERE is no English shrine-none certainly if we except Westminster Abbey-so interwoven with our national memories as Canterbury cathedral. To all thinking and religious men it is a place peculiarly fit to summon up feelings of the highest gratitude. We are reminded of old times, when in the goodness and providence of God, the light of the true religion dispersed the heathen darkness that brooded over our island. There had existed from a very ancient date an early British church; but in the southern part of the island, at least, the lamp of religion was burning at the lowest when Augustine and his friends landed in Kent. On the site where the grey cathedral now stands was a primitive church attributed to the ancient British king Lucius, which was then assigned to Augustine by Ethelbert, king of Kent. In the invasions by the Danes the church was injured, and in the troubled times of the Conquest it was completely burnt down. There then arose a new cathedral, "the most famous," wrote the old writer Gervase," that had ever been heard of on the earth since that of the temple of Solomon." Much of this renowned building was due to the famous architect called "English William," of whom we are told that he was small in body, but "in workmanship of many kinds acute and

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honest." Some centuries elapsed before it assumed its present form, and it bears the impress of the different ages of its construction. In the appearance of the majestic building, in its history, in the illustrious roll of its prelates, we recal distinctly each period of English history. On the one hand we are carried back to the dim ages of the Saxon and Norman times, and on the other hand we are reminded of the wonderful history of our own days by the arms of the six Australian sees, and the memorials of those who fell in the last Indian war.

It is a week-day afternoon. We have been attending Divine service in the cathedral. How well the cadence of the noble liturgy and the rolling of the solemn music harmonize with the grand venerable pile. We wish that there had been more people at the service. We believe, however, that on Sunday afternoons there is an overflowing cathedral congregation. And now let us move about, and muse a little. We are Canterbury Pilgrims, and we think of grand old Chaucer's work, so called, the brilliant dawn of our famous English literature. Once upon a time a massive wall completely encircled the building; for there was a large monastery in connection with it, and the cathedral was, as it were, a fortress within a fortress. Wo have entered through the south porch, and remember how in the old Saxon times many quarrels and disputes used to be settled in the church porch. And now we stand upon the threshold of the nave, and beyond the nave we see the many steps leading to the choir. No wonder writers have spoken of "the height and grandeur of the piers branching up from the pavement like some natural forest of stone." Erasmus tells us that when he visited the nave in his day, he saw sundry books fastened to the pillars. In the Chapter library there are some ancient manuscripts and Bibles preserved of great interest and value. Our readers will remember that there was a time when the Bible was constantly chained up in the churches, and we trust will be grateful that in our happier day the word of God has free course. We are sure that every one must be deeply struck with the majesty of the cathedral nave. A writer of the last century says:-" Entering in company with some of our colonists just arrived from America, . . . how have I seen the countenances even of their negroes sparkle with raptures of admiration." Formerly the nave was filled with stained windows; the great west window is now made up from fragments of all the other windows. We there see the arms of the Confessor, of Richard the Second, of Anne of Bohemia, and of Isabella of France.

And now we enter the choir-the longest choir in England-narrow, and narrowing with a remarkable bend at the eastern end, with low vaulting and antique architecture. "All this produces a solemnity not unfitting the first great ruling-place of the faith in Saxon England, and carries the mind more completely back into the past than many a cathedral more richly and elaborately decorated." and elaborately decorated." The present reredos is of modern work, imitated from the screenwork of the Lady Chapel in the crypt. Before the time of the Reformation, the high altar was most sumptuously adorned, and the grated vault beneath was a perfect treasury of gold, silver, and gems. The present coverings were the gift of Queen Mary, the wife of William the Third, when she visited the cathedral. A portion of the pavement of the choir is of especial interest, for it can be identified with the ancient choir called "the glorious choir of Conrad," from a former

the knights gathered round him as he stood against the pillar, in rochet, cloak, and hood, and finally murdered him there. It was a bad deed, intensified in its guilt by the place and circumstances. Next day the body of the archbishop was hastily buried at the east end of the crypt. Some of the scenery of this sad event is still extant, and pointed out to visitors,-the actual door by which Becket and the four knights entered, and the pavement on which he fell.

The sequel is a strange chapter in ecclesiastical history-the story of the horror and remorse. Two years after the murder, King Henry himself came here to do penance for his share in instigating the foul deed. From the time of his arrival at Southampton ho lived on bread and water; when he reached Canterbury he walked barefoot through the city, from St. Dunstan's to the cathedral. There he was led into the crypt, and having removed his cloak, he received five strokes from each bishop and abbot present, and three from each of the eighty monks in attendance. In the crypt he passed the whole of the night in fasting and resting against a pillar.

About fifty years afterwards the body of Becket, who had been canonized by the Pope, was removed from the crypt to the shrine which had been prepared. Two years' notice of the event had been given throughout Europe, and there was such an assemblage on the occasion as had never been known in England. The shrino rested on marble arches, and when its wooden canopy was removed, it appeared blazing with jewels and gold. The spot where the shrine used to stand is exactly ascertained by the mosaic of the pavement, and some of the zodiac signs may still be traced on it. Close by was a watching chamber, in which a monk nightly kept watch over the rich shrine. The concourse of pilgrims from all parts of Europe was immense, and well nigh incredible. On the steep flights of steps leading to the shrine are still visible the indentations on the stones made by the pilgrim bands who visited them in successive ages. Louis the Seventh sent to the shrine the priceless jewel called the "Regale of France," a diamond "as large as an egg," having a light like flame. Richard Coeur de Lion visited the shrine after his escape from his Austrian dungeon. Edward the First offered here the golden crown of conquered Scotland. Here came Henry the Fifth on his return from Agincourt. Indeed, every English king in succession appears reverentially to have visited the shrine of St. Thomas, as Becket was now called. Churches were dedicated to him throughout every part of Christendom, from Palestine to Scotland. Emanuel, the Emperor of the East, and Sigismund, the Emperor of the West, both came here. In 1520 Henry the Eighth and the great Emperor Charles the Fifth knelt here together. "They rode together from Dover," says Canon Stanley, in his "Memorials of Canterbury," " on the morning of Whitsunday, and entered the city through St. George's Gate. Under the same canopy were seen both the youthful sovereigns; Cardinal Wolsey was directly in front; on the right and left were the proud nobles of Spain and England; the streets were lined with clergy, all in full ecclesiastical costume. They lighted off their horses at the west door of the cathedral; Archbishop Warham was there to receive them; together they said their devotions-doubtless before the shrine."

Henry the Eighth's veneration for Thomas à Becket was by no means of a lasting kind. The time of the Reformation came and then this monstrous mass of

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superstitious observance crumbled away. If the veneration attached to Becket had been thorough and complete, no less thorough and complete was the reverse that now took place. An order appeared that he should no longer be called a saint, but "Bishop Becket;" that his images throughout the country. should be pulled down, and his name erased out of all books. His figure is, however, still to be found in some of the magnificent windows of stained glass, perhaps the finest in Europe; . . . . and for excellence of drawing, harmony of colouring, and purity of design, justly considered unequalled." The offerings on the shrine were declared forfeited to the Crown, the jewels and gold were carried off in two coffers on the shoulders of eight men, and twenty-six casks were filled with the remaining offerings.

Thus far have we entered into detail, inasmuch as any account of Canterbury cathedral would be incomplete without a due notice of the principal features of its history. Such a narrative is indeed sad, but it has its interest and its lessons. Happily there are purer and brighter memories in connection with this cathedral; none more so, none more indelibly imprinted on our religious annals, than the memory of Cranmer. On the long roll of the archbishops there is no name more splendidly conspicuous than his, the chief of the heroic band who in the evil Marian days glorified God in the fires. Well it is that Canterbury, associated with scenes the darkest of the dark ages, should also be associated with the dawn, large and splendid, of our English Reformation. The memory of Cranmer has at times been assailed with evil hostility; but even such a writer as Mr. Froude, in his "History of England," amply vindicates the fair fame of this great and good man, and points out how largely his character is impressed on the prayers of the church of England, which he translated, arranged, or drew up, reflecting his earnest and sincere piety. He was a man of delicate organization, and though of clear, yet cautious and hesitating intellect a temperament that, as a rule, is very rarely found among martyrs; and if this caused him for a moment to fail and falter, who would now willingly upbraid the shortcomings of that pure and heroic spirit, and would not rather remember the anguish of his repentance, and the emphatic testimony which he gloriously sealed with his blood?

What mingled thoughts are those which occur to the mind as we muse over the long list of the leading prelates of the land, imperishably associated with Canterbury, from the time that England was England! Augustine and Mellitus, more than a thousand years ago; St. Dunstan, and the age of wild superstitions of unearthly art; Anselm and Lanfranc of the Norman days; Becket, Pole, Cranmer, Parker, Laud, of universal fame, whether for evil or for good; and then Sancroft, sent with his brethren to the Tower; and then the learned Tillotson, and the gentle, charitable Tenison; and presently Secker, like so many great prelates, the son of humble tradesmen; and so on till the list is closed by the benignant and holy Archbishop Sumner, so recently called away from his high earthly position to his heavenly reward. How the grand epic of English history is gradually unfolded as we ponder upon the roll! From the darkness, and cruelty, and idolatry of our ancient forests, we emerge into times rendered luminous by the light of the glorious gospel of Christ. Two thoughts, upon such a retrospect, especially occur to us. The first concerns that debt of national gratitude which we owe for that kindly provi