its beautiful simplicity? the absence of all that was hollow, unreal, and artificial? Was it not the realising of that Christian communion, of heart with heart, and all with God? Was it not the visible beaming in every eye and face of that love which is the loveliest feature of Christianity, and which almost made the scene resemble one of those primitive and apostolic scenes, when the church would be altogether with one accord in one place, singing, and praising, and glorifying God—and indeed, generally speaking, I must say, that in the course of my own experience, I have met with more that is pleasing, and even solemn and imposing, in the simple, unaffected, and spiritual worship of an earnest, sincere congregation, in a plain and almost ugly English Church, than in the proud pageantry and pompous ceremonial of the Cathedral of Cologne, or the Duomo of Milan. Yea, and I have heard sweeter and more heart-thrilling, though less skilful music, produced by what is called con gregational singing than that which rolls its thunders from the pealing organs of Haarlem or of Friburg; and I preferred it because it was more devotional, more hearty, more real. Tryphosa. Well, my dear sir, I owe you many thanks for the kindness and the patience you have 'shewn me. I will read the Homily, and shall reflect deeply and carefully on what you have said, and I have little doubt but that I shall not only decide on giving up, but shall even join you in strenuously opposing the introduction of pictures into churches; and you, Philemon, may inform the King of Bavaria that I humbly crave his royal pardon for having doubted the wisdom of his proceedings. In future he may rob the churches to fill his Pinakothek, without incurring my displeasure. Gaius. One word more, Tryphosa. When you reflect on this subject, as you say you shall, let me beg you to make this one rule—always to begin by saying, "Lord, teach me Thy will." You will gain more ground in five minutes prayer, than in five hours of reflection. or study. The sun was set, but the western heavens still cherished the bright-hued pledges of his glory; the evening star sparkled bright and cold and frostily in a flood of yellow light; the horizon of the sea was clearly and vividly defined; the outline of the Downs rose dark and distinct against the lucid sky; the air was fresh and pure, and every thing looked clear and definite, save where the blue mist hung over the towns and villages on the coast; a bright and fine, but cold and frosty evening was setting in, as our little party re-entered Brighton, where it becomes lost to the eye of the reader. FINIS. |