NOTICES OF BOOKS.

An ample volume has been issued under the title of the Defence of the Archdeacon of Taunton, which shows on which side argument and scholarship must be looked for. It certainly is an admirable book, as are also two most valuable pamphlets by Mr. GRUEBER. These two last cannot be circulated too widely; and we rejoice to think that they have already met with large acceptance.

Mr. J. W. HALLAM, an architect of great talent and promise, has published the first part of Monumental Memorials, to which we wish all success. All the designs are of a Catholic character, and some strike us as particularly beautiful. The following remarks are to the point:

"No more fitting emblem can mark the Christian's grave than that of the Cross on which his SAVIOUR died, and in Whom he now rests until the last trumpet shall sound, when through that Cross he looks for a joyful resurrection. No boasting words should tell how faultless was the character of him who lies beneath, but rather should his earthly course be finished with an humble prayer for mercy and forgiveness, leaving alone the past, and looking only to God. If he were kind, affectionate, charitable, what need to record it o'er his grave? They are Christian virtues,-without them, what would he have been? Were he clever, talented, gifted above his neighbours, GoD gave him those gifts to use to His glory, and not only will he be required to account for them, but also for their improvement and increase. lity alone should ever forbid anything like self-praise, or an epitaph which extols the person commemorated, multiplying his good qualities. But it has been shown that numbers of such exist; and who, in reading them can doubt that the poet's words were true?—

'When all is done, upon the grave is seen

Not what he was, but what he should have been.'"

Humi

Mr. WEST's little Catechism on the Chief Truths of the Christian Religion is most excellent, and will be a useful manual in the training of children.

A packet of Verses with Pictures on sacred subjects, issued by Mr. Masters, will, we think, be very great favourites with children. They are upon single cards, so that a number can enjoy them at the same time.

"Where are the fruits I yearly seek,
As holy seasons pass away:
Eyes turned from ill-lips pure and meek,
A heart that strives to pray?

"Where are the glad and artless smiles,
Like clustering hollies, seen afar
At eve along the o'ershaded aisles,
With the first twilight star?"

LITTLE Annie was disappointed of her birthday party, by the untoward event that befell just prior to it; but two 'evenings before Christmas there was a general invitation to Chichley to the Auleys', for a little dance. Mildred was specially included, but declined; and Edith, for her own private reasons which no one thought of overruling, said nay, also; and the other four went under their papa's escort. They started early in the afternoon, for it was a long, eight miles' drive, and were to dress there; but it was class day at the school at Calne, where Flo and Ro attended very regularly, and Edith magnanimously gave up her drive with Mr. Dudley, and volunteered her services with Mildred.

Edith, with all her high theoretical notions of what a clergyman and a clergyman's daughter should be, reduced very few of them to absolute practice. There was a class two afternoons in the week, for older girls who had left, and it was conducted very flourishingly by Florence and Rose; but Edith had no hand in the matter, first, because Margaret Dudley had suggested it, and started one with success at Oakridge; secondly, because it was part

of her indolent economy to have no time where she had no inclination, and yet, by an unintentional coincidence, those very two afternoons she could never spare for school, were the two fixed by her as the most leisure for her drive with the Vicar: well but to-day she was affable, condescending to play second fiddle, and leave Mildred the head form.

A new organ had arrived during the week, and was just unpacked and built up, and after a very satisfactory lesson with some half-a-dozen young women, mostly her seniors, Edith proposed that she and Mildred should look in at the church on their way homeward.

The church, which hitherto we have not described, may come appropriately under notice at this moment. It bears date of some two hundred years; and, to speak architecturally, its style was the Debased English: depressed arches, and square-headed windows characterized the structure. What could be, had been done; the great frowning galleries had been cleared away, and a lowcarved pulpit on the north side of the chancel arch had superseded the huge unsightly block in front of the altar. It might not, perhaps, be compared with Oakridge, but it was neat and reverent-looking, and the churchyard almost tasteful in its regularity and good keeping. The organ was a large one of Willis's. Edith sat down and rolled her fingers over the keys, half awed by the grand, full, uncontrolled sound that she called forth; while Mildred worked away at the big bellows. Presently Edith ceased, and whispered, “Would you like to try now ?”

They changed places. Mildred arranged the stops, uncovered the pedal board, and began. A fugue of Pergolesi,-soft, sweet, and rich; then presently, that one delicious morceau from Haydn's First Mass; then part of Beethoven's March Funébre, till the blowing ceased.

Edith was dumb with astonishment and admiration, while Mildred lifted her scarlet fingers and began an apology. "I am killing you with that hard work. inconsiderate of me."

"It is so beautiful!" murmured Edith, "Please will you play some more.”

“It is quite three years since I have touched an organ."

She began again. It was as though memory woke up. its long silent store, and one by one pealed forth those glorious gems of Mozart and Handel, while Edith stood by entranced. Afterwards, at first it sounded like the flute stop, a clear, sweet under-tone of accompaniment,-the grand Miserere chant,-till Edith came forward, touched her sleeve, and whispered, "It is getting late!"

The sun had set, and shadows were deepening within the holy walls. They shut the instrument, and walked home hurriedly, and almost in silence.

"I never knew you played at all," was Edith's remark, in the course of their quiet tea.

"And I never knew you cared the least bit for music," was the reply.

"I hope my sort of liking for music is not a wrong one, but if I might, I could not sit down and play to people."

"Take care, Edith, or you small points."

will grow eccentric on some

"I never heard any one make music what I always thought it must be, until to-day. I dream of it, and it comes to me like that. Did you ever hear any of the great masters ?"

"Not lately."

"Mamma used to play very well indeed; and Flo and Ro, people say, have immense talent and execution; and Herr Kerner thumps off his own compositions in grand style; but I never want to play like them. Will you teach me the organ

"My playing days are over, I am afraid, Edith. I told your Papa before I came, he must not depend on me for the music; but if you love it, you will soon equal my performance of to-day."

"If I could ever equal that, I should be full of joy. Play me something after tea on the piano." Mildred shook her head, negatively. "Ask for no

more to-night, it would only disappoint you."

"Well, a thousand thanks for what I did hear. I would not have missed it for the grandest ball they could invite me to-it was so beautiful and delightful; but when you go on patiently drumming with Beauty, and

timing and setting right the other two, are you not angry that we never give you time to practise yourself, or think how it must wear you? You are a darling little thing; I wish I knew how to be good like you."

Edith spoke sincerely; but Mildred hushed her with a pained look, and begged her to wait until she knew her, or to aim far higher.

A kind, cordial invitation to Mildred to sit in her mamma's room, which Edith brought down in the course of the evening, she could not refuse. Mrs. Malford was still in bed. She had never been up since the last attack, but strength of nerve and limb was gradually returning, and she was very cheerful and conversational on this occasion. Her welcome to Mildred was always frank and warm, and she often tried to conjecture how agreeable and pleasing she must have been in her health and activity.

"Come here, Madame, I have a real scolding in reserve for you, "she said, playfully, "you have been exciting my little daughter to rouse a genius she does not possess; indeed, Edith has no musical talent, or it would have been cultivated long ago."

I scarcely think such strong aspirations have no foundation," answered Mildred, looking at her charge.

"Yes, look at her," returned Mrs. Malford, “and if you are no phrenologist, you must see that there are no indications. She is her papa's girl entirely."

There came a peculiar curve, scarcely to be called a curl, to Mildred's lip sometimes. It was there now; and though she made no reply, to herself she said, “Surely— as surely as they are mistaken who call her plain and uninteresting-looking, so are they wrong who forbid one's belief in the possession of that gift."

"Edith would scarcely find time for the organ among her other lessons, her household duties, and Mr. Dudley. I think Florence and Rose might take it alternately. I am glad you are a performer; it will be a great help to us."

"You must not reckon on my services; I have not played for years; I am afraid I could never undertake it

now.

Mildred's secret spirit was growing indignant: because