imperishable stone and the rudely-carved figure -in the echo of the Bardic notes, which live and roll in a wild and tuneful cadence, perpetuated through a long series of generations, in many an old tradition-in many a merry custom or solemn rite-the spirit of ancient institutions "lives and breathes." And let the destroying fire rage and sweep through the nation like an avenging angel; let the library of learning be consumed, and every trace of national improvement be swept away; let the conqueror's sword mow down the best and the bravest hearts of the land; let custom impose fresh ceremonies, new religions rise and the old die away; let every element of change conspire against the nation,-in every heart that survives the wreck, those institutions will survive: they will be transmitted, as heir-looms to posterity; and thus from the very grave, as it were, of old institutions, will new ones be evoked, yet bearing all the spiritual presence of the old. A man cannot scorn and spurn the associations and institutions of his childhood; altered as they may be in their object and tendency, they will, nevertheless, be actually and truly the same; and these predilections in the human heart are the key and the clue to Ancient History. Fable and mythology are not to be spurned; they are matter of history; a clear and legible finger may be seen pointing towards them, as shrines where repose the earlier records of our race.

That nation wants much, indeed, that is wanting in the presence of a venerable hu

manity. "Oh! we have none of these things!" said a distinguished American to me, as we paced together through the streets of York"We have none of these things." I intimated the presence, in his hemisphere, of venerable trees and forests of the most ancient and stupendous forms of natural grandeur; but again and again he said, "We have none of these things." The historic antiquity was wanting, the presence of the human finger on the pinnacle and the spire, on the turret and in the castle hall; the shades of the venerable dead seem to haunt the aisles and naves of our minsters; the rustle of robes, worn five or three centuries ago, is heard down the stairs of old mansions, and the clang of armed heels in the court-yards of old Norman abodes. And these buildings the people should see and know. But, alas! alas! in this good land of ours nothing is to be seen under a shilling! If twenty people together wish to see York Minster, or Canterbury, or Lincoln, the charge is one shilling each! "National Buildings and Monuments to be seen, One Shilling each!!!" And there is not a miserable piece of stone, or wall, in any part of the country, but it is to be seen on the same respectable terms. It is degrading to the economy, making such arrangements, and degrading to the people, called upon to pay these sums. St. Paul's, Westminster Abbey, the Tower, the Cathedrals and Churches of the land-they are the people's-they were reared by the people's money! Why are they shut against the poor man, who is thus prevented

from knowing his country's monuments, and steeping his spirit in all the powerful iufluences which noble architecture and old time-worn heir looms so peculiarly possess.

The person who would see Old England must have his pocket full of silver, and his face full of bronze for, wherever he turns, he will find, sitting at the door of the minster choir, or in the neighbourhood of the ruined abbey, a brace of insolent, brandy-faced drunkards, who will preface their peripatetic descriptions with,-"One shilling, if you please, sir!" A meditation in an English cathedral, a silent sitting among the cold marbles and monuments of our minsters, is a thing impossible -you pay your shilling, you see your sight, and are expected to walk away. We happened once to stroll into Boston Church, in Lincolnshire; and while looking at a tomb, a voice rung, by no means anthem-like, in our ears,"We don't allow any-body to look round the church, out of church-time, without paying sixpence !" "Oh, indeed, yes; a fine church this!" "Yes, a very fine church; but I want sixpence !" "Ah! whose monument is this?" "I tell you what, young fellow, if you don't walk out, or pay me sixpence, I shall pretty quick put you out!" and by this time a woman, the wife of the creditable sexton, came with a broom, and began to use it rather freely. However, we walked on, and made our inquiries, perhaps, rather provokingly, as we walked about among the curiosities of this celebrated old church; and, for a Temple of Religion,

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very beautiful were the salutations poured upon us. Both of these worthies were drunk."You're not stopping at Peacock's, eh?""Well, you're a nice 'un-you are!" "I suppose you haven't got a sixpence ?"Friends," we said, "listen! we have been into more churches and minsters than you have seen months and years; and yours is the first we ever entered without giving to the sexton sixpence, or a shilling. Our accounts are balanced; you have taken out your change in tongue!" A pretty shower of abuse followed us as we made our exit.

This is certainly an exceptional instance, but after all, it is an illustration of the honour conferred by England on all her monuments and public buildings. She does not, it appears, wish her children to imbibe the love of ancient forms and things; she dreads the presence of the poor man in the neighbourhood of the sublime arch, or the elevating marble. What business has he there? Oh, miserable, paltry, pauper-like policy! The poorest amongst us has a right to read England;-it is ours, the land of our birth and ancestry, of our love and our pride-it is ours, the traditions and the tales, which float over the hamlet and the hall, -the mighty masses of stone castles, abbeys, mansions, they are ours, the beautiful churches fringed by lulling waters and by dark green woods, the monuments of the hoary men of old. So whether the rich man will let or aid us, let us look boldly, yet reverently, into the glorious memories and haunts of Old England!

Let us survey the Ages as they have passed along. Let us pick up two or three significant hints, to guide us to a knowledge of the times of old-for hints will suffice-those lovely little flowers that grow and spring along the walks of history—their fragrance is wonderful. That pretty legend, for instance, touching the introduction of Christianity into the Northern parts of England, in the days of King Edwin, when the good Paulinus desired to preach the truth to our rude forefathers, and the king assembled all his court at Market Weighton, and himself presided over the gathering-took the chair, as we should say now a-days. And so they all came, the Priests inflamed, no doubt, with indignation, at the very idea of overturning their ancient temples, and mutilating their gods, and destroying their worship. The Chiefs, for the most part careless, but still wondering at so simple and bold a faith as they understood this Christianity to be. The king, an adherent to old forms, and a believer in old faiths, but yet disposed to this bright new lovely light of life, especially from the words and the warnings of Bertha, his wife; and there they all sat, debating whether Paulinus should or should not be heard. The place in which they debated must have been a rude structure, no whit better than many a barn; and the slating, tiling, thatching, whatever it was of the building, sadly broken; for as thus they sat there a sparrow flew in through the broken thatch, and after it had . flown about for some considerable time, it escaped through the broken thatch on the other