of such as I had at my dépôt, and that I would write to the Society for more, if necessary.”

THE TWO WICKLIFFES.

(From an Agent's Report.)

"When attending a week's Meetings in the neighbourhood of Barnard Castle, along the beautiful banks of the Tees, which there divides Durham and Yorkshire, I visited the village of Wickliffe in the latter county, where the great man was born who first gave Englishmen the Bible in their mother tongue, and from which he took his name. I was desirous of establishing an Association in so memorable a spot, and called on the new Rector, Rev. C. Glyn—a name which, from associations connected with it in Dorsetshire, I thought afforded some promise of its owner being friendly to our cause. I was not disappointed in this, though I fear we cannot hope to do very much in Wickliffe, at least at present; for it is rather remarkable that the birthplace of the great Reformer should now be inhabited principally by Roman Catholics, accounted for, however, by the fact, that the proprietor of the place and the property adjoining is a member of that body. The little village may be said to have done its share in the great work of Bible circulation, when it furnished the illustrious man who first, in our own country, acted on the principle of the Bible Society, in giving the Bible to the people, without note or comment, and in their own vulgar tongue."

CHANCELLOR RAIKES.

Last year an Association was formed in the lead works of Messrs. Walker, Parker, and Co., Chester. The Anniversary was recently held, when the zealous and active Secretary stated that the number of Free Subscribers in the works was 157, and the Free Contributions for the year amounted to £31 7s. 7d., given almost entirely in subscriptions of a penny a week. The Meeting was held in one of the warehouses of the works, which was prettily decorated with flags,

and the men attended in large numbers, with many of their wives and families. While speaking of a Bible Meeting in the city of Chester, we must not pass over in silence the name of one who so often assisted in our Anniversaries there, and was so warmly interested in the Society's work, but who was called away to his eternal rest during my sojourn in Chester. We allude to the late lamented Chancellor Raikes. The last time we met him, just twelve months before his death, was at the formation of a Bible Association, among the men connected with the extensive Railway Station at Chester, when he presided in the goods shed of the station, in his usual happy way, and addressed the somewhat novel Meeting with much feeling. We believe the Society never had a warmer or a more consistent friend; and when unable, during his last illness, to attend the Meeting of the Auxiliary in Chester, he sent from his dying bed a letter to the Committee expressive of his unabated attachment to the great work of the Bible Society. In his successor, Chancellor Thurlow, we are happy to say we have also an old and warm friend.

A HINT FOR EXETER HALL.

We cannot speak in terms of too great commendation of the efforts of our friends at Bradford. Notwithstanding the fearful depression of trade, the meeting was one of an extraordinary character, about 2500 tickets of admission having been sold on the occasion, whilst 1500 were given away to the working classes. The proceeds of the Meeting, from tickets and collection, were upwards of £80.

THE COLPORTAGE OPERATIONS

Are still continued with good success, though the dearness of provisions and the depression of trade have in some slight measure affected the weekly sales. The common cry is, "We would be glad to buy a Bible, but we have not what will buy bread for our children."

FLOWERS.

Oн bring me, bring me, sweetest flowers,
From my own dear land again;

I feel as if their well-known scents
Would charm away my pain.

Their forms would bring me back the dreams
Of childhood's happy days,
Like visions of the night lit up

By fancy's sparkling rays.

Oh let me feel the perfume
Of the violet in the air,

And clasp within my feeble hand,
The primrose pale and fair;

The mayflower's gorgeous leaves of gold
That deck'd our youthful queen,

And sorrel's snowy petals hid

Among its leaves of green.

Bring me the dark blue hyacinth,
That studded all the grass,

Where we beneath the elm tree's shade
The joyous hours would pass.
The roses that around our bower

Their thousand blossoms shed,

And mingled with the stately boughs

That arch'd it overhead.

Oh let me wreathe once more the flowers

I ever loved the best,

The gay and fragrant hawthorn,

In its springtide beauty drest;
The brilliant pansies, flowers of thought,
Like thoughts that quickly die,

The fragile harebell, ringing forth
A gladsome melody.

My eyes are dim with hushed tears,
The tears of vain regret ;

Oh flowers of home, in many a dream
Your bright forms haunt me yet.
Oh never, never more, amid

Your beauties may I stand,

Or lay ye on my heart again,
Gems of my fatherland!

Quebec, June, 1854.

ANNIE.

A SERMON FROM A BIRD-CAGE.

THAT dim old silent library, with its rows upon rows of ancient tomes, its heavy curtains, darkening the room, even at noon-day, its shadowy recesses, and the thick, soft carpet, on which a footfall can scarcely be heard, is haunted ground to me; and the secret charm of its solitude is this-it was my father's room-yes, and my mother's, too, in some sort. Her gentle, sunny spirit had little sympathy with the gloomy stillness, which suited well my father's student mind, and so he built for her a small conservatory adjoining, whence floats a faint perfume into the region of books; and there she was wont to be, among her favourite plants, working, or teaching her only child, her Evie; or stealing from her bright flowerland into her husband's realm of study, she would listen to some striking passages from the classic authors, in whose writings he delighted.

One in heart they were, those beloved parents, although so different in taste and disposition; he so strong in mind, with such high intellect, yet so weak in purpose, with so little energy in action; she so timid, yielding, childlike, looking up with such unbounded reverence to her husband, yet with a woman's strength of love to bear the ills of life, and to shield from care the two dear objects of her home-affection. The burning rays of a July sun glittered on the glass roof, and drew out the dampness from the earth, and from the lately watered shrubs, filling the conservatory with a warm and fragrant moisture. It was hot everywhere, even in the shade of our luxuriant orange-tree the heat was so oppressive that my mother withdrew into the library, which was always deliciously cool.

"I wish I were Annie Wilks," I exclaimed, suddenly breaking a long silence.

About half an hour before, my mother had refused my urgent request to be allowed to go out, for, as I had scarcely recovered from a severe illness, she did not think that working in my little garden, when the fervid sun had just passed the meridian, would be particularly beneficial, and I had sat ever since, with a book before me, meditating on the hardships of my condition.

"And why would you like to be Annie Wilks, who is obliged to work so hard for her poor bed-ridden mother, that she cannot go to school?"

“Because she may go out on the heath, while I am obliged to stay at home. I do so want to go out, too; it is so hot, and I am so tired."

There was a large common in the parish, whereon the laundresses in the neighbourhood spread their linen to dry and whiten, and it was Annie's duty to watch the clothes for a washerwoman in whose cottage Mrs. Wilks lodged. Thus she passed many hours of each fine day pleasantly enough, in the shade of a hawthorn, knitting socks, or occupied with some other easy and profitable work. In wet weather, however, it was hard work for the poor girl to stand by Dame Watson's steaming washing-tubs, and help her with the coarse" things;" and Annie's earnest love of learning, which was thus completely checked, made the incessant work, work, work from morning till night, a heavy task.

Altogether her lot was not so desirable as to excite my envy in the general way, but, at that moment, I would rather have been guarding the linen on the common, than conning my French grammar at my mother's feet.

"Oh, dear!" I repeated, "it is so hot, and I am so tired, and I wish I were Annie Wilks."

"Yesterday," said my father, looking down from the library steps, on which he was standing, to compare the different readings of some perplexing phrase, in different editions; "yesterday, I heard Evie say that she should like to be the Earl of Burnham's daughter, for she would then be attended by two footmen and her maid, whenever she went out. I fear my little girl has not a contented disposition.'

I stood rather in awe of my father, but he smiled so kindly as he spoke, that I answered, "Indeed, papa, I am not discontented, and I don't wish to be either Annie Wilks or Lady Adela always; but I should like to go out now; and it would be very nice to have two tall footmen, in powdered wigs, to follow my pony."

"Of course you would enjoy your ride much more," he replied, laughing. "Wait till I have found the place in this