Ye seem to cheer the loneliness,
As there ye sweetly wave,

Above the cherished one that sleeps,
Beneath ye in the grave.

Fit emblems of that spirit gone,
To yonder realms of light;
Clothed in a garb of purity,
Bedecked in spotless white.

Bloom on fair flowers; I love to greet
Ye each returning spring:

Ye speak to me of by-gone days;
Round ye fond memories cling.

All through the dreary winter months,
Ye 'neath the sod have lain,

Till the warm sunshine drew ye forth,

To gladden us again.

Ye seem to whisper to my heart,

That this frail dust shall rise;

When the great SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS
Appears in yonder skies.

MARY ANNE F., Belper Circuit.

A TRUE STORY: WITH A MORAL.

BY THE REV. CHAS. B. GREATREX.

Or sermons in stones we all have heard,

And books in the brooks that run through the vale; Will a lesson of wisdom then seem absurd,

From a little chattering, chirping, bird,

Not five inches long, from bill to tail?

'Twas a swallow that came with the summer leaves, And fell building under the vicarage eaves.

He set to work in a cheerful way,

Mixing his mud and moistening his clay;

And did more in one day with his busy beak,
Than a couple of masons would in a week.
But, cried I, with a lord of the manor power,

"We'll have no nests here"—and I poked it down.
While he bent a droll look over the spout;

As though wondering what I could be about.
He no sooner saw, he no sooner knew,
Than he gave a chirp and away he flew;

And took two or three turns round the welkin blue.
Then off to the marl pit, and seized a lump,
And kneaded it up on a stone by the pump;
And dab! it went on the wall once more,
While I poked it down as I did before,

Though it came (which he thought extremely fine,)
Not tumbling about his ears, but mine.

Well, he gave himself no foolish airs,
But looked at once to the repairs;

Though he'd no sooner laid a few bricks or so,
Then crash! they fell to the ground below,
Till at last, both entering into the joke,
It was poke and build, and build and poke,
On as far as the sixth or seventh day;

When I cried, "I give in, you shall have your way,
You may build your house; you may take it for life:
You may fetch home your little white stomacher'd wife :
You may rear your young brood; nay, I ask no thanks.
With their bullet heads and their spindle-shanks;
And, perhaps, in return, they'll be so kind,
As to kill all the flies that they can find:
The troublesome flies. I mean all those
That come buzzing about one's ears and nose,
As he saunters about in the evening breeze,
Or sits reading and thinking under the trees."
So the swallow clapped his wings and squeal'd,
To show that the compact was signed and seal'd.

MORAL.

Don't be daunted by trifles. Persevere,
Keep a good stout heart and never fear.
You may fail once; you may fail twice,
It's not unlikely, you'll do so thrice:
Nay, four, five, six, or seven times,
Aye, as many, perhaps, as here are rhymes;
But, if only your aim and end be good,

And such as your conscience says they should,

There is little doubt you'll succeed at last,

And the house that you build will stand firm and fast.

Sent by SAMUEL HOWARD.

THE VIOLET.

SWEET flower of modest mien,

I love to gaze on thee;

Thou cravest not the praise of men,
But dwell'st in secrecy.

Others of richer hue,

To some may give delight;

Thy perfume is to me more dear.

Than colours rare and bright.

For what is outward show,
If nought with it's combin'd;
Then give me modesty and grace,
A lowly, humble mind.

E. STONE.

Youths' Department.

SURLOCK STREET PRIMITIVE METHODIST CHAPEL.

(With Engraving.)

WALTHAM ST. LAWRENCE is a parish in the hundred of Wargrave, county of Berks, six miles S. W. of Maidenhead, nine miles E. of Reading, ten miles W. of Windsor. The manor was given to the see of Winchester by Queen Emma, mother of King Edward the Confessor. In the parish church are several tombs of the Neville family, among which is a fine monument of Sir Henry Neville, ancestor to the Earl of Abergavenny, who was beheaded by King Henry VIII. in 1538. In the church are some memorials also of the families of Wightwick and Rudge. The present lord of the manor is Lord Braybrooke, who has an ancient residence at Billingbear, in the parish. In a field between the church and the Bath road was a Roman station, where coins, urns, and tiles have frequently been dug up. Surlock Street, where stands the chapel in the engraving, is a hamlet of the above parish, situate about one mile and a half from the parish church. About twenty-eight years ago Mr. John Ride, with others, missioned this neighbourhood, and a society was formed. The opposition raised against our friends for many years was great; several times, through priestly intolerance, they were turned out of the cottages where they worshipped. Mr. Mortimer, an excellent friend, of the Baptist denomination, came to live in the place, and took the society beneath his wing, allowing them his kitchen in which to worship. About three years ago he allowed us a piece of his garden on which to erect a connexional chapel; he also gave a donation of £5, and £3 9s. for his excellent wife. G. Palmer, Esq., laid the memorial stone, attended the opening, and contributed £20 to the chapel fund. H. Hewett, Esq., a gentleman in the neighbourhood, gave £5 for himself and £5 for a deceased friend. Mr. Cave gave £5; the Hon. Mrs. Tucker, £5; Mr. Darvil, £5. The chapel, which is an ornament to the neighbourhood, our enemies themselves being judges," is of the Norman style of architecture, twentyeight feet long, nineteen feet wide, and fourteen feet from the floor to the wall plate; the interior of the roof is a segment; the chapel is well lighted, having six circular

headed windows, ornamented by blocks of free-stone; the interior is very neatly fitted up, and all the wood work is stained and varnished. The total cost was £228 13s. 51⁄2d. Through the efforts of our friends we have at present only £70 debt on the premises. Much credit is due to Mr. John May, the builder, for the manner he executed his work, and to all concerned in the undertaking. During the past year (1865) it has been the birthplace of souls; the congregation and society have steadily increased; we have a Sabbath school and an adult Bible class in connection with this beautiful house of prayer, and our friends have resolved not to rest till it is free from debt. May the good hand of the Lord be with them and give them prosperity.

P. COATES.

TWO SCENES IN

CONNECTION WITH A SABBATH SCHOOL.

FIRST SCENE.-It was on a fine Sabbath afternoon in the month of November, that the teachers and scholars of a school in the village of B.-, had assembled to engage in their usual duties of religious instruction. One of the teachers, at the request of the superintendent, ascended the pulpit to open the school. After giving out the first verse of the beautiful hymn, commencing,

"Let worldly minds the world pursue;

It has no charms for me:

Once I admired its trifles too,

But grace has set me free,"

the harmonium, in sweet strains, struck up the tune; then, at a command from the teacher, all the scholars rose in good order, when he repeated the first two lines of the verse above. The voices of both children and teachers then burst forth with one accord, blending in sweetest harmony with the strains of the harmonium, until the incense of praise, which rose to God from the censer of hearts, caused a thrill of joy to run through the spirits of all who heard it. What a delightful sight! About 300 scholars; all-from those in the adult class to those in the infant-earnestly rendering a tribute of praise to God. How it carried the mind back to the time when the Son of David was greeted with a chorus of hosannas from the band of children who thronged around him; and forward to the period when the anthem of