christened-baptised into the name of Jesus Christ. Are we sure? Children, in these times, are by some denominations left unbaptised, grow up unchristened. How many of them may go through life, and die without the Symbol of our new birth here by the Spirit, without the Symbol of our new birth hereafter by the death of Him who is risen again! Hither they may be brought to be buried, perhaps to the place where they were born, perhaps to the birth and burial place of father or of mother, perhaps to the place whither their parents were brought as strangers, to be buried by the side of theirs. A care for the body after death has been known to survive every other care connected with religion. This may be a sad thought: but a sadder still, is that many an unbaptised youth, cut off perhaps on the threshold of the opening world, is the better Christian than many a one baptised-yes, and confirmed yes, perhaps, than old experienced men, that have from time to time visibly pressed with their teeth the Symbol of that Flesh which was given to Death for the sin of the world. Certainly, one may separate the wish for a primitive frequency of communion-the belief that of all rites this Christ-appointed one is most calculated to awaken and strengthen the spirit of faith and love, repentance and reformation, prayer and praise from that imagination of the Jesuits, so plainly portrayed on St. Francis Borgia's medalet, that the sacraments are profitable of necessity from the mere working of the work of administration; needing therefore no great preparation; and not a mind purified and full of heavenly love. (Mosheim, Cent. 16, sec. iii., p. i., c. i., s. 36.)

It, perhaps, is morally as well as mathematically true, that a week's preparation for a monthly communion is commensurably more than a month's for a yearly one; and would less than double the proportion of a day's preparation for a weekly one. In point of fact, it is only impressions made upon the senses in worship that weaken by frequency of repetition. The spiritual impression strengthens. Hence it is that the habit of simply spiritual prayer increases the enjoyment and profitableness of it; while the habitual attendance upon pompous solemnities makes them pall upon the spirit. Thus, let any act of simple worship be ever so frequent-supposing it not so frequent as to jade the spirit through the corporeal powers of our mortality-its frequency acts beneficially on our immortal nature. Such an act is communion. Its symbols are not addressed chiefly to the senses: for there is no similarity between the Body of Christ and the Bread, as there is between His Passion and the Crucifix: and there is very little between His Blood and the Wine; and what little there is, is not what is intended. The similarity is one perceived by the memory, the judgement, and the faith; and these are not bodily senses. In like manner, the impressions made are not to be guaged by corporeal symptoms. It is not by the fast-flowing tears, by the irrepressible sigh, by the scarcely smothered groan, by the swimming vision, by the throbbing pulses, by the beating heart, by the trembling hands, and by the fainting frame, that the benefit of religious rites is to be tested. The solemn, the infrequent,

the unwonted, have, indeed, something to do with these which are, though sensuous and corporeal effects, as irreprehensible as they are natural when so awakened. But it would be reprehensible deliberately to sacrifice higher considerations to these; patience and strength in the trials and temptations of trouble and sin, and other sanctifying changes which ensue, from constantly and frequently remembering and showing forth the Lord's death till His coming again. But these effects are not heightened in the exaltation of the Symbols. That will, it is true, subdue the senses more, at times with awe at times perhaps even preternaturally warp their operation; and the more so, by the addition of infrequency and mystery of solemnisation; and with regard to this, familiarity breeds carelessness, if not contempt; to counteract which will demand the asceticisms of Loyola, and Xavier, and Borgia, to fit the frame for unusual ecstacies and horrors. A shrewd perception of this may have been one of the reasons which led Ignatius to wish his order freed from the burdensome pageantry of the many monastic daily services; as it may have been a conviction of the real benefits of frequent social worship of an unformal character, which led our Church to wish that, if practicable, her purified daily morning and evening service should be retained. Raptures and revelations, torments and terrors, went far to canonise Ignatius, Francis Xavier, and Francis Borgia. But are these the requisites of a saint? Does St. Paul, when he almost ventures to put forth his own, deny that his adversaries may have had them? No: Balaam was not forgotten; and Paul discerned the spirits of the humble and ungifted saints in the Churches to which he wrote. Will not these things be out of question before the judgementseat of Christ? What mention is it likely will there be made of what Ignatius supposed his vision of the Mother of God in glory with her infant-any more than of that Rabbinical ascetic's vision, who perhaps was as sincere in reporting that he beheld Mariam the mother of the Nazarene hanging by her breasts in the Gehenna of Fire? God forbid we should seek the revival of such tests of sanctity. "No one putteth

:

new wine into old skin bottles," said the Lord and these are as old as Pharisaism and Brahminism. Loyola beheld in vision the process of the transubstantiation of the Host. What wonder that the medalist represented angels adoring it? Its exaltation, and the wonder-working properties sometimes claimed for the baptismal Symbol-to what a distance have they led our musings! And the boy has not yet brought either clerk or keys. Both the man and his wife, and all the little ones, are probably hard-working in the fields while we sit here at rest in the resting-place of all.

How delightful to sit under one of these dark trees of centuries, and indulge serious thoughts on the shortlived dust that feeds them! There were times when some of the baptised were refused burial here. Durand speaks of some that should not be buried in the Church, and gives good reason for it. Here is his book, p. 103. "For it seemeth that that place of sepulchre profiteth not." Yet you will find, by reading on, that he gives two stories, from the Dialogues of the Blessed Gregory,

which, if as supernaturally true as they may have been naturally in the way of priestcraft, would go far to prove that place of sepulchre in such miraculous ground must needs profit much, if the sepulchre remained inviolate. He quotes, too, St. Augustine to the effect, that "to be buried near the tombs of martyrs advantageth the dead in this, that, by commending him to the guardianship of the martyrs, the earnestness of our supplication for him may be increased." It is pity we have not here St. Augustine to refer to; for, the relation of means and end in the English sentence being obscure, that of effect and cause is unintelligible also. Here it appears, sec. xiv., p. 105, that a christened man slain in mortal sin, as adultery, theft, or some forbidden amusement, was not to be buried in a Christian cemetery: Again, "If any one returning from any place of fornication be slain in the way, or be slain anywhere, where by unforeseen case he he hath tarried, he is not to be buried "in the common cemetry," if proved to have died unconfest or uncontrite. Neither the suicide. Neither any attacking another, and dying impenitent. A man, found dead, was to be buried where found, on account of the doubtful cause of his death. Others there were, brought here-but with difference. Defenders of justice and those engaged in pious fight, if slain, were not brought into the church, "lest the pavement be polluted with blood." One dying suddenly in games accustomably used, as ball, because be desired not to injure any, was buried here; but some said without psalms or other obsequies, because occupied in worldly matters. Durand gives other instances where was a difference of opinion. In framing any rules for this, there must always have been much room for casuistry. Nothing seems likely to have met all such exigencies, but a revival of the Egyptian judgement between death and burial-a revival by no means to be wished, for several reasons. But it is, indeed, a striking Symbolism of the difference between those ages and our own, as the editors of this translation would say, that cases are known of persons, not in communion with our Church, not even of her congregations-nay, members of other congregations-desiring her office for their children dying unbaptised, because the name had been recorded by the registrar.

While looking at this chapter of Durandus let us notice the confusion into which his editors have fallen, in a note (p. 103) on those buried in the cave of Macpelah. He says, there were buried Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Jacob, Adam and Eve. For " Adam and Eve," they propose to read Leah and Rebekah; because, they say, "the Bishop speaks below of three patriarchs and their three wives. Now, in the first place the Bishop does, indeed, take for granted that the wives of Isaac and Jacob were buried there too; but it is Hierome whom he quotes as speaking of the three patriarchs and their three wives. In the next place, St. Isidore is quoted directly after, as saying that Adam was buried in the inner part of the double cave, according to a tradition of the Hebrews. Now, this, if so, would account for Hierome's speaking of only three patriarchs, those of the Hebrew race, because Isaac and Jacob would naturally be buried in the same outer chamber

as Isaac's father. It may be remarked that, before the occupation of the country by the Israelites, Hebron, where the cave was, was called Kiriath Arba, alluding (according to some) to the obvious meaning in Hebrew and the kindred languages-"The City of Four," or "City of the Four," as it is in one place. (Gen. xxxv., 27.) The derivation would seem not improbable, if the tradition about Adam be only supposed true but opinions on this name are rather too various for present discussion.

No keys yet. One of the Smiths wrote some verses on churches, every stanza of which ended with

"Why are they shut?"

But, in sober sadness, could they, as a general rule, be open? In towns sometimes the opposite practice has been tried, and no evil resulted: for every man thinks that every man's eye is upon him there; and, alas! the possibility of that is often stronger than the certainty that God's eye is. But when we see how the rural population often treat their churchyards, one had better wait a little, perhaps, before the doors are opened. Let us examine a few features of the exterior, which, otherwise, we should have left for our farewell.

From sec. 23 of Durand's 1st chapter, entitled "Of the Pinnacles," but mentioning only "The cone, that is the summit of the church, of great height and of round shape," we may imply that round spires were not unusual, however they be now. "It signifieth," says he, "how perfectly and inviolably the Catholic faith must be held." The perfection of the Symbolism is certainly far less than the beauty of the Symbol, or the truth of the thing symbolised. Thus Nash's "extinguisher," as it has been called, on the church in Langham-place, is thoroughly Catholic and symbolic, which probably no one suspected; beautiful as it would have been, if elevated on, instead of sticking through, the second colonnade, which, as it is, is an eyesore, whatever defect may have existed without it. The "cone" of Durandus, however, it is possible, though described as of great height, may have been but such a roof as most fitly may be designated by that name; and the height intended may be but the proportional height at which the cone begins; as at the Round Church, Cambridge, at present so lamentably notorious, from its stone altar. The Circular churches are symbolised by Durand. One of his interpretations is, that "from the circle of this world we reach forth to that crown of eternity which shall encircle our brows." (Sec. 17, p. 26.) Few things could be said more futile on the subject. The other is rather better: it is "the extension of the Church throughout the circle of the world;" citing the Psalmist's words, "Their words unto the end of the world." (Ps. xix. 4.) A dedicatory inscription to "Him who sitteth on the circle of the earth,” (Is. xl. 22,) might not be inappropriate. this passage of Durand, adds to our four round churches yet standing, two in ruins-Temple Aslackby, in Lincolnshire, and that in Ludlow Castle. In Normandy we hear there are none; in France few, and

A note of the translators on

those early. That modification of the cone which we call (as in the Langham-place Church) a spire, evidently forms a fine termination to a Round Ante-Church. Nor would it be an inappropriate finish over an hexagonal one on the model of the Hexagonal Porch of Ludlow Church. English poets have symbolised it better than Durandus did the cone :

“Its silent finger points the way to heaven.”

That perfection of the faith which Durand typified by the cone, Hugh of St. Victor figured by the tholus or ball above it, on which the cross stands. Or else this union "signifies," he says, "the world redeemed by the price of the cross." The emblem is found on the imperial medals after Constantine: it has moulded itself anew in the regalia of the western kingdoms, and has descended to the hands of our own sovereigns from their Saxon predecessors.

But, over the cross is a cock impaled upon an iron rod. He is not a very good image of the reality, and he is very vacillating. The Romanists of the sixteenth century-and, among them, perhaps, may be particularised the celebrated French preacher, Besse-crowed exceedingly over Protestants for pulling down crosses and setting up weathercocks; a Symbol, according to them, of the inconstancy of our heretical notions. Yet is the weathercock quite Catholic and ancient, for both Durand and St. Victor (and Besse himself may, perhaps, be added) symbolise him most nobly, and even his presumptously preaching atop of the cross. It would be tedious to go the whole length of the course which these Symbolists have run on this insignificant emblem. Being all three Frenchmen, could there be any nationality in a punning eulogium on its Latin name, GALLUS? The cock that aroused St. Peter's conscience is pressed into the service, though neither Durand nor St. Victor quotes him. But all are agreed that these cocks represent preachers. If we could but forget the excessive absurdity of the situation on which the cock is perched, perhaps 200 feet above the highest dunghill in the neighbourhood, the "mystery conveyed in each of the particulars" concerning him is not without its ingenuity and even beauty. "Ever watchful, even in the depth of the night, he giveth notice how the hours pass;" "awakeneth the sleepers, foretelleth the approach of day, but first stirreth up himself to crow by the striking of his wings." If the application of these observations be not obvious, one must refer you to the interpreters. They observe, too, that, as the weathercock turns to face the wind, the preacher must turn boldly to meet the rebellious by admonition and argument. And "the iron rod whereon the cock sitteth"-can a Symbol be fastened upon that too? Yes; it "showeth the straightforward speech of the preacher, that he speaketh not from the spirit of the man, but, according to the Scriptures, of God. As it is said, IF ANY MAN SPEAK, LET HIM SPEAK THE ORACLES OF GOD." (1. Peter, iv. 2.) So Durand; so St. Victor. Courage, Protestants! Their champions are for us; their steersmen ready to throw tradition overboard. Will they rise from their graves