the nation, in its manners and customs, and very especially in its buildings—its architecture, have a language for us. Hence, when there is no longer anything left of a nation in the way of speech or act, yet there is a Whispering of the Walls which tells a good deal. And even when the speech and act are abundant, yet the Walls Whisper a fuller story, and often correct the false or boastful speech. That old Assyrian nation, for instance, so long lost and buried to us, with no speech or act recorded, surely her secrets are well hidden? Yes, until on a certain day we dug up her buried walls and found them full of this silent speech, letting out all her long-lost secrets. Here, we are told of a nation strong and rude, given to much war, with a religion the most enthusiastic, namely, the worship of indomitable strength and animal existence. Those big-bearded bulls, firm-footed, strong-muscled; those innumerable records of diverse war, all silently tell their own tale. So Egypt, with her vast tombs for the dead, piercing upwards into wide space, speaks of the worship of an earthly immortality, of a renown which will not suffer itself to be swallowed up by Time. Then there are the classical ages of Greece and Rome, with their grand dreams of beauty, sensuous life and valour. We read all this in their histories and poems; but we hear and see it only in the Whisperings of their Walls. It is there, in the stone records, hewn by a Phidias, a Praxiteles, that the reality of that long-past life is made clear and plain to us.

But now there comes a marvellous change! Where we saw the beautiful Apollo, there presently appears a suffering Christ; in the place of the sensuous Venus, is found a chaste Virgin; for bold warriors, we get robed saints. Physical beauty everywhere gives way at the approach of the more sublime moral beauty. And the Walls Whisper that a heathen world has become Christian. This, not only in their Crucifixes and Madonnas, but in vaulted roofs, pointed arches, and heaven-seeking spires. Further, if we would know how wealth and art and toil are all gathered in to this new Christian

worship, as time advances, the Walls will Whisper all the story, and name both place and date.

And when religious fervour cools, and material prosperity moves on apace, this debasement of the Christian life is recorded by tombs, and Churches, and wealthy mansions. And now, as mind gets hard, and heathenised, and enslaved to a sensuous life, there comes a feeble second birth of that old classic worship, without its former genius of beauty. And all this is spoken from the Walls, so that he who runs may read. But a merely galvanised life cannot last long. And the beautiful old Christian life is in a sadly bad way. Moreover, the union of faiths so opposite can but breed some monstrous form. This, too, is Whispered from the Walls.

It is then in vain that men write books of history of the Past, and say " This age was fair and that was foul." For there are the Whisperings of the Walls, which cannot speak lies, and will not be silenced. And by these shall historical truth and error make itself known to all.

And now we have reached the point to which we have all along been tending, namely this-that it is also in vain that men write histories of the Present, and say ought of praise or blame, if that which they speak be contrary to these same Whisperings of the Walls. Let us then turn from the uncertain, discordant utterances of spoken and written speech, to this silent, unfailing witness. Consult our Churches, palaces, and public buildings of, say fifty years ago. Will they whisper one sound of beauty, of feeling, of wisdom? Have they either a Christian, or even a heathen worth? Surely, if walls speak truth, that must have been a strangely lifeless time. But the fifty years have passed, and in these fast-travelling days, much change may be worked in that time. Yes, and what is our architecture now? Well, possibly the most striking modern achievement is our Crystal Palace. It has been called the new style of architecture. What are its distinctive features? First, size-infinite size; then wealth in modern manufacture-miles of extended iron, and multitu

dinous square feet of glass. The nave, transepts, and arch, which form the main features, are not original. Of beauty of detail, there is none. Of symbolism, there is much. These walls speak neither of the heathen physical beauty, nor of the Christian moral beauty; but, with a startling distinctiveness, they tell, everywhere, of the powers of wealth, and the achievements of commerce. Never did architecture speak a plainer language: never was it more truly representative of its age. The Parthenon, the Cathedral, did much and well to express the respective spirit of their own times; but for fulness and completeness of utterance, for the record of a nineteenth century English ideal of worship, we will give the palm to our Crystal Palace. But, perhaps the English are unfortunate in art; some think so. Will, then, the American buildings tell a better tale? There, all is of the warehouse type, square walls, square windows, houses all four-square; doubtless most suitable for holding an infinity of manufactured wealth; but of art and beauty, there is nothing. Shall we look to New Paris, the city of taste and of splendour. What do we find there? A terrible sameness of mere length, and breadth, and height; with the feeblest decorative ornament lavished all about, unmeaningly. The universal modern European worship of wealth and respectability, with a small, distinctive prettiness just added; this, and this alone, is the stone record of "the finest modern city in the world."

Such, as we hear them, are the Whisperings of the Walls, built in our to-day at home or elsewhere. They speak of riches, of manufacture, of material prosperity, and of a certain mean conception of form, which is not beauty in any kind. Do then our Walls for the first time tell lies? Or are we their builders after so much large boasting, proved to be so very poor a kind of creature? Let those who have the wisdom answer this as best they may.

But it would not be fair to conclude these remarks without adding, that there is not wanting at this time some witness to a new revival, not like that former one, of a heathen spirit,

but a true Christian Renaissance. Here and there, Churches, State buildings, dwelling-houses, and indeed places of commerce are springing up, which renew the old gothic forms of beauty; perhaps not always with much purity or power, but seemingly with good intent. What shall be the future fate of this revival? We will venture a prophecy. If the heart and life of our nation grow into a true Christian type, if the lust of wealth and gain, and an unbelieving materialism give place to the high Christian virtues, and there comes once more over our people the old spiritual enthusiasm, then all this beauty shall go Whispering from the Walls to generations yet to come, telling the full story of a past noble life. If not thus, then shall the very stones cry out against us, that we, in this our day, were not found worthy of our Christian name.

C. ANDERSON.

JANUARY.

CHRISTMAS

NOTICE

OF OUR PARISH WORK.

IT is now two months since our last detailed notice of the Services, Classes, &c. The time has not passed without marks of encouragement. First, in respect of the Sunday Early Celebration. There has been a decided increase in the number of communicants. Early on the first day of the week are assembled together a little band of worshippers in the Presence of Him whom they seek. A day and a week thus well begun is the promise of a day and a week not ill ended. Surely this is the service for very many in a large town parish, Here, there is no place for respect of persons, no hinderance from the claims of home duties, and family ties; or from the want of time, and the absence of scholarship. It will be well if one should lead another, and that other others, till the little band becomes a multitude, and thus this large parish finds itself leavened with such Christian members.

A special Confirmation was held in our Church on the Sunday-week before Christmas, at which 108 candidates from our own and neighbouring parishes received the Solemn Rite at the hands of Bishop Claughton. Not a few of these were of middle age; but very many were not more than thirteen or fourteen years old. It is well when the Church" suffers the little children to come," and that these came in a right spirit was evidenced by their devout manner, which obtained a special notice from the Bishop, in his simple homely address.

If we had nothing further to add to the above statements,