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The old wooden archway was dark and chill after the open road, and its floor was paved with rough stones. That was as it should be, Rosy thought, grasping Freddy tightly-difficult and stony and dark, and she must be on the look-out for the Devil, for he would assuredly be somewhere near. One look back, then a quick dart through the gateway, and the children were landed in the three-cornered piece of forgotten graveyard with the little church on one side, and the beetle-browed, round-shouldered sixteenth-century houses forming the two others.

Rosy gave no heed to the headstones, half-buried themselves in rank grass, till their carved cherubs only looked out from the tangled surroundings; there was the church door wide open, and the church itself lay flooded with golden, and crimson, and blue, as the afternoon sun poured through the painted windows, and dyed its dimmest, mustiest corners with colour and light. And the angels with their harps must be there, too, for, hark! peal on peal of heavenly music filled the air. Rosy's eyes swam with sudden tears as the unaccustomed sight and sound touched her senses; this was the Heaven that mother used to talk about-perhaps mother herself was waiting inside! One step more within the dazzling radius of that rainbowtinted sunshine, and Rosy was certain- -she had indeed reached the other side of the tomb. For there, right before her, on the wide stone slab, whose carven words attest the benevolence of a three hundred years' dead and gone Dame Olive, lay four-and-twenty round, white cottage loaves, neatly ranged in rows of six apiece, and with their delicious smell (for they were still hot from the oven) ravishing Rosy's third sense more appealingly than even the music and the colours had done already.

The organ rang out louder and louder; 'Hallelujah! hallelujah!' it sounded plainly (for the vicar's daughter was practising for the Harvest Festival), and all the stars and diamonds of flashing colours from the western windows danced and sparkled like a sea of gladness round the children hesitating in the doorway. This was no time for listening to the angels, for wondering at the windows, even for looking for mother, Rosy felt. She reached up on tiptoe and lifted two of Dame Olive's flouriest, sweetest-smelling half-quarterns. Here was the means of comforting Aunt Martha for many deprivations; here was proof positive that Rosy had reached beyond the tomb to some of those good things that the child's faith in Mrs. Fowles's reiterated creed had so long sought after.

Mrs. Fowles climbed the grimy stairs to her attic with more alacrity than usual, having not only finished her work and been paid for it, which meant replenishment of the cupboard against Sunday, but having also encountered an unexpected visitor on her own doorstep. It was to this visitor that she kept calling over her shoulder, in a voice almost cheerful, as she came heavily up the stairs, fumbling

meanwhile in a deep pocket for the key of her room; so much engaged was she that she stumbled against the two children lying asleep against the door, Freddy's head on Rosy's lap. And, Gracious Sakes!' cried Mrs. Fowles, stooping and groping in the dim twilight of the passage, as she caught at what appeared to be her nephew's fair head, and it slipped from her grasp and rolled bumping down the staircase. Lord, ha' mercy, what's this here?'

'It's only me,' cried Rosy, starting wide-awake in an instant, 'we've been in such a splendid place, me'n Freddy, we've been in heaven and heard the angels an' the music, and brought you two beautiful half-quarterns from the other side of the tomb. Oh, Aunt Martha, stop that one a-rolling downstairs.'

Mrs. Fowles is wont to declare that the turn that there loaf gave her, and the children's wild talk and all, would have been quite sufficient to incapacitate her from further guardianship of Rosy and Freddy, even if their father had not returned in the nick of time to relieve her of it. And as for thieving the church bread, it was a thing she was sure she had never brought them up to, being a strict chapel member herself, knowing the folly of organ-playing, and Papist windows at Divine Worship. She never rightly understood Rosy's confused notion of reparation towards herself, but luckily the rector of St. George's, Tombland, to whom Rosy's father told the whole. story that evening after the children were safe in bed, had a trifle more imagination and more knowledge of child nature than Mrs. Fowles, and received the confession with such kindly laughter as that lady would have deemed highly unbecoming in a pastor of souls.

And Rosy's mental horizon has widened with proportionately improved physical conditions, so that her adventure beyond the tomb' has faded away as completely as the recollection of Aunt Martha's scanty bread and butter.

THE BRIXHAM CHURCH SHIP.

ABOUT a year ago your readers may remember seeing in the Monthly Packet' a short paper bearing the title, 'A Cry from the Sea.' This was an account of an effort being made by some of the Brixham fishermen to get a Church Ship, to follow them during their annual spring fishing cruise of three or four months in the North Sea. The men's appeal met with ready sympathy from Churchmen in all parts of England, and beyond England, for help was even sent from Cape Town among other places. The sloop Dauntless, which was used as a temporary Church Ship, sailed for the North Sea fishing grounds on April 21st. The Chaplain of St. Peter's, the Fisherman's Church, the Rev. A. G. Stallard, remained on board for the inside of three weeks; the Rev. W. K. Hampshire, from Torquay, followed him for three weeks more; and the last two Sundays were taken by the Rev. A. Fisher.

I suppose few landsmen' can form any idea of the difficulties and discomforts attending a Church mission on the high seas. The very cramped space in an ordinary smack's hold makes the carrying on of Divine Service no easy matter, especially when the vessel is rolling much. The weather is often a very disturbing element: a thick fog may make it quite impossible to find the fleet; the sea may run so high that it would be unsafe for small boats to put off from the smacks, and boarding the Church Ship would be impossible Then, too, the Brixham smacks fish with different North Sea fleets, perhaps hundreds of miles from each other, for the North Sea is a large place, and the Church Ship may have great difficulty in reaching some of her flock at all. As an instance of this, on one Sunday the Dauntless altogether missed the fleet she was making for, and only one man from a passing vessel could come on board for Holy Communion. The Church Ship, with her chaplain and crew, had to fight with these and other difficulties, and yet from the logs kept during the cruise, we find that no less than sixty-five services were held on board the Dauntless during the eight weeks of her mission. Of these, ten were Celebrations of the Holy Communion, and the number of communicants was sixtynine. The Chaplain was always anxious to be as particular as possible about those who were admitted to Holy Communion; and for this reason the Church Ship was kept rather at the outskirts of the fleet for the early Celebration, and sailed into the midst of the vessels for the other services.

I think, if we compare the statistics I have given with the number of services and communicants in a country church on shore during

seven Sundays, and think of the great efforts required in the Nortn Sea both from the chaplain and crew of the Church Ship and from those who came to the services, we shall feel that, by God's blessing, the work was worth doing, and that the men did indeed prove they truly valued the Church's help for which they had begged, and which was put within their reach last spring. Although the Church mission in the North Sea last season was chiefly among Brixham fishermen, it is hoped that as the work goes on and increases, other crews may be reached and helped. This is the earnest wish of the St. Peter's men themselves. Just under £200 was spent on the expedition last year, and there remains about £240 in hand. Those interested in the mission are most anxious if possible to collect fresh funds for an expedition in a temporary Church Ship again this spring, and to keep the money which is in hand towards building a permanent Church Ship, the cost of which is calculated at not less than £600 or £700. Contributions for either object will be gratefully received by the Rev. A. G. Stallard, Ranscombe House, Lower Brixham, or by Mrs. Maxwell Hogg, Berry Head House, Brixham.

H. F. M. H.

VOL. 15.

26

26

PART 88.

MY DEAR

THE CANTERBURY RELICS.

Yesterday I was at Canterbury, and I think it may interest you to hear from me of the remains, thought to be St. Thomas à Becket's, though you have very probably had other and better descriptions of them.

The friend with whom I went had an introduction from the Dean (who I am sorry to say does not believe in the relics) to Mr. A., who is a devout believer.

The bones were laid out on a board, and covered with a silken sheet, in a room of a house within the Cathedral precints, the very house indeed from which the Archbishop went to his martyrdom, as it is part of what was the Archiepiscopal Palace. Mr. A. told us that every bone had been found except one knee-cap. I am going to assume in writing to you that they are the true relics, as all the circumstantial evidence points that way, though there is of course no actual proof.

It is very remarkable to see the different state of the skull on the left side, compared to the rest. Not only is a small piece wanting, but it was broken in three or four fragments, as though, while living, it had been weakened or even broken by severe blows, which had caused it to decay away, not at all in connection with the natural sutures, which are perfect and fit tightly.

What struck me most about the 'face' (if one may use the word), was the mixture of strength and refinement in the lines of the chin and the cheekbone. The base of the chin is very broad and perfectly straight, and judging from its proportions to the mouth, it must have been short and prominent. All this part gave one the idea of a powerful character, as did the high bridge of the nose, which was much longer than one generally sees in a skull; the refinement and beauty were in the line of the cheekbone, to where the lower jaw ended in the straight square chin. The forehead is very broad and strongly marked above the eyebrows, and the head is altogether large in front, and highest above the forehead, as it rather falls away in the part which would be highest in a Greek statue, and again quite at the back of the skull it is rather full. I am sure when clothed with muscle and skin, the face must have had that wonderful expression of unearthly sweetness which Francia sometimes gives his saints, and I wish some artist who was sympatico could have made a careful study of the bones, and then drawn in the face, as it would probably have been in due relation to the form of the bones.

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