A S. ALPHAGE. bright-eyed child with rather a puzzled expression of countenance, stood, Prayer-book in hand, ready to accompany her Mother to the daily Morning Service at Christchurch. "Alphage" cried she; "Alphage! who was he, I wonder? Ah!" she added, looking very wise; "now I come to think of it, that was the name of the very Church we went to one Sunday at Greenwich last year! "Mamma," she exclaimed to the lady who at that moment appeared; "do tell me quickly who S. Alphage was! I never remember having seen his name in the Kalendar before; was he anybody very particular?" "Every name in our Church Kalendar, my dear, belongs to somebody very particular as you express it, and must never be mentioned lightly or carelessly; if they had not been good and holy men, our Church in her wisdom would not have perpetuated their names for our example and encouragement. Now listen to his history as we gather it from the Chroniclers. "Alphage was one of a numerous and noble family in Gloucestershire; none wielded the lance better than he, or with his good, tough bow, brought down the flying game with more unerring aim: beloved by his parents, adored by his rough retainers, in the enjoyment of health, wealth, and a light heart, surely the Saxon youth ought to have been content! But, even in the ardour of the chase, or whether competing for the prize with his youthful compeers, in the athletic exercises of the day, a look of care on his broad brow, and an occasional expression of almost painful thought in the full, blue eye, betrayed that some deep undercurrent of feeling lay beneath his apparently careless exterior. "And now, I must transport you to a different scene; to the quiet Benedictine Monastery at Deerhurst, in a lonely cell, and at a small, rough-hewn altar, kneels one of the Brotherhood; his head is bowed upon his clasped hands, and as a ray of sun-light darting through the barred window falls upon that head, we may see that a mere youth is kneeling there. Yes, it is Alphage, the noble Saxon boy; he has forsaken his father and mother, his home, his all, to devote himself to God; and as he rises from the rough-hewn altar, and turns his face towards us, we recognize the same bright, youthful face we knew before, but it is a happier, a more glorious face, for on it rests the peace of God. "Alphage was no ascetic; he had not forsaken the pleasures of life, to shut himself out from its duties; no, he had devoted himself to do good, and all who heard his earnest exhortations, or watched him by the sick and dying, could not but exclaim, surely he hath chosen the better part.' conse 'During the holy season of Lent, Alphage would retire to a lonely cell, near the ancient city of Bath; but even here, the people flocked to him, either for coun sel, or help, and many youths, moved by his example and convinced by his sincerity, came to share his solitude. Nor would they be rejected, till he consented to their importunities, and by the aid of his wealthy kinsmen built a monastery, and forming his new pupils into a Brotherhood, placed a Prior over them; then, having prescribed rules for their regula tion, he again returned to his cell. This voluntary retirement was not destined long to continue, for the See of Winchester at that time becoming vacant, Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, crated Alphage to the Bishopric, to the great joy of all devoted to the interests of the Church: some indeed, shook their heads, and foretold that one so inexperi enced would prove unequal to the dignity of his vocation; but even these were soon compelled to own their error, for, while Alphage resided at Winchester, piety flourished throughout the diocese, unity reigned among the clergy and people, far and wide spread the fame of the 'goed Bishop Alphage.' At this time, his friend and patron, Dunstan, expired; his last prayer was that Alphage might succeed him in the Arch-Episcopacy, but it was not till eighteen years after his death, viz. in the Year of Grace 1006, that, his ardent desire was fulfilled. and "Five years had Alphage governed the See of Canterbury, when the Danes made an incursion into England; the whole nation was paralysed; many fled far inland, taking with them all their movable pro perty; some with stouter hearts joined the ranks of the Saxon army; and very many came to Alphage for help and encourage ment; and he, with kindly words and cheer ful mien, bade them welcome to his city, and gave them shelter for themselves and their little ones, bidding them keep up a good heart. Ethelred, the king, the same who is called the "Unready," was of a weak mind, and of but faint courage, and just as the Danes were landing on the coast, he fled from his army; and they, finding themselves without a leader, could offer but feeble resistance to the overpowering force, who had by this time firmly entrenched themselves on the coast. And now it was, that the bold heart, and bright courage of Christ's soldier, showed itself. He went to the Danish camp, purchased the freedom of many they had made captive, and gave clothes and food to those whom he had no power to redeem; and such was the veneration with which even these savage hordes regarded him, that yet all might have been well: but there was a traitor in the camp! Edric, an English malcontent, encouraged the Danes in their enterprise, and persuaded them to lay siege to Canterbury. When this design was discovered, Alphage was implored by the inhabitants to seek some present shelter, and to return to them when happier days returned; bat Alphage, resisting all their entreaties, exclaimed, that nothing should separate him from the poor ones of his flock! "The city was taken, on came the Danes, destroying everything in their way; nothing escaped their pitiless eyes; the old and PARISH INCIDENTS.-No. III.-THE Bellringer. N the first of May 185-, several young men and boys were plucking at the bells in the tower of ——, Oxford; there were a great many other people in the belfry and on the tower, passing to and fro, and all were in the highest spirits and excitement. One of the young men was ringing in an excited and reckless way-the very opposite to that in which church bells should be handled; he was repeatedly warned of the danger he was in, of entangling himself in the rope, and so being drawn up and dashed against the beams overhead, but paid no attention to what was urged, nor would he give the rope into another's hands. All at once, and while the rope was in some way coiled around some part of his person, he pulled the rope very violently, and overthrew the bell. Now all constant readers" of the PENNY POST should know what this is. To those not conversant in any way with bellringing, it will be sufficient to explain that when this happens the whole weight of the bell-in this case it was the tenor-is unsupported in its swing, except by the hand at the rope; a man's strength is nothing against the bell, and therefore unless he immediately lets go the rope, he must be drawn up and crushed against the ceiling of the belfry. In the present instance the young man could not let go, being entangled in the rope; there was no time for action, hardly for thought; he was being dragged up and was already a few feet from the floor, when suddenly, from whatever cause, the rope either broke or gave way near the bell, and being released, fell with him to the floor; the bell meanwhile swinging to and fro till it resumed its ordinary position. What effect this wonderful escape had on him who was thus preserved from a most sudden and awful accident, if not death, the writer cannot say it has never nor will be forgotten by him as an instance of that special and merciful care that God ever has over His creatures. SIR, I send you the above account of what I have looked upon as an instance of Special Providence as a witness of the occurrence I can vouch for the particulars. Faithfully yours, W. H. B. If there is one charm in the landscape which England more eminently supplies than any other country in the world, it is the little picturesque village Church. There are few hills in this country, from which the eye, if it glances over the wooded vale lying beneath, can fail to discover some tapering spire, or pretty tower, rising above the trees. Other countries have their Churches too, but they are not built so prettily as in England. Once they might have been so, perhaps, but though we have had the Puritans, the countries through which I have travelled seem to have had an application, if possible, still worse. It is true those conceited fanatics did as much mischief in a few years as time with its slow pace could do, or rather undo, in centuries. Still, for the most part, their greedy fingers were content with destroying only those things that came easily within their reach. Abroad, the in the countries I refer to, the very fabric itself seems to have become an object of vengeance; and in a revolution, or one of those constantly-recurring civil wars, Church always served as the fortress, and generally met the fate of one, when the besiegers proved strongest. Whenever I see an English village Church, I recall the stanza from Cleveland Cone's little poem of Dreamland: "In Dreamland once I saw a Church; Can keep the Matin-hour." It was truly a dreamland scene to him, living in America, and I can well imagine the feelings with which, when on his visit to this country, he saw a real village Church-I mean a building that was old, and had seen all the trials and tribulations which the Church had gone through for centuries. How different from seeing a little lath and plaster, or stucco erection, of which the man who shows it tells you the whole history, as to who bought the ground, what was given for it, and how one builder sent in a lower estimate than another, and got the job; which fact he will tell you rather snappishly, because the other builder was his particular friend; and then, perhaps, you are enlightened as to the whole history of all the difficulties and petty quarrels which arose respecting the building. How dif ferent is the old village Church from this! The old sexton, who informs you that he is an old man, tells you that the Church is much older; he doesn't dare say how old. There was the man that had the place before him, and he died an old man, and he had heard him say how, that when he was a boy, the Church was just as old as it is now, every bit, sir; but who built it, sir? Why, if you went back hundreds of years, you couldn't find anybody who could tell you who built that Church, sir! And there it stands, its origin unknown, the piety of its founder unrecorded in this world, its history reaching backwards into the vista of years, as its spire stretches upwards till it loses itself in the sky. I don't find that my friends appreciate the village Churches as I think they ought to do. Very few of my companions will care to join me in a walk to see a Church. They look upon Churches, as a matter of course, as something belonging to a village, just like the village tree or the village inn. It wouldn't be a village, in their eyes, without the Church, and that's the use of the Church, to distinguish a village from a cluster of houses; but as to going out of their way to see a Church, or walking three or four miles to see a particular Church, they rather look with wonder upon me that I have such a singular taste. They don't make any positive objection, or argue the point, but merely say something about everybody to his taste. Whenever I can get away for a walk, I think there is no object so inviting to have in view as a Church. I have never yet found two alike; and as I make my way towards it, I picture to my fancy what it will be like, and think over the many I have seen. As I return in the evening, I find a real enjoyment in letting my imagi nation wander back into past ages and Scenes, and gathering all my knowledge together to bear on the history of the Church. But I should tell you, that I go systematically to work. I have already gained sufficient knowledge of architecture from books, and the assistance of a friend, coupled with the advantage I have had of many opportunities of visiting Churches, to tell the date of a building, not to within twenty years, perhaps, as good antiquaries do, but to within fifty. Besides this, I never lose a chance of a reference to the county histories of the neighbourhood in which I am staying; and if I find that there is a tomb to be seen in the Church, or the armorial bearings of any great man, I read all I can, relating to him and his family, so that I have not only the building to admire, but I am able to conjure up in my mind the images of the persons who probably once trod the aisles in which I am standing. At first, I admit, I thought the study of architecture very hard and unentertaining; but then I had not had the advantage of visiting a Church with any friend who could point out the peculiarities of the building, and show me the distinctive features in the tracery, the carving, and the mouldings, which marked the work of different periods. After a few walks with him, when I returned again to my home, and again took up my book, I found much that was unintelligible before, now quite easy; and by degrees I mastered all the important points of information in my little manual. Since then, I have had access two or three times to larger works, and each time I see any of these books I find fresh matters of interest in them; and each Church I visit, I seem to understand more and more about. Last March I sent a short account to the PENNY POST, of a walk which I took to Islip, when I was staying near Oxford. I chance in my note-book to have also some notes of one of the prettiest churches in the immediate neighbourhood; and it so happens that the cover in which my copy of last year's PENNY POST was sewn, has on the back the picture of a Church, which I recognize at once as that of my favourite, namely, Kidlington. In case some of the readers of the PENNY POST may have that volume, or in case the numbers for the present year may be bound in a similar way, I here have written down the substance of my notes, with some other information which I have gleaned since from books. Kidlington Church is evidently partly of the thirteenth century, and partly of the fourteenth. It seems to me that the original building, of the time of Henry the seats. Similar in design to the screen-work round the chancel, are the benches, which are beautifully carved. On one of them is the I. H. S.; on another is the Pelican: and there are several other devices. Third, was found too small. Accordingly, the old chancel, excepting one of the in the fourteenth century, it was very much enlarged, and some parts probably rebuilt. Here and there you see those narrow win dows-lancet-shape as they are technically called--which mark so clearly the first half of the thirteenth century; then you have near them, fine large windows, with mullions and beautiful wheel-like tracery, which shows that they were erected, and probably also those parts of the wall into which they are built, in the early half of the fourteenth century. The chancel, as it now stands, seems to be all of the fourteenth century: except the east window, which has been altered evidently in the fifteenth, and the wheellike tracery cut out, and the upright barlike tracery put in instead, marking so clearly the work of later times. Round the chancel is some beautiful wood-work; but this seems to belong to the time when they altered the window, and not to that of The spire, I have no doubt, was added in the early part of the fifteenth century; and I don't think they are by any means common of that date; such spires generally belonging to the thirteenth century. The porch too is very large and wide, the doorway richly carved. Altogether I know of no Church which puts the cha racteristics of the three different periods of architecture so plainly before a student as Kidlington Church. I certainly recommend none of my readers, who may be within a walk of the Church, to omit paying it a visit. If he is only half as gratified as I was, he will be repaid. LETTERS ON CHURCH EVENTS OF THE DAY. No. EAR SIR,-A correspondent sends me a few words about the African Mission:-"The readers of the PENNY POST will, doubtless, have entered into the very wide-spread interest which has been on all sides excited by the Mission to Central Africa, undertaken by Bishop Mackenzie, and supported by the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge, Dublin, and Durham. It may be of interest to them now to hear how this most important Mission is progressing, although the accounts we receive of it at present must be few and far between. "The little band of labourers landed at Kongone on Feb. 2, and there met with the far-famed Livingstone; Livingstone, the 'large-hearted' as he has been termed; Livingstone, who was waiting to receive this mission party of our Church, and who had previously declared that this Mission work must be done by England, and by the Church of England. After some discussion Dr. Livingstone and the Bishop started from Kongone for the mouth of the Rovooma river, on the 21st of February, intending to proceed up that river, and hoping to find it a clear and For further particulars of this interesting Mission, see the First Report, which can be obtained on application to the Hon. Sccs. 5, Mitre Court, Temple, E.C. 10. uninterrupted stream which would lead them at once to the high ground on the borders of Lake Nyassa. But in this expectation they were disappointed, being obliged, after proceeding thirty miles up the Rovooma, to return to Johanna, one of the Comoro Islands, where Bishop Mackenzie had left the remainder of his missionary party. A letter received from Mr. Waller, the lay superintendent of the mission, informs us of the reason of the Bishop's return. "It was impracticable,' he declares, for the Dr. and the Bishop to push up the Rovooma further than some thirty miles at that season of the year." They returned to Johanna the beginning of April, and immediately set out for the Zambesi, and it was the hope of the Bishop and his indefatigable band of fellow-labourers, that they might get to their quarters the beginning of May, but up to this time no further news has been obtained from them; and a long letter, written by the Bishop, giving an account of his journey up the Rovooma, has not at present been received. "The wide-spread interest which this mission excited from the very first, seems to be increasing, and we feel that, the more that is heard of it, and the more its real object is understood, that interest will go on spreading and increasing. |