are also mentioned by eminent writers, but very little is said about them. It is rather singular that St. Michael should be considered the patron of hills; certainly churches on hills are frequently dedicated to him. Can this belief and very general custom have anything to do with the following silly tale?— Michael is said to have appeared to a certain bishop, and bade him go to a hill-top, where, if he found a bull tied, he was to found a church, and dedicate it to God and St. Michael. The bishop obeyed, and found the bull, and proceeded to found the church, but a rock on each side hindered the good work, whereupon Michael appeared to a man, and told him to go and put away the rock, and fear nothing.

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So the man went and sette to his shoulders," and he bade the rock go away in the name of God and St. Michael," and so the rock departed to a necessary distance!" Whether this legend caused the association between St. Michael and elevated spots, or whether the archangel's reputed fondness for hills gave rise to the legend, it is not worth while enquiring.

It is a very common and laudable custom to eat roast goose on Michaelmas day; laudable that is, if you can well afford it, and if you cook it properly. Some antiquarians explain the usage as having arisen in the time of Queen Elizabeth, that royal lady having been, it is asserted, dining on goose on the 29th of September, when news was brought to her of the defeat of the Spanish Armada, and she in commemoration of this event dined on goose ever afterwards on that day, and as all ranks of her subjects, to the best of their ability, followed her example, goose became the fashionable dish for the feast of Michaelmas. All this sounds very plausible, but that painstaking antiquary, Mr. Brand, declares that the custom is of much earlier origin, for in 1470 it is recorded that a certain "John de la Hay took of William Barnaby, Lord of Lastres, in the county of Hereford, one parcel of the land of that demesne, rendering twenty

pence a-year, and one goose fit for the lord's dinner on the feast of St. Michael the Archangel, with suit of court and other services."

And who shall presume to decide the question when two such notable authorities as Brand and Douce disagree? Certainly no one who is not an F. S. A.!

This month is the last in which the botanist and the florist have full scope for their pleasant toil; the flowers of the forest, of the field, and of the garden are few and far between as the month wears on; and when it closes, only a few pale blooms remain, wherewith to gladden autumn's sober sunshine. But September is a month rich in gorgeous sunsets and glowing hues; now are the berries of the mountain ash or rowan-tree in all their glory; now, cre the early frosts touch bud and leaf and petal, our lawns are gay with many-coloured verbenas, bright salvias and flaming pelagoniums, to say nothing of the dalilias and hollyhocks that are quite a show of themselves!

But they are the last; all their buds will never expand; ere long their sweet beauty will decay, their softest tints will fade, their leaves will droop, and their petals strew the ground; for the time of flowers is past, and we must wait in patient hope as we wait for the resurrection of many a buried hope, till the spring comes back again.

With a few verses from one of Felicia Hemans' many graceful, pensive lays we close this paper. It must, surely, have been written, this "Parting of Summer," in the sweet, sad days of the mellow, waning September:

"Thou'rt bearing hence thy roses,

Glad Summer, fare thee well!
Thou'rt singing thy last melodies,
In every wood and dell.

"But ere the golden sunset

Of thy latest lingering day,
Oh! tell me on this chequered earth
How thou hast passed away.

"Brightly, sweet Summer! brightly,
Thine hours have floated by,
To the joyous birds of the woodland
boughs,

The rangers of the sky.

CHAPTER XIV.

WHEN Lowly rose from her knees, she saw a man, dressed like a shepherd, standing before her. He looked on her with a countenance full of love and kindness, and Lowly called to mind the view of the Good Shepherd which she had seen at the Interpreter's house, and she felt sure in her own mind that He would help and deliver her. She told him what had befallen her companions, and he observed that the men would never have had power to seize them, if they had not gone back, in their hearts, to the pleasures of sin. Lowly then related to the Shepherd how they had been detected in the act of singing and dancing to one of their tunes. "I thought as much," replied he, they will suffer for it." "But is there no help, dear Sir ?" cried Lowly. "I am sure they were sorry for it directly afterwards. O! forgive them, for they knew not what they did." Then I saw that the Kind Shepherd smiled on the little maiden, and said, "Be not cast down, there yet is hope." Then he took Lowly to his lodge, and provided her with a plentiful supper and a soft couch, where she reposed until the following morning. When she awoke, her first thoughts were those of gratitude to her Lord, but she soon recollected her friends, and was beginning to grieve again, for they had never been separated since they commenced their journey, and she felt very lonely without them, and she feared that they would never be her companions again. But, all at once, she remembered the loving smile of the Good Shepherd, and she resolved to leave her cause in His hands. When she had walked about for some time in the pleasant fields of her friend the Shepherd, a messenger was sent to

She

call her to the morning meal. followed him into a large cheerful apartment, where the breakfast was provided. But what was her joy at beholding her two friends there. They sprang forward to meet her, and embraced her lovingly, and there were tears and smiles in that happy interview. The boys told Lowly that the men had tied them up, and beaten them cruelly, because they tried to make their escape, and that they had spent the night in deep anguish and repentance, when, just at dawn of day, a shepherd came softly into the tent, without waking the sleepers. He said not a word, but loosed their bands, and led them out of the tent across the road into his own meadow, where was a stream of clear water. There he washed their bruised and bleeding bodies, for they had been sorely treated by the cruel men. They felt greatly refreshed after their washing, and then lay down on the mossy banks of the stream, and had a short but refreshing slumber. They awoke and sang "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul, He leadeth me into the paths of righteousness for His name's sake." Then they were summoned to the morning repast, and had but just arrived when they saw Lowly enter the apartment. The children were seated, and discoursing lovingly together, when their Good Master entered. He gave them his blessing, and made them partake of the provisions which were on the table, and they made a hearty meal. The little travellers remained all that day with the Shepherd, and left the lodge at early dawn the following morning. After another beautiful repast the Kind Shepherd set them in the

way once more, bidding them beware of the tempter, and exhorting them to cry earnestly for help when they were in trouble. The poor children walked forward somewhat sadly, for they very much dreaded passing through Vanity Fair. "I can bless the Lord for my sufferings while I was in the tent," said Earnest, for they have made me see evil in its proper light." "I have just been thinking the same," replied Fearless, "if we had not been so cruelly beaten by those people, I dare say I should have turned to these vanities, but now I know that the way of transgressors is hard, and the end thereof is destruction. This is not the first time I have had reason to say, 'It is good for me that I have been afflicted."" Then Lowly said, "I think we had better not trust to ourselves. There are some good and holy men living in the town, let us seek them and beg their protection and assistance." The boys gladly agreed to Lowly's proposal, and they all walked on briskly. Now it was very early in the morning, and not many of the townspeople were astir, for they keep up their festivities and merchandize through the night, and retire to rest when pilgrims are rising in the morning. They saw

only a few poor persons, who were either too busy to attend to them, or too idle to take further notice than a stare or a contemptuous toss of the head. So they made their way towards the house of Mnason, for the Good Shepherd had given them his direction. He received them joyfully, and asked whether they would like to stay awhile in the town, or whether they would rather pass through it at once. "I should like to see the place where Faithful was put to death, and the prison where he and Christian were confined, if you please, Sir," said Lowly. "We shall pass them on our way," replied their host. Then," said the boys, "let us go at once, for if we should come in contact with those strolling players, they might force us to go back with them." "No fear of that," replied Mnason, "if they see that I am with you, and that you are steadfastly resolved to resist them. It is only when the pilgrims' own inclinations lean that way that the tempter is allowed to overcome them. But I think it will be wiser to go forward into the highway; unless the Great Master commands us to sojourn

in the land of sin we are better away from it, and when His providence places us amidst temptations, He can deliver us from their power." So they went on, (viewing the prison and stake of the pilgrims of old in their way) till their kind friend had led them to the outskirts of the town-on the further side. He then took a loving farewell of them, giving them some provisions he had very kindly and thoughtfully brought for their use. "Thank God!" exclaimed Fearless, "He has been better to us than our fears, and much better than our deserts. I seem to breathe more freely here than in that town; and it would have been worse in the heat of the day, filled with people, and noisy carriages.' Then they sang :

"O what is the sinner's joy,

His dances and revels so gay?
His pleasure is mix'd with alloy,
And ever is passing away.

"May we on our pilgrimage go

With Zion's blest city in sight,
Till we leave all our sorrows below,
And dwell in the regions of light."

CHAPTER XV.

THEN the children travelled on to the Plain of Ease, and they sat down to rest on its mossy banks, and refreshed themselves with the sweet cool waters of the stream, and ate of the food given to them by their good friend. They saw, at a distance, the Hill Lucre, with its silver mines; and as quite a large colony of fortune-seekers had settled there, and fresh adventurers are constantly visiting it, the place has become thickly populated. There are extensive gold-diggings too, in that quarter, and many extortioners and covetous persons, who are idolaters, have their treasures and their hearts in that "Mammon," as the town is now called. Our little friends kept aloof from the place, although many a tempting offer was made to them by passers by. The pillar of salt still stood as a monument, but few took warning by it, and many who thought themselves pilgrims turned aside and perished in the pit. But the children prayed earnestly that they might not be tempted beyond their strength, and their Lord led them safely on in the right way. Their way now lay by

the banks of the river of the water of life. They plucked the fruit that grew on the river's bank, and ate it plenti

fully, and bathed in the waters. Here were no enemies to alarm, no false friends to tempt them. But even this place (delightful as it was) was not their rest. They went on, kept clear of Doubting Castle, for the building was in ruins, yet there was much danger, for it was infested with venomous reptiles, and robbers, who did much harm to thoughtless pilgrims. Their next station was the Delectable Mountains. The shepherds saw them, and came to meet them with a hearty welcome. They brought them to the banqueting room, where they supped, and afterwards they retired to rest. The following morning the shepherds took them to the top of the mountain, where was an observatory with many windows, commanding views of the country in every direction. From one of these windows they saw Mount Ararat with the ark resting on its summit, and the family of Noah offering sacrifice on the altar. Then they saw Mount Moriah, where Abraham offered up Isaac. Then Horeb, where God appeared unto Moses. They saw the burning bush, which was not consumed. Their next view was Pisgah, where Moses was gazing on the beauteous vision of Canaan. Then they saw Mount Sinai, with its thunders and flaming terrors, and Mount Hor, where Aaron was buried, and Mount Ephraim, which was Joshua's burial place. They saw also Gerizim and Ebal, the mounts of blessing and cursing, balmy Gilead, dewy Hermon, and Lebanon with its lofty cedars. They then viewed Gilboa with a mighty army encamped. They saw the lifeless bodies of Saul and Jonathan, and seemed to hear David singing, "How are the mighty fallen!" Then they looked at Carmel, where they beheld Elijah and the prophets of Baal, and heard a mighty chorus of voices exclaiming, "The Lord, he is the God!" But what interested our little pilgrims most was Mount Tabor, with the Lord Jesus in shining raiments, and Moses and Elias appearing unto Him. They looked long at this view, and exclaimed, "Master, it is good to be here." But at length they turned their eyes towards the Mount of Olives. There they saw their Saviour alone in the early morning, after having spent the whole night in prayer to His heavenly Father. Their last view was Calvary. There, on the cross, they saw that same dear Saviour expiring

in agony. It reminded the children of the view at the Interpreter's house, and they gazed long and tearfully at this sad scene, till their guides drew them gently away, and bade them look through a powerful telescope. At first their eyes were so dazzled that they saw nothing clearly, but after a while they saw their Lord ascended into heaven and sitting on the right band of God His Father on Mount Zion"That is the city to which you are hastening, my dear little ones," said one of the shepherds, "keep your eyes and your thoughts on that glorious scene, and it will cheer you through the remainder of your pilgrimage. Yet a little while, and you shall see Him whom you love, and who has loved you, and given Himself for you." Their kind friends then led them down from the mountains on the other side, and took leave of them, commending them to the care of their heavenly Father. Our little travellers walked on their way, without meeting with any adventures till they reached the Enchanted Ground. The sun shone brightly, and the weather became very hot towards noon, and when they had walked a little way in the ground they were almost exhausted, and could not cheer each other. Lowly would have fallen down in a fainting fit, had not her friends held her up with all their might. But even the boys felt their strength failing, and painful drowsiness taking possession of them. Then they all cried aloud, "Wilt thou not revive us again, O Lord ?" and just then a lovely breeze sprang up, laden with refreshing odours, and they felt stronger every time they breathed it. Then Earnest thought he saw (through the mist) a stream of water not far from the highway, and a little path leading directly to it. He told Fearless of his discovery, and asked him to come with him, and bathe in the stream, promising Lowly to return in a short time. "Surely it cannot be wrong to refresh ourselves, when we are so languid; I shall fall asleep, I fear, if I do not." "No," said Fearless, "I do not intend to go out of the way for anything. Perpaps we shall meet with a stream in this desert, but if not, I will perish in the highway, if I must perish." "That's right, dear Fearless," exclaimed Lowly. "Do not let anything lead us astray again." So they persuaded Earnest to keep in the

way. They tried to sing praises in the desert, and to pray to their Lord, and to trust Him in their sorrows as well as in their joys; and gradually got the better of their drowsiness. As they journeyed on, they saw a sign. post, with a written notice, warning them of that very water, which was a stream flowing direct from the Dead Sea, and all who bathed in that stream, or drank of its poisonous waters, died. They passed on with fear and gratitude, to think that they had not yielded to temptation, and turned aside before they had seen the warning. they sang :

"Though the way is dull and dreary, As we poor pilgrims roam;

Then

Though we're sad, and faint, and weary,
We're getting nearer home.

"Then we'll heed not wind or weather,
Whatever ills may come,
We will walk and sing together,

Till we arrive at home."

CHAPTER XVI.

As our pilgrims travelled on, it became cooler every hour, and the breezes blew sweetly from the Land of Beulah. They could hear, also, the songs of the birds, as they soared over head; and the bells of the City (as their chimes were wafted on the air) filled them with hope and joy. They were leaving the desert behind them, and flowers seemed to spring up all around. At sunset they saw before them a temple of pure white marble, surrounded by lovely trees, some of which were in full blossom, while others were bending down with ripe fruit. The sight of this welcome resting-place seemed to give them fresh strength and courage to run the race set before them, and they ran nimbly on, till they came to the lodge. There they were met by a company of Blessed Ones, who welcomed them with shouts of joy. They entered the temple, where they were fed, washed, and led to their chambers, where they soon forgot all their past sorrows in refreshing slumbers. At daylight the following day they awoke strengthened and refreshed, and hastened to join the glorious company below. There was so much to see and hear, and so many lovely spots in the neighbourhood to visit, that many days passed quickly and joyfully away, until one morning Lowly said, "May I not go across the river to Mount

Zion, and see Him whom my soul loveth? Everything here is lovely and glorious, but I want to go forward to the throne of the blessed Saviour: " but her answer was, " Tarry yet a little longer, very soon shalt thou cast thy crown at the feet of thy Redeemer." So Lowly waited patiently, but every day she walked towards the river of Death. The first time she saw its deep waters, she shuddered, and feared she never should have courage to cross them; but every visit seemed to make her more familiar with it, till, at last, she would sit for hours by its banks, and feel that its waters were the only obstacle to the fulfilment of her wishes. She liked to watch other pilgrims cross the stream, and to cheer and comfort them in their last moments. One day she had bidden farewell to a friend (as she stepped into the river) and was returning to the temple when she was met by one of the Shining Ones, who said, "The Master is come, and calleth for thee." So she took a loving farewell of her two beloved companions, thanked them for their kindness to her during their pilgrimage, and asked their forgiveness for anything she might have done to displease them. Then the boys began to weep, and they fell upon her neck, and kissed her, sorrowing most of all for the words that she spoke, that they should see her face no more. And they accompanied her to the river side. As they went, they conversed together on the way their Lord had led them through the wilderness. As they drew near, Lowly plainly saw a company of the Shining Ones, bearing a crown, and a harp, and a heavenly garment for her. Then Earnest and Fearless wept again, in the bitterness of their spirit, for they dearly loved their little friend, and felt how great a help she had been to them by her quiet example and gentle behaviour. But Lowly said, "What mean ye to weep and break my heart? I am not lost, but gone before. Yet a little while, and you will join me in the Celestial City, and then we shall never part again.' Then she embraced them, and stopped into the river, and when she had got half way through (for the water was very shallow at that time) she sang, "O death, where is thy sting? O! grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be

unto God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." Then