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on a Reredos. The Altar should in all cases be raised on a footpace, and should be from six to eight feet in length. Also it should have a Retable behind it, which should be of solid masonry and form a shelf on which to place the Cross and Candlesticks and Vases, if they are used. Then above that comes the Reredos, which if Sculpture is not to be employed, may be (1) a Painting on Wood, or (2) Hangings of Cloth-(in which case they should vary according to the Seasons of the year), or (3) better I think than either, is Powell's Opus Sectile, a new invention, which may be seen at S. Giles', Reading, in a Church built by Mr. R. Foster, Walthamstow, and elsewhere.
The material used is glass, dull and opaque, in appearance, with colours burnt into it, so that at a moderate cost, you may have an excellent picture produced; and if the colours employed are light, (as grey, and pale blue, and gold,) the outline is distinguishable at a considerable distance. If the chancel
walls of an ordinary church are painted, I should advise the employment of geometrical patterns in a single strong colour, (as chocolate,) which will not be injured by gas, and is easily renewed. If I mistake not, great improvement will be made in our churches in this way during the next twenty years.-Yours, &c., CLERIC.
SIR,-1. What ought to be done with old worn-out Bibles? Is it not more reverent to burn them than let them be used as waste paper?
2. For what purpose ought old Fonts to be used? One would suppose a poor Mission Church would accept such a gift, but I have seen an old Norman one on a Rectory lawn in which were growing some scarlet geraniums-the Passion-flower would not have been quite so bad.
SIR,-I should be much obliged if you will insert the following notice in your Magazine.
A Botanical Class conducted by correspondence under a superior Botanical critic will be formed in January. Rules on application with a stamped envelope. Yours, &c., Miss H. ROOPER, Ouseley Lodge, Old Windsor.
Sold for the benefit of a poor governess in delicate health: Five o'clock teatables, painted with birds and flowers in oils, double tray, 25s.-IOTA, S. Agnes' Home, Highgate Street, Birmingham. (Useful Christmas Present.)
Will any one be so kind as to assist a lady who is in very delicate health and has only limited means, by telling her of some light remunerative employment which she can do on the sofa? Answers or any assistance received by Miss L., care of Mrs. Drake, North Street, Romford, E.
BISHOP WILBERFORCE'S CONFIRMATION MEMORIAL WINDOW IN S. MARY'S, SOUTHAMPTON-(now erected.)
Miss L. PHILLIMORE (5, Arlington Street, S. James's, S. W.) acknowledges with best thanks for the above: M. A. S., 18.; per Miss Tower, 2s. 6d. ; per Rev. J. Boniface, 1s. 7d. £76 still needed. Further offerings gladly received as above.
Notices to Correspondents.
Accepted: "Easter Eve."
"WELL, Bessy, I hope you liked the concert," said Lady Margaret Dacre, a handsome gaily-dressed young matron, as her younger sister entered the drawing-room of a small house in Curzon Street. "Here
is some tea for you, which is not as good as it was half an hour ago."
"O, my dearest Maggie !" cried Lady Elizabeth Alford, springing forward with sparkling eyes, "it was too perfect! How I wish you had heard Schulz's 'Moonlight.' Beethoven himself couldn't have rendered it more gloriously! And he looked such a darling old bear, with a fiery frown and his wild locks streaming wide. But O, Maggie, we had a most enchanting Mendelssohn overture, a duet, which he played with a lovely girl not older than I am. Here is the programme. See, the 'Midsummer Night's Dream,' and she played the Harmonious Blacksmith' as well."
"Miss C. S. Grahame-a pupil of his, I suppose. Is your tea right ?"
"Quite, thank you. O, I wish you had seen my charming Miss C. S. Grahame, and heard her play. How happy I should be if I could do only half as well! Such a delicate touch, her fingers rippling over the keys like fairies ringing little blue bells; quite different from Schulz's magnificent storming. So pretty too, a pale clear face, with straight features, and auburn hair-dressed like Clara' in Charles Auchester'-dear thing!"
"I have no doubt she is an angel," calmly remarked Margaret, rising. "Well, I hope poor old Madame was not bored ?”
"Terribly, I am afraid, poor soul, for she had not any knitting, but she was very very nice about it. What, are you going?"
"Yes, I grieve to say we dine with Uncle George at the primitive hour of seven; but luckily there is a crush at the Axminsters', so I hope we can escape pretty early. Such a drive! It must be nearly two miles. I hate South Kensington. But, Bessy dear, it is such a pity you are not out. What will you do with your third solitary evening this week? I told you how it would be."
"I? why enjoy it of course-much more than you and George! I have Beethoven to practise for Schulz; the sublime and glorious Pathétique; besides all sorts of lovely memories to wreathe into a Ton-Kranz," exclaimed Bessy, as she danced off to the piano, laughing at her own enthusiasm.
"How can the child talk such nonsense!" said Margaret, with a look half-puzzled, half amused, as she left the room.
Certainly Lady Elizabeth, in spite of her seventeen years, was still hardly more than a fanciful and impulsive child. Her quick light movements were full of the careless ease and freedom of infancy, though her small rounded figure was prettily developed, and there was nothing of the conventional timidity and self-consciousness of the blushing school-room girl on the verge of introduction to society. There was something sweet and bright, careless and tender, in the ever-varying expression, in the soft grey eyes that sparkled and melted by turns, in the play of the rosy lips and mobile features still so childlike in contour, untouched by care or grief. She was the youngest child of old Lord and Lady Lynwood, and had been petted all her life. The mingled sweetness and enthusiasm of her nature had fortunately prevented the spoiling from doing her much harm, though there were few fancies which she could not indulge. During the last year or two, after a long course of idleness, she had been devoting herself to various studies with ambitious ardour. Her German governess, the able and certificated Madame de Bosch, became proud of her pupil's zeal for learning. But now science, and history, and languages, were thrust aside to give place to a new enthusiasm with which Madame de Bosch had less sympathy. "What! a German not care for music?" Bessy could hardly believe it; but such was the fact. There are even some Germans deficient in the sixth sense, and Madame was one. However
Bessy was determined to excel in the art; and as her parents were not going to be in town themselves, owing to the precariousness of old Lady Lynwood's health, they consented to part with Bessy for a time to her sister in London, in order that she might have a course of lessons from the celebrated Professor Schulz. Lady Margaret Dacre's husband, Sir George, was obliged by his Parliamentary duties to spend the greater part of the year in town, and they were both very glad to receive Bessy for as long as she liked to stay with them. Her first interview with the great Schulz had not been very long. She played a little, and he muttered something that might have been either praise or blame. He gave her part of a sonata to read through, which she did very badly. "You will prepare that for me, milady; and I will give you your first lesson the day after my concert, to which I have now the honour to invite you." Bessy had been only too happy to accept the invitation.
She passed the evening pleasantly enough; but hardly perhaps profitably. She played on in the dark all sorts of scraps from memory. Then when lights came, she put the sonata open before her, and played it carelessly over, or rather tried to do so several times, but every now and then she drifted off into some half-remembered or original melody, while the good-natured Madame de Bosch dozed peacefully in an arm-chair by the fireside with her knitting on her lap.
In great glee Bessy told Professor Schulz the next day that she had been hard at work, practising all the evening! She was totally unprepared for the severe rebuke he felt bound to administer.
"Only think!" she said to her sister afterwards, "he says he will not teach me any more, unless I practise every day for two hours at least, with one of his pupils to keep me in order—and figure to yourself my delight, O, Maggie, when he suggested-guess whom?"
"Not the angel of the concert ?"
"The same! adorable creature.
Am I not the happiest of girls ?"
"What, when you have had a good scolding, and a new governess promised you ?"
as soon as I heard the name Fancy, she is coming toHow delicious!—Maggie, if
"I did very nearly weep at first, but of Miss Grahame my spirits revived. morrow. He said he would tell her. you don't think her angelic, I'll never let you see her again, if I can help it."
"I dare say I shall survive. Once will be quite enough, probably.
But really, Bessy, I cannot see why Madame should not overlook your practising."
"My dear Maggie! she slumbers under the influence of the divine Beethoven, as under a potent spell. No, that can never be. Besides, Schulz is Liberalissimo of the reddest hue, and she is a Clerical, and very proud of that stupid little de before Bosch, and her husband was a Chevalier, though most unlike Seraphael. Well, don't be alarmed, but there was a regular Cultur-Kampf between those two this morning. I must keep them apart, or who knows what may happen another time? He gnashed his teeth with rage, through my fault, alas! as much as hers. No-that charming Miss Grahame, fair creature, shall be my guide, and lead me by the hand, into the Promised Land!” sang Bessy, beginning to waltz round the room.
Christina was highly delighted also, when she received the welcome intelligence from Professor Schulz. She was to be practising mistress to one of his pupils, in order to prepare her properly for the great man's lessons. She was to go to Curzon Street every morning for two hours; and the remuneration was to be no less than two guineas a week. Christina told the news at home with great triumph. Mrs. Earle was much gratified. "Lady Elizabeth Alford, Curzon Street— such a nice connexion for you, dear," said the old lady, complacently. "A long way for you to walk," said Kenneth.
"I don't mind that; and if it rains I can take the omnibus part of the way."
"Don't! you can afford a cab now and then."
Mrs. Earle inquired what Kenneth had said. "Ah well, dear Christie is used to going about alone, and she dresses so quietly. But perhaps one of you dear boys might walk with her sometimes."
The time however was inconvenient for both Kenneth and Charlie, and Christina went off alone, clad in the normal British disguise of gauze veil and waterproof cloak. A thorough Londoner by this time, she easily found the way. On her return she sped along as quickly as possible, eager to pour out a full description of Elizabeth's charms, and also to impart a discovery she had made, which she wondered much how Kenneth would receive. She waited for him with the greatest impatience. At last he came in, and she began at once, "Well! I have been to Curzon Street, and got there and back all right, Kenneth; she is such a pretty girl, and quite grown up. I thought she was about twelve or fourteen, and she is as old as I am. So nice,